“Where are we going?”
The question hung in the passenger cabin of the Jeep like the same thick haze that was filling her head. Aidan stared out the windshield without actually seeing anything beyond it. She didn't have an answer. She realized that she didn't even really remember getting into the passenger seat, or anything else that had happened since getting out of bed.
It was that time of day so fondly referred to as “the ass crack of dawn.” A layer of condensation covered the windshield and the damp morning smell from outside still lingered. The entire night at the hotel was a patchy haze, though she was fairly certain that she hadn't slept at all. Not after what had happened last night.
“...Why did you stop me?”
Liam sighed heavily in that way that told her he had known the question would come sooner rather than later. She caught the motion of him turning his head from the corner of her eye and felt his gaze on her, but she didn't look at him.
“At some point ye would have regretted it. Maybe not today, maybe not a week or a month from now, but eventually ye would have.”
She almost laughed, almost rolled her eyes and shook her head and made the denial. Maybe he was right though.
“Believe me, I wanted to do it just as badly as you did. No one gets away with wronging me girl.”
My girl.
“You know you can still walk away from this, right? The last few weeks have been... good, I guess, but—”
“They've been 'good,' ye guess?”
“They've been amazing and unexpected, and I've been happier than I have been in a long time. But—”
“But nothing. We've had this conversation before.”
The entire non-argument played out in her head in a blink; the way she would start to make a retort and all he would have to do to silence her was take a breath like he was going to speak. The words wouldn't have to leave his lips because her own would snap shut. Just long enough would pass that she'd try to start anew, and he'd either just raise his eyebrows or say her name and it would cut her off again.
“Where are we going?”
“...Take the 40 to the 81.”
“Are ye sure this time? We're not going to turn around half way there and decide to go to Florida?”
She was sure, but since he had already headed off the argument and now he was second guessing her, she had to be stubborn. So she shrugged.
“No promises.”
Another long silence passed before he finally turned the key in the ignition and put the Wrangler Unlimited Rubicon into gear.
“Keep that up and we'll pull over at the nearest rest stop until your attitude improves.”
A little heat rose in her cheeks and a tiny smile crept across her lips in spite of herself. Her chin dipped to try to hide the blush, but that was a lost cause. Reaching over, he squeezed her knee to take any least bit of sting out of the 'threat' but she had no doubts he would make good on it.
“There you go babe.”
Babe.
It sounded so foreign. They had first met in May of 2014, and the only real pet name between them had been when he called her “álainn,” Gaelic for “pretty girl.” Mancrush? Womancrush? Those were hashtags. And then “baby” had escaped her mouth that night in Oklahoma City a few weeks ago and somehow a line had been crossed.
He hadn't called her álainn since, but all those other normal words that couples used—not the stupid ones like “boo” or “bae” though—came as easily to him as breathing. Not so much for her, but either he didn't notice or he just pretended not to for her sake. She had a suspicion that he pretended not to notice a lot of things for her sake.
“Hungry?”
“Hmm?”
Aidan finally looked over at him, fully engaging herself in the conversation instead of being half caught in the Silent Hill fog of her own head.
“Are you hungry? Do ye want to stop for breakfast before we get on the interstate?”
She didn't bother to fake considering the question before she shook her head. He would have seen through it anyway.
“No, I'm fine.”
It was no surprise when he reached behind the passenger seat to the little cooler they kept there in spite of her assurance. He deposited the bottled protein shake in her lap, and she obediently shook it up and twisted off the cap for a drink. Because she didn't want to have this argument again. It tasted like less than nothing but still made her want to gag.
“What's this thing with you and food now?”
“I don't have a 'thing' with food. I just want to eat when I want to eat. You know how much I love being forced to do things.”
“You used to have timers and meal plans and an entire second bag dedicated to Blender Bottles and workout supplements. Everything was a regimen with you.”
“Yeah, well, shit changes sometimes. A lot of that was Ethan's idea, it just took some time to wear off.”
“What else changed?”
Aidan pressed a hand to her forehead and rubbed harder with her thumb and index finger than she intended to. What hadn't changed was a better question. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, or even when it was. It was another thing she didn't have an answer for.
“Just be patient with me.”
She didn't have to look to know the gears in his head were turning. It was strange, how he had become both familiar and foreign. Right now she knew that he was thinking, and almost what he was thinking, but there were times when he was a great white enigma. He had changed too, and not just his look.
“I do know when you're being manipulative, ye know that, right?”
The question caught her off guard and the hot blush that crawled up her face betrayed her. Yes, she had said that, knowing it would work, so she could avoid answering him.
“...Well I do now.”
“I will be patient with you, but you're not going to put me off forever. You're not going to put yourself off forever, either.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
He turned and gave her a look that made her want to shrink into the seat, but she didn't. Backing down from this kind of sparring wasn't really her thing, and they both knew it. But the longer the silence hung, the more she knew that they both also already knew what he meant. She sighed again.
“Right.”
