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Seth chuckled despite himself and only reluctantly dropped Aiden's wrist once Tessa wandered from the living room.
"I have a literary question," she announced, rubbing a kink from the back of her neck. "In Dante's Inferno, which circle of hell is reserved for organic chemistry?"
"I thought you were taking a break from school?" Aiden asked.
"I squeezed in a distance learning class," she murmured distractedly. Her eyes flickered between them, clocking the tension immediately. Seth didn't like her speculative expression. Before he could say anything to explain, she noticed the blood and cried, "Oh, no! Did Mr. Whiskers do it again?"
Seth laughed, and the tight knot his heart had been twisted into ever since he'd dragged Aiden from the frozen lake began to relax. It felt like he could breathe again. Fairweather friends meant nothing to him; the only two people he cared about were Tessa and Aiden, and tonight, they were both safely within arm's reach. As they settled down to share a meal in the cozy glow of the kitchen, he felt almost…happy.
That was when Aiden sprang it on him—Seth had almost forgotten he'd had something he wanted to talk about.
"You're going to do what?" Seth asked, beer bottle frozen halfway to his lips.
Aiden looked up from his burger and licked at a smudge of mustard at the corner of his mouth, momentarily disarming Seth. He reluctantly tore his gaze away and demanded, "Say that again. I must not have heard you correctly because it sounded like you said you were planning on letting a horse yank you around on fucking skis."
"It's a real sport," Aiden said defensively. He dug a crinkled flyer from the back pocket of his jeans and slid it across the table. "It's not like I'd be skydiving without a parachute."
"Might as well be," Seth grumbled, smoothing wrinkles from the paper and reading the fine print. "What the hell are they trying to do down at city hall? Turn Winterfest into the next Burning Man?"
"Could be fun," Tessa piped up, grinning impishly when Seth pointed a silencing finger in her direction. She was only picking at her burger, pretending to eat while her eyes danced between them like she was in the front row at Wimbledon.
"When did you learn how to ski?" Seth asked.
Aiden shrugged. "A few years ago. I tagged along with Nate Silva and Will Preston when they headed to Mount Hood for Will's bachelor party. That week is still a little fuzzy, but I remember a blond with the biggest?—"
Seth cut a glance toward Tessa, and Aiden abruptly veered his runaway mouth onto another track. "—personality you ever saw."
"Nice save," Tessa said dryly.
Aiden winked at her before returning his attention to Seth and adding, "I also remember being damned good at the skiing part. I'm fearless on jumps."
"You're crazy."
"For ten grand in prize money, I could get a hell of a lot crazier," Aiden declared, tipping his chair back on two legs and grinning like a fox.
"Judging by that fancy truck, you're not short on cash," Seth said slowly, giving his suspicions time to fully form. "You haven't had trouble finding work since leaving us, so why the sudden need for money?"
Aiden shrugged. "No big mystery. Who wouldn't turn down extra money?"
Seth studied him closely, taking in the tightness of his jaw and the way his pretty blue eyes couldn't quite meet Seth's gaze, and he connected the dots. The years might have added some extra scars and laugh lines, but they hadn't changed the core of what made Aiden Doyle the man Seth would give everything to protect. Aiden was stupidly loyal…even when people didn't deserve it.
"You still paying your mom's bills?" he asked, though it wasn't a question.
One corner of Aiden's mouth jerked, more grimace than smile, and he set his burger back on his plate with a wistful look. Seth tried to ignore the way he licked grease from his thumb.
"It's not like I pay her rent anymore," Aiden said uncomfortably. "She just needs some extra help now and then."
"She's a white-collar professional, and you're a beef slinger," Seth pointed out. "How is she so bad at handling money? What's she doing with her own? Trips to Vegas?"
A muscle was starting to tick in Aiden's jaw, a surefire hint that he was beginning to lose his temper. "It doesn't matter," he said stiffly. "I'm her son, and I'm the only man in her life. It's my responsibility to help if she asks for it."
"Well, if that don't beat all…" Seth shook his head.
Everything old was new again. Aiden was sitting at his kitchen table, rehashing the same argument they'd had a dozen times, and Seth already felt the irresistible impulse to fix all his problems. The disastrous loss of his father's herd had been a wake-up call, a warning that they needed to grow up and take accountability in their lives. But Seth was starting to think people didn't ever really change. They just got better at hiding their dysfunction.
He'd never liked Barbara Doyle, ever since the day they met, when she'd looked down her nose at him and sniffed like he'd carried something in on his boots. She treated all of Aiden's friends like dirt but hated Seth the most because she saw him as competition—for her son's attention, affection, and influence. Aiden wasn't stupid; he understood his mother's tricks better than anyone, but he could never bring himself to stand up to her.
"I can't believe you're still busting your ass for her," Seth said, running an aggravated hand through his hair. "She's a grown woman. You aren't responsible for taking care of her or making her happy. You know it's never going to happen."
