Page 9 of Absent Without Leave
“Sorry,” he says, flashing them a sheepish smile.Dammit, Aiden, get a hold of yourself.With a last swipe of his bar towel, he moves to the next table.
Oh, who is Aiden kidding? He may not be heartbroken, but Jake’s disappearance and lack of communication hurts like hell. Aiden doesn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t silence. He’s a grown ass man, though, and if Jake decided to bang someone else, he could have at least said so. Aiden stacks the plates into the tub with minimum clanking and then wipes off the chairs.
He shakes his head. No, Jake doesn’t owe him a thing. Not really. Aiden had just thought that after Jake’s confession—that Jake had had a thing for Aiden—there could have been something between them. Thought therehadbeen something between them. Apparently, it had all been in Aiden’s mind.
A swirl of chilly air rushes in the front doors and circles through the opening to the section he’s cleaning. A spring front arrived along with the month of May and has hung around for a solid week. He straightens and turns to welcome the arriving patrons and stops dead in his Pumas. His heart thuds once, and the air stalls in his windpipe. Jake stands there in full dress uniform with his hat tucked under his left arm.
Aiden takes a step back and places a hand on his stomach as if to hold back the tsunami that’s brewing. “Get the hell out.”
***
Jake runs a finger around the collar of his uniform. Please let Aiden be here. He needs to see him, to apologize for running out on him. They’d both been riding high on hormones and then Jake had had to hightail it back to Florida. He steps into the bar and removes his cover, scanning the place for Aiden, and spots him just to the right.
Before Jake can even call his name, Aiden turns. His mouth opens, hangs for a split second, and then snaps shut. Wide brown eyes stare at Jake. Anger and disbelief flash across Aiden’s features, and he flushes white before turning mottled pink.
“Get the hell out,” Aiden says. His voice is hard and cold.
Fuck.
The pub has gone quiet except for the televisions at various levels of volume. All eyes are on them. Including Rick’s. Including Kent Shaffer’s. Jake is definitely in enemy territory at the moment even if only four people understand why.
“Let me explain,” Jake says.
“No. Get out.”
Kent rises and takes a step toward Aiden.
The color’s deepening on Aiden’s cheeks.
“Have we got a problem?” asks Kent.
Jake lifts his hands in surrender. “No. I’m going.” A bar full of people is no place for this conversation, and Jake would never embarrass Aiden more than he already appears to have, by causing a scene in his place of business. With a nod, he about-faces and leaves.
From his rental car, Jake stares at the neonO’Leary’s Pubsign on the brick front of the building. Christ, now what? He has no fucking clue, so he drives to the motel he passed on his way to the pub, the same motel he’d stayed in during his last visit to Ten Rigs, and gets himself a room. He changes into some running clothes and hits the highway. He runs until his legs become rubbery and the bullet graze on his hip burns, then he returns to the motel, showers, and collapses into the queen-sized bed.
***
Jake parks in front of the bar at noon. It doesn’t open until two, but he’s hoping that now that the surprise has worn off of Jake’s reappearance, that maybe Aiden will let him in to talk.
Jake knocks, but there’s no answer. He’d hoped, but hadn’t really expected there to be one. All he can do now is wait for Aiden to leave the bar for some reason or another so Jake can corner him. God, that sounds awful, but it’s his only chance of getting Aiden to hear him out.
Jake’s still not sure why Aiden’s so pissed though. Granted Jake’s departure was last minute, but he’d texted Aiden at least. Once he’d called Farragut, he was in mission mode and everything else ceased to exist. It was shitty, but that’s how it had to work.
At some point, Aiden had blocked any further communications, so Jake is completely confused.
Cars start pulling into the parking lot at a quarter to two. A group of men wearing Rangers ball caps gathers at the door, and at two p.m. on the nose, the door opens and they disappear inside. Several other folks exit their cars and head inside as well.
Jake’s not going inside again. He’s not stupid. He’ll try again tomorrow.
***
On Saturday, Jake arrives at noon only to find the parking lot already half full. Well, yeah. The pub probably opens a little earlier on the weekend. More hours, more sports, more profit. Shit.
He’s quickly running out of days though, and if he can’t figure out how to get Aiden to hear him out at least, Jake’ll have to go back to Florida with this big question mark hanging over his head.
Knock, knock, knock.
Jake jumps in surprise, his gaze darting to the figure standing outside the car. Kent Shaffer. Great. Just fucking great. He rolls down the window.
