Page 10 of Inseparable
“Hmm. Let me think.” I tap a finger off my chin as Ayden descends the steps toward the car. “Because Ayden and Devin scare them all off?” It’s not like I haven’t considered that before.
Mom chuckles again. “Well, there’s definitely that, but I was going to say your beauty and your spirit frightens them. Boys are too afraid to approach you.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh my God, Mom! You are crazy! I always suspected it, but now I know for sure.”
“What’s so funny?” Ayden asks, opening my door. “Hi, Natalie.” He smiles at my mom. For years both Ayden and Devin called Mom Mrs. Ward. It was only when I turned thirteen and she clued me in on the details of her wretched history with my abusive father that I realized how much it must’ve hurt to hear them calling her that day after day. That night, when the boys had climbed to my balcony, I asked them to call her Natalie and never to utter the words “Mrs. Ward” ever again. To this day, neither of them has forgotten.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” I murmur, fighting a blush. If she says anything to embarrass me in front of Ayden, I’ll never live it down.
“Angelina seems to think the reason no boys ask her out on dates is because you and Devin are cockblocking, but I happen to believe it’s because they are too intimidated by my daughter.”
“Mom!” I shriek, my cheeks turning ten different shades of red. “Language!” I splutter, as if our roles are reversed. She throws back her head, laughing at my obvious embarrassment. I risk a glance at Ayden, and he’s clearly fighting a laugh. “Don’t you dare, and if you ever repeat this conversation I’ll tell everyone it was you who flashed Mrs. Peterson when you were twelve.” The suspicion had naturally fallen on Devin, because that was more his MO. No one would’ve believed Ayden capable of such a thing, but you should never underestimate the power of peer pressure. I snicker to myself.
Mom collapses in a fit of laughter, and I shake my head.Issleep deprivation a real illness? Like it reduces your brain cells to mush or something?“I, just, there are no words, Mom. Seriously, you are killing me here. And how’d you even know that word. That’s wrong. So wrong. I need to go inside and scrub out my ears.”
She lightly punches my arm. “Hey, missy. I’m not that old, I’ll have you know.”
My gaze softens. “I know, Mom. How could I ever forget when you’re frequently mistaken for my sister?” True fact. It’s happened a bunch of times when we’ve been out. Mom had me when she was nineteen, and she barely looks a day over thirty. Even though I’m dark to her blonde, we have the same blue eyes, same heart-shaped face, and, although, I’m taller than her by a few inches, we have the same slender build with curves in all the right places. You could say I hit the gene pool lottery, not that I care much about that stuff. It drives Mariah crazy that I’m so blasé, and though I don’t do any sports or physical exercise—my ballet classes don’t count, according to her—and eat like a pig, I still manage to maintain the same weight. Good genes, like I said. Mom is petite and slim, and she has a healthy appetite too.
“I didn’t realize I was interrupting comedy hour,” Ayden says, teasing. “I can come back.”
I climb out of the car, sliding underneath his impressive frame. “No way. I want my lilies.”
“Who says these are for you?” There’s a glint in his eye I haven’t seen in a long while.
“Idiot.” I elbow him in the ribs. “Who else are they for?”
Ayden rounds the front of the car, thrusting the flowers out in front of Mom. I can’t stop the grin from spreading over my mouth. “Natalie. These are for you.”
Mom maneuvers around him, laughing. “Nice try, Ayden, but I’m not getting in the middle of your lover’s spat.”
“Mom!” I shriek, throwing my hands into the air. “Enough already!”
She is still laughing as she skips up the steps and into the house.
“Sit with me?” Ayden asks, holding his arm out. I loop mine in his and let him lead me up onto the porch. We sit down on the bench, and he carefully lays the flowers atop the small wicker table.
I swing my legs back and forth, waiting for him to start.
“I’m really sorry, Lina.”
I glance at him, and there’s no doubting the sincerity in his expression. I sigh. “I know you are. I hate that you two aren’t getting along. That I’m caught in the middle.”
As if on cue, the rumbling sound of Devin’s truck pricks my eardrums as it rounds the bend onto our street. Ayden tenses beside me. We watch in silence as Dev swings the truck into his driveway, kills the engine, and climbs out. He looks over at my house, immediately noticing us sitting on the porch. His face locks down, and he looks away. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strides into his house, violently slamming the door behind him.
“Awesome.” I rest my head back, closing my eyes.
“It’s not your fault.” The bench groans as Ayden swivels around to face me.
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. I just want it fixed. I want to go back to the way things were.”
Ayden brushes a few strands of loose hair back off my forehead, and my eyes fly open at the unexpected contact. “I don’t know if that’s ever going to be possible,” he admits, and there’s a tornado of sadness in his gaze.
I sit up a little straighter, twisting around. Our knees brush. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“It’s better you don’t know.”
“It’s not fair,” I huff, jutting out my lip. “What happened to our awesome-threesome pact? And not keeping secrets?”
