Page 98 of No Promises, No Lies

When the car comes to a stop, I step out and stare out across the dark void behind the cabin, my breath visible in the freezing air. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and the frozen water comes into focus, barely lit by the tiny crescent moon in the sky tonight.

“The lake,” Aidan explains, following my gaze.

“Right.” My mood darkens at the sight of the ice.

“I picked the cabin because I thought if we stayed here, you could at least still train…”

I don’t look at him—I can’t.I keep my eyes out on the lake. “I’m tired,” I say finally, as I shift uncomfortably on my bare feet, having abandoned Reagan’s heels in the car.

Aidan’s quiet for a half a beat, but then I hear the crunch of gravel under his boots. “This way.”

I follow. He pauses for a moment and I half worry he’s about to scoop me up, but I rush past him, doing my best not to wince at the sharp gravel stones stabbing my feet.

I let out a sigh of relief when I reach the soft wood of the porch, waiting for Aidan to unlock the cabin door. The lock clicks and the door swings open. I’ve barely taken a step toward it before I feel his arms around me. And then my feet are off the ground as he swings me up, carrying me across the threshold.

Irritation finally snaps the last thread of my patience, and I kick my feet, punching his chest with my fists. “Put. Me. Down,” I demand.

My struggling barely fazes him, but once safely inside, Aidan kicks the door shut with his boot and sets me gently back on my feet.

“What the hell?” I hiss at him.

He just shrugs, heading toward what looks to be the kitchen. “It’s tradition, isn’t it? Seemed like bad luck not to?—”

I blink at him.

“You know?”

“No, I don’t know,” I snap. Though he might have a point—I don’t need any more bad luck than I already have.

The O’Rourke cabin is surprisingly warm and welcoming. Similar to the loft the siblings share back in the city, it’s tastefully decorated, but not cold like you would expect from a family in their line of business. Designed for comfort. Someone’s come ahead of us and already lit the hearth. The crackling fire is the only sound in the entire place while I glare at Aidan moving around the kitchen.

The initial nerves I felt about being alone with Aidan have only intensified now that we’rehere. Uncertain of hisexpectations. It’s our wedding night, but does it still count if it’s a fake wedding? I know we’ve already slept together once, but that wasbefore.

Before the vows and my newfound status as hiswife.

I’m not unaware of howalonewe are. My initial nervousness is only intensified now that we’ve reached our destination.

The anticipation of what might be expected tonight is causing my stomach to knot up with pressure. I’m on edge, wound so tight I’m seconds from spiraling—and spiraling hard.

“Hungry?” I tear my gaze away from the fire I’d lost myself in to find Aidan pulling open the refrigerator. A quick view of the open fridge shows someone has also been by to stock up the food.

“No,” I lie. Or maybe I’m telling the truth. I haven’t eaten in forever, but I don’t think I could eat even if I wanted to right now. “Where can I—” I trail off when I accidentally meet the green of Aidan’s eyes watching from across the room. “—sleep?”I finish, desperately keeping myself from chewing my lip, my anxiety eating me alive.

“Upstairs,” Aidan replies calmly, eyeing me as if I’m a frightened deer who is seconds from bolting. “First door on the left.”He lifts his hand toward a stairway tucked into the corner of the house.

I’m halfway to the stairs before I remind myself to slow my pace. I linger awkwardly on the landing, turning slowly back… “And you’ll?—”

“First door on the right.”

I release a breath, not having realized I’d been holding it.

“If you need anything,” he nods slowly, unspoken words written in his eyes.

“Ok.” I turn back to the stairs. “Thanks,” I add as an afterthought.

I climb slowly, unsure about what, or who, might be upstairs and also listening to the sound of Aidan in the kitchen to ensure he isn’t following me.

Ducking into the room, I close and lock the door before pacing the small space for several minutes, debating how much noise dragging the heavy-looking dresser in front of the door might make. Doubtful I even have the energy required to move it, I sigh, leaving the dresser alone before stripping down to my underwear and climbing into the soft bed. Leaving the shimmery silver dress in a pile on the floor.If Aidan wants in—he’s getting in, dresser or not. The man throws pro hockey players into the boards for a living.

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