Page 6 of The Incredible Ordinary

He’s in my face, breathing harshly, this time actually looking like he really does want to punch me. But then he takes a deep breath and backs away from me.

“You’ll change your mind,” he says, and the steady confidence he says it with pisses me off to no end. Aiden’s always been the calm to my storm. Not right now, though.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“In the end, you’ll do the right thing,” he continues. I don’t know if he’s trying to convince me or himself.

“Fuck. Off,” I grit through my teeth.

“Because you’re a good man,” he says stubbornly.

Fuck it. I’m gonna deck him.

He quirks his brow in challenge.

I charge.

Aiden goes down with an “Oof,” and I land on top of him, but before I can get a decent hit in, he hooks his leg behind mine, uses his own body as leverage, and pushes me enough that he manages to roll me off him. I land on my back, and Aiden throws me a look before he gets up. Before he can step away, I throw my foot out and sweep his legs from under him. He goes back down.

The veneer of calm cracks. He’s on me a moment later, and we’re grappling on the ground. We’re both breathing harshly, neither willing to be reasonable. It takes a lot of effort to get Aiden to lose his cool, but his hands have curled into fists, and his breathing has turned into grunts, nostrils flaring, eyes lit with angry sparks.

My ears are buzzing, and I’m in that nice space where I’m not thinking anymore, just doing. Fuck consequences and fuck my thoughts.

That all comes to a halt a second later when Aiden elbows me in the face and a fountain of blood spurts out of my nose.

Aiden rolls himself off me.

I squeeze my nostrils shut between my thumb and forefinger and make a face when I push myself to a sitting position.

I look down at myself and then at Aiden. “I don’t have a spare set of clothes. Dick.”

Aiden wipes his palms on his pants. He pats at his hair and adjusts the collar of his sweater, looking annoyed and embarrassed in equal measure. “Yes, well, it’s not like I enjoy having your blood on me. I’ll have you know this is cashmere.”

Every time he gets annoyed, he starts to sound increasingly pompous.

“Is that like polyester but more expensive?” I ask, just because I know it’ll annoy Aiden. Ignorance usually does.

Aiden throws me a disgusted look. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” he mutters, still messing with his precious sweater.

“Isn’t cashmere wool? Because last time I checked there were plenty of sheep left in the world.”

“It’s goat—” Aiden starts, but then he snaps his mouth shut and continues dusting himself off.

“I’ll buy you a new sweater.”

Aiden’s shoulders remain stiff for another moment before he relaxes them and gives a brief nod.

“Come on,” he says, and we trudge back into the house.

Aiden goes to his suitcase and throws me a pair of slacks and another sweater.

We both take turns getting changed in the downstairs bathroom before we settle in at the table. Aiden slides a glass of bourbon in front of me. The expensive kind from Gerard’s wine cellar. I take the glass. Fuck it. Don’t mind if I do.

“Where’s the kid?” I ask when I look around and don’t see him anywhere.

“Francesca took him to town to get a burger,” Aiden says.

“Okay, well, let’s take off and she can have him.” I’m only half joking. “Where’s his mother?Who’shis mother?”