Chapter 1 Prologue

Aiden's [POV]

There's nothing quite like sleeping on Victorian furniture, and it damned sure wasn't built for a situation as informal as passing out drunk. I woke up with a splitting headache and a crick in my neck, but worse than that, I wasn't alone. There was movement from the other side of the room.

I opened my eyes with a wince, then adjusted my lids to slits so I could peek out and see who was there with me. I didn't remember picking up anyone from the bar, but it wouldn't be the first time I'd brought home a woman and forgotten about it.

"Well, Aiden Joseph Walker, it's about time you wake up." The familiar voice made me cringe, as did the use of my full name. A grown man of nearly thirty should never be called by his full name, and only two people had ever done so in my life as far as I could recall. One was my mother, who'd been dead for over a year, and the other was Mattie Johnson, our family housekeeper who had mothered me alongside Mom my entire life.

"I was beginning to think you were dead. Lord knows there's something dead in this house. Smells like it, anyway." She waved her cleaning rag through the air and then turned to wipe down the family clock that hadn't had the correct time since I was twelve and pulled the pendulum too hard. Mattie had tanned my ass, and Mom had let her.

The only thing dead in the house was my sense of humor. "Shouldn't you be somewhere spending the insane retirement fund I paid you to leave me the hell alone?"

"You shut your mouth. I don't work for you anymore, and Lord knows why I bothered coming here, but I won't have you disrespecting me." The crack of the dishtowel popped about two inches from my ass before she turned around and went right back to wiping down the things around me. The smell of a chicken boiling set my mouth to water, but I wished she hadn't done that. My appetite wasn't what it used to be.

I sat up and wiped my eyes and scrubbed my fingers through my thick beard, giving it a scratch. "I don't understand what's so hard about respecting my wishes."

"Your wishes are getting out of hand. Look at this place, Aiden. It's a pigsty. You might want to grow your hair and beard to look like you haven't got two pennies to rub together, but this home needs attention, whether you like it or not. The grass is knee-deep, and there's a good year's worth of overgrowth out on the hedges."

"Yes, and that's because when I gave the gardener his payoff, he left and had the good graces not to come back."

"So that's it, you want to sit up in here and let this place crumble around you? I've sat on my hands for too long, boy. If your parents could roll over in their graves, the ground would be shaking just knowing how you're handling things around here. Your mother would take a razor to that face in your sleep and your father - he'd be damned embarrassed of you." I pegged her with a hard glare, but she held her chin up defiantly.

"Well, you can stop worrying. They won't be anything. They're dead." They'd died fourteen months ago in a tragic plane crash along with my sister, Ally, and her boyfriend, Shawn Patterson. I hadn't handled things well since then.

"Boy, to hear you talk. I'm glad I don't have to stick around and hear it." She shook her head and kept on cleaning.

"So does that mean you're leaving?" I patted down my pockets until I found my wallet and the key to my bike.

"I'll be leaving when I get this living room cleaned up. I made a good dent in the kitchen already, though I'm going to work on throwing out those science experiments you've got growing in the fridge. You're going to end up in the hospital if you eat that food."

"I'm not eating any of it." My keys jingled in my hand as I opened my wallet and thumbed through my bills.

She turned and shook her rag at me. "Damn right, you're not. I'm boiling some chickens now. I'm going to fix up some of my chicken noodles you used to love so much as a child."

"It's really not necessary, Mattie." I stared into her dark eyes as she narrowed them at me.

"I know what's necessary and what's not, but you'll be thanking me when you've got a full stomach. You look like you've lost a bit of your bulk."

I hadn't lost that much, but she was right. I'd been much bulkier before the accident and hadn't cared much about myself since. Going to the gym hadn't been en route to my destructive life's path, but I certainly hadn't withered away. I glanced down at my abs and was thankful they were still defined, although not as prominent as before.

"You don't have to do anything, much less clean up."

"I'm not leaving until these two front rooms are presentable and there's a hot meal to get you through a day or two. You can argue with me all you want, but it isn't going to change a thing."

"Knock yourself out." I took my keys out of my pocket and went out to the garage to get on my bike. I glared down the line of my parents' cars as I cranked my engine. I wondered if any of them would even crank anymore. Surely the batteries had died by now, but it wasn't like I'd ever drive them.

My father's classic Shelby, which he loved to torment me with and had never let me drive, his 'Vette, which he drove to and from work to compete with Layne's, and the family classic white Rolls, which he kept for Easter Sunday when Mother would force us to go to church. The entire collection had a good layer of dust collecting.

My sister's newer Mustang, which had been towed to the house from the airport along with Mom's Land Rover, was going to waste, but I didn't care. They could sit there until they rusted. I couldn't bear to think of anyone else driving any of them. I thought back to my little sister and the day my father bought her that car. She was in tears as she hugged him, and then I'd had to teach her how to drive a stick before she could use it.

Without another thought, I sped off with the memories of my sister twisting like a corkscrew in my gut.

I hauled ass out to the only place I frequented, a bar called Jay's Pub, and hoped that when I returned home, Mattie would be gone. Deep down, I felt a pang of guilt for talking to her so harshly, but I'd asked the staff to move on and leave me be. So far, she was the only one who still reached out. I didn't think her any amount of her cooking or cleaning would make me feel whole again, but if it helped her, I'd let her do what she had to. But I didn't have to be around to see it.