#samisactuallydeadoops

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

Part Two

Aelin leaned her head against a solid chest and counted the beats. These stolen moments were what she and Sam lived for. His breaths were even, and the gentle rumble of thunder outside assured their temporary safety.

 Arobynn's plain was delayed due to the torrential downpour flooding Rifthold. They'd received the text at the same time, and Sam immediately came to find her. Sneaking into the manor was risky, but Tern, Harding, and Mulligan were all occupied, and no one would dare enter Arobynn's office while he was away.

Well, everyone besides them. The danger was definitely worth it, Aelin mused as she stretched like a cat and sprawled into a more comfortable position over the muscled torso. A hand reached up and dragged calloused fingers through her hair, making her preen with satisfaction.

 Sam chuckled from below her, spread out like a starfish on Arobynn's poached polar bear rug. She felt sad for the untimely death of the creature, but she couldn't deny it made the perfect spot for their rendezvous.

 "We can't stay like this forever," Sam reminds her gently. He works his fingers down her long blond hair to the nape of her neck, where he works at the knotted muscles.

 "Not now, but soon," she reminds him as if he wasn't the one to concoct their crazy escape plan.

 A kiss pressed against her forehead marks the seal of his promise. "Soon," he agrees. "This hell will be over for you and me." The conviction of his voice lets that little tealight of hope in her chest flicker dangerously.

 "We will be free. The only dreams we will be having is what our home together will look like," she nuzzles into his chest and urges him to keep going. He knows she likes it when he talks long term to her.

"In the mornings, I will wake up to you in my bed. Your hair all over the place, and your arms constricting me like a hungry python."

 She cracks her eyes open at that and gives him a sleepy glare.

 "I wouldn't change a single thing about it," he continues. "Knowing you are safe with me is all I will ever need to be happy. Waking up to you in my arms is enough beauty to sate me wherever we end up. I'll be the happiest man alive."

 Tears burned the corners of her eyes, and a lump ached in her throat. For so long, she'd been deprived of affection and relationships of any kind. Aelin couldn't help the feeling of free-falling every time Sam declared his love. It was a treasure she thought she'd never had again. "I love you, Sam," Aelin whispers against his chest and presses a messy kiss to the muscle there.

 "Then why didn't you look for me?" His voice cracks in pain.

 Startled, Aelin's head shoots up. Ice chills her blood, and the screams that pour from Aelin's mouth are unearthly when she's faced with the gaping holes where his eyes should be.

 His eyes. She feels that familiar pain beneath her ribs. Those eyes that had been so kind. Made her feel so safe and radiated warmth. Aelin mourned their loss. Mourned him.

 "You didn't look for me," those damning words left his lips again.

 Aelin wakes up with a sob. "I'm sorry," she yells to the empty room.

 "I'm sorry," she keens. There are no hands in her hair. No beating heart beneath her cheek. She curls into a ball and grabs locks of her hair, pulling at them until strands fall loosely into her hand. The agony builds until it pinches her gut so hard and wrenches her heart so profoundly that she barely makes it to the toilet before hot, acidic bile burns a path up her throat.

 It burns through her over and over until she's leaned against the toilet seat sobbing. Her arms wrapped around her midsection protectively.    

 Morning sickness should have passed by now, but she still spent a great deal of time in this position. It never got less painful, and Aelin's seemed more aggressive than what other mothers recounted experiencing online. Her constant sickness and nightmares were leaving her feeling weak.

 Maybe it was a punishment for bringing a little life into a world that had savaged its father? That thought crossed Aelin's mind often. Perhaps it was penance for her selfishness. Her wanting to keep this small piece of Sam despite knowing the kind of life it would be subjected to endure.

 There was no forgiveness for the things she's done. Why would the universe let her have this? She should just be grateful it hadn't been taken from her entirely.

 Spineless, coward.

 Aelin laid curled up on the bathroom floor for hours. Existing in a constant cycle of sickness followed by mental torment. Chills wracked her frame, and she trembled on the cold tile. She barely had the energy to lift herself up when the urge to vomit struck her. Words floated in her head, furthering her misery.

 Coward. Liar. Oathbreaker. Life taker.

 That's where Lysandra found her, at a much more reasonable hour of the morning. Aelin was so tired she could only sob when the door cracked open. Her head fell forward and rested against the porcelain seat, too weak to hold it up any longer.

 Lysandra had cringed and very gently guided her head from the toilet rim to her shoulder, nestling Aelin's forehead into the crook of her neck despite the cold-sweat there.

 She crooned sweet nothings and soothed Aelin until she had the strength to stand up and collect herself. Lysandra helped her dress and brush her teeth. She left Aelin to sit on the couch and came back with lightly buttered toast, a glass of water, and a cup of ginger tea.

