Preface

Aidan tried to still the rapid beating of his heart as he raced up the front walkway. Stumbling on the porch steps, he lurched towards the front door. He banged both of his fists against the wood as hard as he could. “Please! Please open up! I have to talk to you!” he shouted. His hand slid down the jamb to the doorbell. His finger punched it relentlessly like a SOS call in Morse Code.

Finally, his desperate ministrations were rewarded by the front door swinging open. At the sight of her tear stained face, his soul twisted in agony. “Please…please just let me talk to you!”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing left to say, Aidan. We’ve been down this road too many times. I’ve come to the conclusion that your actions will always speak louder than your words.”

“No, last night is not what I want. It’s just I was scared with the baby and everything that’s happened between us in the last few weeks.”

When she tried sweeping past him out the door, he pushed himself in front of her like a shield. “Aidan, move. I have to get to work. Nothing you have to say is going to change the way I feel right now.”

“Can’t you call in? I love you, and I want to make this right.” He raked a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair. He was still in the wrinkled clothes he had worn the day before. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten—he had spent the night consumed with how to get her back. “No matter what you think, I do love you…and I do want the baby.”

She raised her head to glare at him. Aidan took a step back at the unadulterated rage that burned in her eyes. “Don’t you dare say that! I know how you really feel about me being pregnant—the burden it is on your life. If anything, it’s the reason you were f**king that girl! Because when you’re scared, you always manage to screw up!”

Shoving him out of the way, she stomped down the porch steps. He followed close on her heels. “Okay, you’re right. It was a burden—maybe it still is. But I realize now I was just being stupid. I love you, and I do want to marry you and raise our child.”

She skidded to a stop. Her shoulders sagged before she slowly turned around. “Right now you think that’s what you want. But I know you too well. Before we get married or before the baby is born, you’ll get scared and cheat again.” She shook her head sadly. “I was stupid to think me being pregnant would change you. That somehow it would make you commit. But you can’t even be faithful for your baby.”

Aidan reached out for her, but she spun away and ran down the sidewalk. When he finally caught up to her, she had locked herself in the car.

He banged his fist against the window. “Please. Please don’t do this!”

She threw the car in reverse and squealed out of the driveway. The engine roared as she sped down the street. Aidan closed his eyes in defeat. He staggered back, trying desperately to stop himself from hyperventilating.

Then the sound of screeching tires and busting glass caused Aidan’s heart to shudder to a stop. He sprinted to the edge of the driveway. His entire world slowed to a crawl at the sight of the mangled heap of twisted metal in the distance.

“AMY!” he screamed.

Chapter One

Aidan jolted out of his nightmare to find himself facedown on the kitchen table. Sweat trickled down his face. He raised a trembling hand to swipe it away. That was when he realized it was tears, not sweat, soaking his cheeks. He hadn’t had a nightmare about Amy’s accident in years. It only took a second for him to remember what had brought it on.

Emma.

Everything he thought he had felt for Amy was magnified a million times with Emma. He had only thought he knew what love was. Without even trying, she had managed to illicit feelings in him he never could have imagined. And now she was gone.

A defeated cry of agony slipped from his lips.

“I see we’re back to the nightmares, huh?”

Aidan jumped before jerking his gaze over his shoulder. “Hello to you too, Pop. How’d you get in?”

Patrick gave him a tight smile. “I have a key, son.”

When he whirled around in his chair, Aidan’s head spun, and he had to grip the table to steady himself. “Yeah, well, whatever happened to knocking?”

“I did, but you never came to the door. Now I can see why.”

Aidan stared up at the blurry double images of his father’s frowning face. One look of absolute and total disgust would have been enough, but damned if in his drunken state, there had to be two.

Patrick leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Son, I do believe you’re shit-faced!”

After snorting contemptuously, Aidan’s face smacked hard onto the table. His chest rose and fell in laughter at the fact his father had actually said the word shit-faced. Of course his level of inebriation also made it funnier.

When he finally composed himself, he exclaimed, “Actually, Pop, I was shit-faced five beers and three shots of Patron ago. I think it’s safe to say I’m f**king plastered.”