He reached over and curled her hand up in his. For several long moments she didn't realize that there was something else resting against her palm. When it finally dawned on her she looked up from their hands to his face and back down again, unfurling her fingers. She almost choked on the knot that suddenly formed in her throat. The familiar etched golden shield-shaped necklace felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds.
“Please... don't give this to me again. It deserves someone better than me.”
“Put it on.”
“Liam—”
“Put it on.”
She hadn't had enough caffeine yet, or maybe she'd had too much. Her fingers were unsteady and it took several tries for her to get the clasp open. A few strands of hair caught in the chain and pulled out with a twinge as she tried to finagle the microscopic tab into the little hook. When the necklace was in place it didn't feel any less heavy. She ran her thumb over the diamond in the center once before her hand dropped into her lap. The slight burning in her eyes was the closest she'd come to crying since... she wasn't even going to think about that.
“You're human, Aidan, no matter what ye see in the mirror.”
Her brown eyes flicked up toward the visor, but it was flipped up and she couldn't see the mirror there, thankfully. She didn't want to.
“Y'know I'm not entirely sure I like this forceful and analytical new you.”
Despite the frustrated look on her face, he smirked to break the ice a little.
“Liar.”
The comment and the thoughts that came along with it made it impossible not to give a tiny smirk back.
“Alright, maybe it's just the analytical part I don't like.”
“Your head is a mess. You're thinking a thousand things every second and ye can't make sense of any of it. Am I right?”
“Sounds about right, yeah.”
“Think of it as me taking care of all of the little thoughts, so you can focus on the bigger ones. Ye shut down when you're overwhelmed, and right now you're overwhelmed. So I'll make sure you eat and sleep and get in and out of bed, and you just focus on your head.”
The spike of anger that rose in her chest only served to tell her that he was right.
“I don't need a babysitter. I'm not a child, Liam, I can take care of myself.”
“I'm not trying to be your babysitter, Aidan. More like your relief, the second shift.”
It was a poor metaphor, yet it made as much sense as it needed to. Some part of her wanted to tell him all about England eight years ago, and about the first two weeks of January. But that demon was one she wasn't sure that even he could handle. The worst part... she wasn't sure if she was afraid it would drive him away or if she was hanging on to it to use as a weapon to try to force him away with later.
She bit the inside of her lip as she glanced over at him. Did he know? Of course he did. He'd practically said as much on more than one occasion. He knew and he refused to let her force him away, or so he said. She wondered if it was really that easy.
- - - - -
By the time they reached their destination she was exhausted, but the day still wasn't over. For just a short while though, she could relax in the hotel room. The bed seemed comfortable enough where she sat on the edge of it. What was to come would be different, exciting and new, but the drive...
He had worn her down over the thirteen hour journey, annoying the argument out of her because he knew her well. Too well. She hated how he knew all the right buttons to push, but she only knew one or two of his. She hated that because she hated...
Not being in control.
The thought was nauseating, making her cover her face before she even realized she was leaning forward. Her elbows clumsily came to rest on her knees for support. The less-than-attractive pattern on the carpeting disappeared as she squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to shut everything out. But what she wanted to shut out was in her head.
“Fuck.”
The mattress dipped beside her before Liam's hand came to on her back, rubbing carefully.
“What's wrong?”
“...I'm just like her. I tried so hard to go in the opposite direction as far and as fast as I could, but I'm just like Maureen.”
The little laugh he gave was one of relief that nothing worse was wrong, she knew that. He wasn't laughing at her. It still angered her.
“You're nothing like your mother.”
And that infuriated her.
“Do not call her that!”
“Maureen is a cold, manipulative, controlling, self-serving bitch.”
“And who does that sound like?”
His chuckle grated on her, but she let him pull her into his lap. Her body twisted until her arms could hang loosely around his neck while her head rested on his shoulder. A deep breath of Notting Hill by British Laundry filled her head and calmed her, ever so slightly.
“Aidan, you're not cold. You're hardened and more than a little jaded. You like to be in control of your situation, that doesn't make ye controlling. There's a difference between being self-serving and starting to look out for yourself when ye spent too long putting everyone else ahead of you. Yes, you're a little manipulative, but the intention isn't the same. And you're a bitch by choice, not design.”
The kneading of his fingers between her shoulder blades was firm almost to the point of being painful. It was just how she liked her massages. It was better because it was him.
“You're also not an imperious, narrow-minded, high-strung bigot like she is. Ye think ye destroy everything around you, but you don't. You surround yourself with destructive things. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
A short night of sleep coupled with the long drive and exhausting arguments weighed on her more and more as she leaned against him. The soothing rub of his hand up and down her back, the pleasant smell of his cologne, and dimmed lights in the room... She was drifting. He stood up carefully and laid her down on the bed, folding the blanket over her rather than trying to tuck her in.
“Get a few hours of sleep before Xtra. It might help put things in perspective. You thought about this for a long time. It's what you wanted, and last night just proved it. Don't second guess yourself.”
Sleep rushed in so quickly that she almost didn't catch the end of his words, or manage to respond.
“...You're right.”