Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa
Chapter Fourteen
Vance
The drivefrom the airport to the hospital isn’t as quiet as the flight. Darren doesn’t seem to be familiar with the word silence. Everything and anything is a topic of conversation. Perhaps I’m the problem. I prefer the peace and stillness of a quiet moment.
“Are you always like this?” he asks.
I don’t even glance at him when I reciprocate with a question of my own. “What is this?”
“I’ve been doing all the talking?”
“Seriously? I haven’t noticed.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t picture you as the sarcastic kind.”
“After living with my brothers for almost a year, I’ve learned a thing or two.”
“I really appreciate you,” he continues. “I should move at least one of my cars to Baker’s Creek.”
“Where are they?
“In San Francisco. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but the parking garage in the house I live in doesn’t fit a car.”
“We could take out the shelves,” I suggest. “I doubt you’re going to need that.”
“Do you think I can find a garage where I can put all of them?”
Curious, I ask, “How many do you have?”
“Five.”
“You moved here, and you mentioned you’re leasing your apartment in San Francisco, right? Where are they now?”
“Dad’s garage. He’s a car collector and lets me park my babies there. I don’t use them as often as I’d like.”
“You could park them in our garage.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You’ve seen it. It’s big, and we have space for at least fifteen more cars.”
“Thank you. I’ll think about it. How much will it cost me to build a house by the lake?”
I glance at him briefly and shake my head. Thankfully, we arrive at the hospital, and I say, “Here we are. I’m going to be in town. Text me when you know what the status is.” I hand him my business card.
He smirks as he takes the card from me, caressing my thumb intentionally. To say that I don’t feel anything would be a lie. The simple touch sends a current of electricity through my entire body, almost igniting it.
“Finally, you’re giving me your number.” He looks at the card and then shoves it into his wallet. “Should I wait a couple of days, so I don’t sound desperate?”
“Ugh.” Why does he always have to flirt? “We’re exchanging numbers so you can reach me.” I try not to sound frustrated, but I fail miserably.
He chuckles as he says, “Sure, it’s just so I can reach you. Thank you for the ride.”
The kiss he blows me after he closes the door makes me fume. This isn’t a game. Is he doing it just to fuck with my head?
Three hoursafter I dropped Dare at the hospital, he texts me.
Darren Russell: I’m on standby. One of the guys involved in the accident needs surgery.
Vance: Are you staying then?
Darren Russell: Probably. I won’t know until his family decides if they want the operation or not.
Vance: How long will that take?
Darren Russell: I’m not sure. They’re waiting for his mom. If you ask me, the wife should be the one making the decision. The success of the surgery lies in how fast I operate. However, it’s not my decision to make.
Vance: Do you want to go for a bite?
He sends me a smiling face with horns emoji.
I gape at his text.
Darren Russell: What kind of bite?
I almost reply with a facepalm emoji, but I won’t engage with him.
Vance: Do you want something to eat for lunch?
Darren Russell: Sure.
Vance: I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Let’s meet by the entrance. Don’t make me wait.
Darren Russell: Or what?
He’s infuriating. I don’t respond to his last text. Instead, I leave the Merkel Hotel and drive to meet him. I’m still familiarizing myself with the area. Instead of asking where he’d want to eat, I drive us back to Merkel. There are two five-star restaurants there. Henry can pay for my meal. I’m impressed that Darren doesn’t speak until after the waitress leaves with our order.
“What did you do while you were waiting?”
I reach for the glass of water in front of me, take a sip, and answer, “Work.”
“You can work from Portland?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see you bringing a computer.”
“There’s a room in this hotel where I can work,” I mumble.
“Wow, you can—”
“Escargot and steak bruschetta,” the waitress sets them on the table, interrupting us.
“We didn’t order any of these,” I say.
“It’s complimentary,” she says, leaving right away.
My phone buzzes. When I check who it is, I growl. Henry.
Henry: Enjoy your date.
He’s going to pay for this.
“This is nice,” Darren says.
