Page 21 of On The Run

And then, I finally told him how Max asked me on a second date and I had a complete breakdown.

“Oh, A. I’m so sorry. I wanted so much more than this for you.”

Wait, was Pops really blaming himself? I glared at him. “This is not your fault.”

He fixed me with a doubtful look. “When I ran with you, I had these dreams of us having this perfect life. We wouldn’t be rich, but I’d rent a small house off the coast, find a job, and get my degree in nursing. You’d go to school, make friends, join the soccer team.” I scrunched my nose. Soccer? Really? Pops chuckled and swatted playfully at my knee at my reaction. “Or whatever you’d want to play or do. It didn’t have to be soccer.”

“It definitely would not have been.” Traditional sports and I didn’t mix.

“Well, when you were four, I wasn’t sure what you would like. I just wanted to give you a shot at having a normal childhood, and despite my best intentions, I failed. Aiden, sweetheart, you should be able to date without panicking and running five miles in the rain.”

He wasn’t wrong. But the cause of this had always and would always be solely Giovani Santino. No one else.

“There’s only one man to blame for all of that, and it’s not you, Pops. I just- I thought maybe I could try to do something normal for once in my life. I was wrong.” I shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “At least now I know so I won’t make that mistake again.

Pops opened his mouth to say something, probably to tell me not to give up, when I heard my phone ring in the other room. Shit, Max.

“That’s probably Max. He’s been calling and texting. I-I should tell him I’m ok.”

Pops’s expression softened. “That’s a good idea. I’m sure he’s concerned.”

I put my half-drank cocoa on the coffee table and scurried to my room to grab my phone. Pops had thrown it on my comforter, the same color green as my rug, when he helped me get changed. I grabbed it, dreading what I was about to see.

I ignored all the missed calls and went to the messages. There was no way I could speak to Max right now.

The last message was sent two minutes ago.

Max: Please, Aiden. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Just tell me you’re somewhere safe. I’m at the café and your car is still here.

Fuck, it never occurred to me he might go back to the café. I quickly texted him back, feeling like absolute shit.

Aiden: I’m so sorry. I’m safe. I promise. I just—I can’t talk about it now. It was nothing you did. You were amazing. It’s me. I’m so, so sorry I worried you.

The three bubbles popped up instantaneously. He must’ve had the conversation up.

Max: I’m just glad you’re ok. I’m not sure what happened, and I hope one day you feel comfortable enough to tell me. But, even if you don’t, just know I’m not upset and I hope we can still remain friends, if nothing else.

This fucking man. I swore, he was too good for this world. I couldn’t bring myself to say much or answer the first half of his question. I could never explain to him what happened and why I was such a freak. But I also couldn’t leave him on read.

Aiden: Friends sound good.

I silenced all notifications and threw my phone face down on the bed before going back to Pops. I couldn’t look at the conversation anymore.

Pops was watching me with concern, but I forced a smile. “Are you tired, or do you wanna watch a movie?”

I really hoped he was up for a movie. I just couldn’t be alone with my thoughts right now. Pops patted the couch next to him. “Come and sit. A movie sounds perfect.”

I sat down next to him as he found some cheesy romcom we were both secretly addicted to. I was sure therapists would have a field day with it: two guys who had been so royally fucked by a person who was supposed to love them that they sabotaged any chance of love before they could get hurt again were obsessed with watching others get their HEAs. But it did what Pops intended it to. The stress started to leave me, and after a while, I just focused on the movie and forgot everything that happened tonight.

Chapter9

Max

“Come on,buddy, we have to go. Get your shoes for me, please?” I asked Gray as I quickly shoved his lunch into hisBlack Pantherlunch box. I pulled a juice box out of the fridge and zipped it in with his turkey sandwich, sliced cucumbers, and granola bar.

“Ok, Dad!” he shouted to me without leaving the couch where he was watching a cartoon. I rolled my eyes—typical morning.

I was just about to nag him again to grab his shoes when the doorbell rang. Who was here first thing in the morning on a Tuesday?

---