“So is this where we are again?” Patrick huffed.

Raising his head, Aidan furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

Patrick’s face clouded over in anger. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re starting the same damn patterns as you did nine years ago, right down to the drinking like a lush.”

“I called you because I wanted your help, not a lecture. So if you came over here to yell at me then you can just f**k off!”

The next thing Aidan knew Patrick had yanked him up by his hair and was glaring down at him. “Don’t you ever speak that way to me again! I’m still your father, and you will show me respect. You got that?”

“Just leave me alone!” Aidan blared, trying to pull himself away.

Patrick tightened his grip on Aidan’s hair, causing him to wince in pain. “All right. That’s it. I’m going to treat you just like I would a prick of a recruit in The Corp who had screwed up!”

Before Aidan could protest, Patrick dragged him out of the kitchen chair. It clattered noisily to the floor. “Didn’t know you still had it in you, old man. You’re pretty agile for a seventy-two year old,” Aidan mused.

“You better shut up if you know what’s good for you!” Patrick snarled before shoving Aidan towards the hallway. He might’ve passed out again if Patrick hadn’t kept a firm hold on the scruff of his neck along with his belt buckle.

When they got into the master bedroom, Patrick pushed him in the bathroom. Aidan whirled around to catch Patrick locking the door. Dread washed over him. Nervously he staggered back as Patrick stalked over to him. “Shit, Pop, you aren’t gonna beat my *** again like the time in high school when you discovered that pot stash under my bed, are you?”

Ignoring him, Patrick went to the shower. After flipping on the water, he grabbed Aidan’s arm and jerked him into the stall. Ice cold water rained down on him. Even through his clothes, each droplet felt like a jagged knife piercing his skin. He tried to get out, but Patrick slammed the shower door shut. “You’re going to stay in there until you can sober up and discuss what happened like a man!”

Aidan thrashed against the door, but Patrick held firm. “I’m too old for this bullshit, son. I may not be around in nine years when you try to pull another stunt like this again. At least let me die in peace knowing that you’ve got a wife and child to love!”

Patrick’s words froze Aidan more than the cold water pelting him. Just the thought of how he had hurt Emma sent pangs of regret reverberating through him. Instead of protesting any further, he turned and stood under the shower nozzle, letting the icy water sting him like the lashes of the whip. Hanging his head, he wished it was a whip. He deserved to be beaten for everything he had said and done in the last few weeks to Emma and in turn his son. Physical punishment would be a welcome relief to release the emotional torment within him.

“You manning up now?” Patrick asked.

“Yes sir,” Aidan murmured under the stream of water.

“Good. I’ll go put on a pot of coffee. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready to talk.”

Biting his lip, Aidan couldn’t stop the tears filling his eyes from spilling over his cheeks. He wanted more than anything for his father to somehow find a way to help him get Emma back. “Thanks, Pop,” he said, his voice wavering with emotion.

“You’re welcome.”

Aidan forced himself to stay under the water until his cloudy senses became clearer. When he could walk without staggering, he got out of the shower. His teeth chattered as he tore off his soaked clothes. After toweling off at record speed, he padded into the bedroom and threw on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

When he got to the kitchen, Patrick sat at the table. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Sorry I had to go all Marines on you.”

Aidan shook his head. “I deserved it. Frankly, you should’ve kicked my ***.”

“Becoming a masochist, are we?”

Shrugging, Aidan poured himself a cup of coffee. “I deserve nothing less. I hurt the ones I care about the most.”

Patrick sighed. “I don’t know about that. There’s a lot of goodness in you, Aidan. I wish you could see that.”

“Must not be much goodness in me if I keep f**king up.”

“Speaking of that…” Patrick eased back in his chair, resting his arm along the top rung. “Before I offer to help, I have to know one thing.”

Aidan arched his brows and took a tentative sip of coffee. The scorching liquid seared his tongue. “What is it?” he croaked.

“Do you honestly want Emma back because you love her, or is it because you feel guilty?”

“This isn’t like what happened with Amy,” Aidan protested.