“Sure,” I respond because what else can I say? My brother is teasing the fuck out of me? I don’t think that’s a good answer. The waitress is back with a bottle of wine. She opens it, hands me the cork, and pours the wine into the glasses.
When she leaves, Darren asks, “Are you always like this?”
I almost scowl at him but control myself. “Like what?”
“Monosyllabic answers, scowls…I’m starting to wonder if that’s just the way you are or if you don’t like me.”
I like him.
I like him too much, but of course, I don’t say that. Instead, I drink the wine so fast, anyone would think it’s water. I pour myself another glass. Maybe if I’m drunk, this won’t be as painful. I’m not sure where the pain comes from or what it is that I’m avoiding.
“See, you’re mute.”
“I like silence.” There, I said it. Maybe that’ll keep him quiet.
He laughs. How dare he mock me?
“Are you done?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, still laughing. “I’m just. This is hilarious.”
“Really, how’s that?”
“Well, we’re having a meal, but anyone who heard you would think you’re at the mall on Christmas Eve trying to fight a nasty crowd.”
I glare at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Probably because you buy your gifts online to avoid people.” He grins, pouring me more wine.
I should stop drinking. Instead, I eat some of the appetizers we have on the table. I should shove some food into his mouth to keep him quiet, so I can breathe.
The tightness in my shoulders loosens up when he takes a piece of bread and shoves it in his mouth. The tension comes back as he asks, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“About?”
“You buy all your gifts online.” He pauses, pops an olive in his mouth, and after he chews, he says, “I bet ahead of time to ensure that they get there on time.”
“It’s easier. Plus, I don’t feel comfortable around crowds.”
“PTSD?”
I almost squirm in my seat. His questions are invasive. Why does he want to know so much about me? I don’t like to be the center of attention. Sometimes, it feels like he set me in the middle of a stage with a big spotlight pointing at me.
I hate it.
“Can we talk about something else?” I almost beg him.
“Your answers are too short. I’m trying to figure out if you don’t like me or if this is just your personality.”
I stare at him as I drink more wine.
“Yes?”
“Well, you talk a lot, and you don’t see me complaining.”
“I have to fill the silence. You’re too quiet. The last time we came to Portland, I thought it was because your brother and his son were with us. Now. Well, I think it’s all you. I’ve had longer conversations with your nephew.”
I can’t help but laugh at his nonsense. “Arden barely speaks.”
He smirks. “Exactly.”
He drinks some wine. “So, you were in the Army?”
I don’t answer.
“I studied my undergrad at NYU. Always trying to get away from the parents, you know? After that, I ended up at Johns Hopkins. That’s where I first met Hayes.”
I stare at him because I didn’t prompt him to tell me any of that. Then he says, “This is the part where you respond with your life, or not. I can fill the silence with my sisters’ lives. You wouldn’t understand how hard it is to live with three sisters. Three. With just brothers in your family, I guess you don’t have to think about finding tampons in the bathroom or having to buy feminine products because that’s the only way your parents will let you drive.”
“I studied a year at West Point,” I answer because I don’t want to listen about his sisters’ lives and…I am thankful that I don’t have any sisters.
“Only a year?” he asks.
“I wanted to be a Delta Force, and for that, I had…If you go to a military college, you come out with a rank. That’s not what I wanted.”
I tell him how it’s the first time I defied my grandfather. How I retired before I turned twenty-eight. He pays attention to everything I say while we eat and continue drinking. I don’t think I’ve ever told a civilian what I’ve done for the past fifteen years of my life.
“I overheard that your unit was the one that caused your brother’s accident and—”
“They shouldn’t have shared that information with you.”
“I signed an NDA if that makes you feel any better. I assumed it was okay to bring it up to you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Sign an NDA?”
“I assumed it was because I treated Beacon. The Beacon.”
The pit of my stomach churns. I don’t know why it bothers me that he says his name with such admiration. I fucking hate it. This could be a good moment to open my phone and look for the freaking wheel of emotions. I don’t hate my brother or him, but why is it upsetting me that… “You say it with such reverence.”