 Her attempt to decline it was futile. Lysandra left no room for argument. Slowly, Aelin bit the toast and sipped the tea. Bite by bite and drink by drink, she finished the breakfast.

 Lysandra didn't relent her hovering for the rest of the morning. As she was forced through her morning routine under her friend's watchful eye, she began to feel more human, and that awful pain slowly faded to the background of her mind. Nausea still rolled in her belly, but the food and drink helped settle it enough for her to function.

 Now here Aelin was, only a couple of hours later, filling muffin cups to have ready for the early morning regulars.

Her attitude was dismal.

 She felt sick. Her body ached from hours of lying on the cold tile. Sweat soaked her clothes and chilled her forehead. Just looking at her cup of tea made her angry that it wasn't coffee, but her stomach burned so furiously that not even coffee sounded good. It was a horrible paradox and was only just that much more upsetting.

 Aelin felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, and she slammed the bowl of batter down so hard that it splattered up her apron. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and tried to will the tears back down.

 Maybe she would cave to Lysandra's demands that she go upstairs and rest. It went grated against her desire to be self-sufficient and independent, but taking a hot bath and curling up in her bed sounded like pure bliss. The baby would likely benefit from her decompressing, too. That thought sold her on the idea.

 The bell at the counter rang.

 Aelin took a deep breath and washed her hands quickly. She would take this customer and then let Lysandra know she was taking the day off.

 Thinking of the jasmine soap and the warm blanket waiting for her upstairs was just enough for her to plaster on a smile.

 "Goodmorning, how can I- you," The last word came out in a hiss. Aelin's smile melted as quickly as it came.

 The asshole was back, and he brought a friend.

 Whoop-dee-freaking-doo.

 To his credit, the friend was equally as beautiful as the Asshole himself. He had dark skin, the color of polished pennies, and long blonde hair that coiled just above the arches of his cheekbones. If his choice of companionship didn't perturb Aelin so much, she might've found him attractive.

 Hell, she found him attractive anyway.

 "Is that how you greet all your customers, sweetheart?" The friend smiled at her, and his perfect teeth were bright enough to signal plains.

 "Do you call every girl sweetheart or only the ones you want to spit in your coffee?" Her tone is sharp enough to cut glass, and the man's eyes widen at the challenge.

 "I don't drink coffee, but I supposed the hot chocolate I was going to order is just as easy to violate," he laughs warmly, and her eyes follow the motion of his adam's apple. "How about I lay off the pet names in exchange for a warm cup of sugar without saliva?" His face was sincere enough that she felt less inclined to spite him for his choice of friends.

 "Your name?" she asks.

 "Fenrys," he offers without a joke, and Aelin writes it on a cup.

"I want a dark roast, black." The asshole reiterated his order from the day before. He had his arms crossed, and his face was set in a grimace. His comment the other day still rang in her ears, and she was certainly not feeling generous. Aelin scowled at him and left them both at the counter without a word.

 It only took a few minutes to make the cocoa. She made every cup from scratch with a recipe she'd been perfecting since childhood. As she prepped the drink, the store bells rang again.

 Turning around with the drink, she spotted her cousin Aedion at the door and smiled.

 She and Aedion had been separated by the system shortly after her parent's death. He was five years older, and their caseworker though Aelin stood a better chance of being adopted by herself. It was a traumatic memory for both of them. They'd found each other about a year ago, and it took little time for them to rekindle their relationship.

 She set the cup on the counter in front of them. "That will be three-fifty." The Asshole raised a pale eyebrow. "My coffee?"

"I have the right to refuse services to anyone I wish. That will be three-fifty." Aelin felt great satisfaction as The Asshole's lips pinched together and his scowl deepened.

 Aedion raised his eyebrow from across the room.

Lysandra chose that moment to walk back in, and when she caught sight of Aelin's expression and saw the seething man in front of her, she hastily made her way over.

"Can I help you?" She asks, looking towards the men. Aelin knew the question was directed at her, though.

 There were a lot of eyes on her. Aedion. Asshole. Handsome Fenrys. Lysandra. Aelin thrived on attention, but there was a difference between attention and being a spectacle. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller and crowded.

 Fenrys placed a hand on the Asshole's shoulder, concerned. "Hey. It's fine. We can get your cup of dirt water somewhere else. It's not a big deal, Rowan."

 Rowan.

 "I am a paying customer," the man, Rowan, gritted through his teeth.

 "You are paying for my coffee and pastries," Aelin snarled. "Your money does not purchase you the right to verbally abuse me.

