Page 36 of The Has-Been

My fingers grip the steering wheel tighter. God, I forgot how stubborn she can be.

“Aubrey,” I call in warning.

But she keeps walking.

Hardheaded pain in my ass. At least that much hasn’t changed.

Slamming on my brakes, I throw my Jeep into park as I quickly climb out. I have to practically sprint to catch up with her. When I’m close enough, I grab her purse, taking it away from her. Then, I reach for her arm, pulling her toward me. Aubrey fights my hold, attempting to free herself with every tug and yank against me.

But I’m faster, stronger. Before she knows it, I have her thrown over my shoulder, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer.

I’ll be damned if she walks home and something happens to her. Whether that be from the cold or an actual creep kidnapping her.

She wiggles, trying to writhe enough that I’m tempted to drop her. But I only toss her into the passenger seat and slam the door closed.

Even as I make my way around the front of the Jeep, I can still hear her shout, “I think this qualifies as a kidnapping! I’ll call the police, Liam! Don’t you think I won’t!”

I close my eyes, releasing a breath to steady my heart as I step into the car. This is not how I thought our first full conversation would go.

Aubrey couldn’t feel further away, sitting with her arms over her chest, turned away from me as she pouts like a child. We sit in silence for several minutes until I finally say, “Care to explain why you are walking on the side of the road?”

She turns, glaring daggers at me.

If looks could kill, then Aubrey Vaughn would have just struck me dead.

I shrug, holding my hands up. “All right, whatever, don’t explain.”

She sighs after several long minutes, murmuring, “Sorry.”

“Wait, I’m sorry...I didn’t hear you.” I mock, craning my neck at her. I heard her perfectly fine, but it’s not often a Vaughn apologizes, so I figure I’d better savor the moment.

“I said I was sorry. For kicking you in your—” She eyes my still aching groin.

“And?” I say, turning on my blinker and waiting to turn left.

“And—thanks. For the ride.” She admits slowly, her eyes looking anywhere but at me.

“Hey Siri,” I call, the voice booming over my speakers within a second, “mark this day in my calendar. The day that Aubrey Vaughn said ‘sorry and thank you’ within seconds of each other. A national fucking holiday.”

“Dick.” She mutters under her breath, but I see her crack a smile. My heart aches a little. Because for a second, it feels familiar, like nothing has changed.

“I called Reese, but she must be busy,” she explains, looking at her phone. “I would have tried Rory or June, but my phone died.”

“No worries, I’ll take you home,” I note. I reach for the heated seat button at the exact second she does. Our fingers touch, and I draw my hand back instantly. I try to ignore the electric shocks thrumming across my skin from where we make contact.

You’d think a woman had never touched me before by how my body reacts to hers. But it’s always been that way with us.

Electric.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you remembered where the button was,” I point out, keeping my focus on the road, refusing to look in her direction. Thank God it’s dark, or she would see my cheeks burning scarlet.

A few extremely awkward minutes pass. I drive slowly, as the road conditions are less than ideal with the snow beginning to pick up. How we went from joking like old times to cold silence is stark, chilling.

Confusing.

When I turn down the road leading to her condo, a cop car blocks the entrance. He motions for me to roll down my window.

“Evening,” the officer says. “Car slid into a pole…we are waiting on the electric company to respond. You’ll have to go the back way. Do you know how to get there?”