If I Fall by Anna Cruise Page A

He'd chosen her.
    I shook my head. If it had been me, standing up there, I would have chosen him. Not just because there was no other parent waiting for me. That part didn't matter. Even if there had been, if my mom had been sober and involved in my life, I still would have chosen him. I wanted him .
    I fingered the phone in my pocket and debated. I knew Case was right, that I needed to call and apologize. But I couldn't do it now, not with the way I was feeling. Hurt and resentment would dictate what I would say, not the little amount of remorse I felt. I bit my lip and searched the water for Aidan, the only person in my life right now who did seem to care about me.
    He surfed for an hour. I watched him as though I were watching a movie. He paddled out and straddled his board, gripping the sides as he glanced behind him, scoping the waves. He'd see one—I couldn't tell which were good or not—and lay down and start to paddle. The wave would crest underneath his board and he would get to his knees and then stand, hunched down, arms slightly extended as he rode the length of it, weaving back and forth in the barrel. I could almost see the smile on his face. Sometimes he'd ride all the way in, stepping off into the shallows before heading back out; other times, he'd lay down before the wave crashed into shore and work his way back out.
    After a few more waves, he stepped on to the sand and I saw him wave to a few guys out in the water before turning toward me. He didn't paddle back out; instead, he walked up the hill, his board under one arm. Back to me.
    He leaned down to kiss me, a sweet, salty kiss. “Hey you.” His tousled hair was already drying. “Have fun?”
    I hopped off the hood, ignoring his question. Thinking about my dad had not been fun. At all. “You're good.”
    He grinned. “I know.”
    He strapped the board to the roof and, using the towel again as his make-shift changing room, stripped off his wetsuit. I stared at his smooth, tanned chest and his hard, muscled stomach and my knees buckled just a bit. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? He caught me looking and leered at me, his grin widening.
    “You want some right now?” he asked, hitching his towel a little lower.
    I reached out my hand to pull it up and he intercepted, pressing my palm against the rough fabric. “Well?”
    “Stop it,” I said, my face warming. I glanced around to see if anyone was watching.
    He laughed and dropped my hand. “OK, good girl. We'll wait 'til later.”
    We drove the short distance to his mom's house. I'd asked him once why he didn't spend time at his dad's. He had a house in Mission Beach, right on the boardwalk, just a few blocks from the restaurant he owned. Aidan had just shrugged and said he liked his freedom. He certainly had that at his mom's.
    She was on her way out as we walked through the door, clutching keys and her purse. She wore a fitted blue dress that matched her eyes and her blond hair was pulled off her face, secured with a wide, black headband.
    “Hi, sweetie,” she said to him. She smiled at me. “Oh, hi.”
    I was pretty sure she didn't know my name.
    “ Where're you going?” Aidan asked her.
    “ Brunch with the Brennan's. At George's.”
    He nodded. “Have fun.”
    “You, too,” she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. I thought about what our afternoon would probably have in store and smiled. She really was completely clueless.
    Once in his room, I kicked my shoes off and lay down on his bed. The covers were thrown back, the pillows bunched up together. I turned into them, breathing in the musky, slightly smoky scent of him that lingered there. I never thought I would like the smell of tobacco but on him, I did. I liked everything about him.
    He flopped down next to me, face-down, and draped his arm across my stomach. I moved closer and his arm curved more fully around me.
    “ I'm beat,” he said.
    “ Me, too.”
    He reached for the comforter and pulled it up over us.