“I controlled myself when we were in the waiting room giving the news to the family,” he continues talking. “Did you see all those musicians?”
“I noticed them.”
“I’m sure you’re used to all that. What, with your brother being famous.”
“You don’t know much about my family, do you?”
He shakes his head. “I knew about Carter. Hayes didn’t talk much about his family. Learning that he had more than one brother was strange.”
I don’t usually talk about my family. Still, I give him the summary of the Aldridge brothers and our horny father.
“Wow, that’s…unexpected. I”—He pauses and stares at me as if assimilating the information—“Why are you all living in Baker’s Creek?”
I serve him another slice of our life. His jaw is open when I finish telling him about the stipulations.
“So, what’s going to happen when the time is up? Are you all leaving and…?”
“No. Hayes is staying. Henry’s not sure. His wife’s family lives in New York. Pierce and Leyla are staying.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t know, and that’s disturbing. I thought that after this was over, I’d be able to convince my unit to take me back, but…” They’re all dead, I don’t say out loud.
“That’s why you’re always in your head, thinking about the future and trying to find solutions.”
I stare at him. He’s about to speak when his phone buzzes. After looking at it, he says, “We’re doing the surgery.”
“When?”
“In about an hour. I have to get ready.”
“I have to go home,” I say, staring at the two bottles of wine. Did we drink that much?
He looks at me. “Will you be okay? That’s a lot of wine.”
Fuck.
“I have to go home. I can’t stay.”
“Yes, but you’re in no position to fly a helicopter. Is there anyone that can do it for you?”
I shake my head. “When do I have to pick you up?”
“I’ll probably stay here for a couple of days.”
“Let me make some calls.”
I leave him at the table while I go to the security room, where no one can interrupt me. My first call is to Manelik Cantú, one of Beacon’s bandmates and best friends. He works for The Organization too. If anyone can help me get home before my curfew, it’s him. “Yeah?”
“Listen, I have an emergency. I drank too much, and I’m in Portland.”
“Fuck.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
He lets out a loud breath. “I hate you Aldridges. Lucky for you, I know how to fix shit like this.”
“You do?”
“Of course, I’ll get you a ride home. Just remember, you owe me.”
“At this point, I think we all owe you and your bandmates a lot.”
“Probably, and we’ll cash out in favors,” he jokes.
My next call is to my sister-in-law, Sophia. “Yes?”
“Hey, can you reserve one of the suites in the downtown Portland hotel?”
“For you?” Her voice has a hint of excitement mixed with worry.
“No. It’s for Darren. As you know, I brought him to Portland, but he has to stay for a couple of days.”
“That’s an easy one,” she says. “Anything else?”
“Make sure you charge everything to my credit card. Also, keep this between us. If anyone learns about this, they are going to think something stupid.”
“God forbid we think you’re nice.”
I’m not worried about that. I’m more worried about my brothers thinking something is happening between Darren and me.
“Thank you,” I say before we get into a bizarre discussion. When I’m back at the table, I apologize. “Sorry, I was setting up a few things. I’d offer to drive you back to the hospital, but maybe we can share a ride?”
He gives me a concerned look. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m getting a ride home. When you’re done with the surgery, you can come back to the hotel. I made a reservation for you.”
He gives me a small smile, and suddenly, I feel anxious. I’m not ready to leave this place. To leave him. It’s the wine talking because I don’t get attached to strangers. I barely connect with my family.
“Thank you,” he says.
We get a ride to the hospital. When we arrive, I ask, “Is this why you’re nursing the glass of wine?”
He nods. “Yeah, I didn’t think that you had to fly back, or I wouldn’t have topped your glass. It’s just...”
I want him to finish his sentence, but instead, I say, “Call when you need me to pick you up.”
Before he leaves the car, he gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for dinner and for taking care of my stay. Maybe I can repay you once I’m back in Baker’s Creek.”
I see him walk away, and if it wasn’t because I have to go back home, I’d stay. The question is, why do I want to do it?