 Aedion was over in an instant, chest puffed and oozing with male bravado. "Well met, gentleman. I believe my cousin said three-fifty." He edged close enough to bother their personal space. "If it's too difficult for you to figure out, I can help you count your coins and show you the door?"

 At six-two, Aedion was an intimidating figure. He was physically massive—layers of dense muscle from underground fighting and patrolling the streets with his gang, The Bane. An impressive tapestry of ink sprawled across his chest, curling out of his sleeves and collar just enough to let others know it's there. Most people would see him and think twice about approaching him.

 Rowan was taller than Aedion even, and perhaps more muscular as well. They squared up, neither breaking eye contact.

 Fenrys seemed displeased with the turn of events, but when Aedion turned to glare at him, there was a flash of recognition in his eyes. He was next to Rowan in an instant, pushing on his chest. "That's enough of your shit. I'll pay, and we are leaving."

 He fished out five dollars from the pocket of his trousers and tossed it on the counter. "Keep the change. Sorry for disturbing your day, ladies."

 When the shop bells jingled, and the door slammed shut behind them, Aelin sighed and felt herself wilt against the counter. Her breathing was labored, and her heart still thrummed with the excess of adrenalin. She was prepared for a fight. Muscle memory had her tense and ready for the situation to escalate, which of course, it didn't. Old habits died hard, though.

 A steadying hand was gripping her elbow and helping her lean into a solid body. "Hey, Ace. Relax, it's fine."

 Lysandra shook her head, "That was the bastard from yesterday, I am guessing? You should have let me take care of that." She points up the stairs. "Go. You need to take a day off. Upstairs. Make sure she sits down, Aedion."

 "I had it handled," Aelin grumbled, allowing Aedion to tug her towards the stairs in the back of the little kitchen.

 Her cousin snorted, "Oh, I know you can handle yourself. The stress isn't good for Little A, though."

 "You just want to throw your street cred around."

 Aedion laughed, "That too."

 Aelin slumped onto the thread worn couch and tugged at her tennis shoes. She sighed when they finally slipped off, and she could rest her swollen feet on the old coffee table. Their apartment wasn't the luxury she and Lysandra were accustomed to, but it was more of a home than the Mannor had been.

 "You look exhausted," Aedion stated bluntly.

 Aelin closed her eyes and hummed. "Is that the language you use when you talk people into your bed?"

 "Not a lot of talking is required for that," Aedion says with a straight face. "Even if it was, I would be practicing on Lysandra, not you."

 Few words passed between them after that. They weren't necessary. Aelin and Aedion talked and texted all the time, but there were times when they just needed to soak in each other's presence. Years apart starved them of that unspoken bond they'd had as children.

 Being close to Aedion was one of the few things that staved the fear and allowed her to relax. He was like the familiar taste of hot tea and the warmth of a childhood blanket wrapped into one. She had no doubt that Lysandra had called and ordered him to come to see her at some point this morning.

 The Bane typically showed up on Friday nights to play poker at her tables and hang out. Aedion would stay through the weekend, and they would catch up then. An early morning visit on a weekday was out of the ordinary. Occasionally Kyllian or Jerome would pop by and make sure nothing was amiss.

 When Aelin and Lysandra liberated themselves and opened the shop, Aedion had insisted they find a location in The Bane's stomping ground. Arobynn was less likely to stumble across them outside of his territory. She'd seen Tern and Mulligan prowling the streets.

 Arobynn wouldn't let them go so quickly.

 Aelin hadn't wanted Aedion to get involved, but there was no way he would leave them defenseless.

 They compromised.

 Once a month Aelin would donate a small share of The Stag's tips for their protection. It was a pitiful amount. So she also offered her spare bedroom as a hideaway for Aedion's friends who needed a place to lay low. So far, only Ren had utilized it, but it was always ready to go.

 Aelin was by no means someone to screw with. Her other name was just as well known on the streets as The Bane were. It was a good arrangement.

 It's why Rowan had gotten under her skin so badly. She needed those tips to keep The Bane well equipped and for other resources to keep Arobynn out of her hair.

 He didn't know about the baby. Didn't realize the depth of how much Aelin had actually betrayed him. There would be hell to pay if he ever found out.

 Plus, baby shit was expensive.

 "So," Aedion finally broke the silence. "How did you piss off the cops?"

 Wait. "What?" Aelin sat up and leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

 "That was Detective Fenrys. He booked me the last time one of our fights got broken up. Nice guy. Let me out on a technicality." Aedion smiled. "Maybe he just thought I was good looking. He's not wrong. I am assuming the other guy is his partner."

 "They are detectives?" Aelin spat.

 "The best and brightest Orynth has to offer," Aedion ruffled her hair as he stood. "You sure know how to pick your fights, cousin."

 Well shit.