35
Trent
My fingers trace slow circles on Aubrey’s skin as she rests against me, our bodies warm beneath the sheets. She’s already asleep—at least, I think she is—her breath soft and steady against my chest. But my head won’t quiet.
It keeps replaying—the corn maze. The way she gasped when I pulled her back against me, the heat of her mouth on mine, the world spinning down to just that moment.
Until Justin’s voice cut through it like a blade.
The way she panicked when he caught us, how she jerked back like she’d been burned.
The guilt in her eyes. The shame.
And how quick she was to beg him not to say anything.
I told myself it didn’t bother me—that it didn’t matter—but lying here now, with her curled up in my arms like nothing happened, I can’t shake the sting of watching her rush to hide us.
I’m trying not to push her. Trying to respect her need for privacy. But it’s starting to feel like I’m the only one carrying this weight.
I glance down at her. Her cheek is pressed against my chest, her lashes soft shadows against her skin. I reach up and brush a few stray strands of hair from her face.
She stirs slightly, her lips curving against my skin. Her hand moves lazily, tracing small circles through the faint dusting of hair on my chest. The touch is light, familiar—and it breaks me a little, how easy it still feels between us.
Before I can stop myself, the question slips out, “Are you happy?”
Her head lifts, her brows drawing together as her eyes find mine. “What?” she whispers, voice thick with sleep.
I hesitate, my thumb brushing across her cheek. “Just… are you happy? With this? With us?”
Her brows knit slightly. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know.” I try to play it off with a small shrug. “I was just curious, that’s all.”
She studies me for a moment, then tilts her head. “Are you happy?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Even still,” she murmurs, a faint smile touching her lips, “I’d like to hear you say it.”
I can’t help but smile back. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as happy as I do right now—with you. Every moment I’m with you, I feel like the luckiest guy on the planet. And when we’re apart…” I shake my head, my voice softening. “I’m desperate to be with you again.”
I reach up, cupping her face in my hand, my thumb tracing slow strokes across her cheek. “You never have to question my feelings for you, baby. They’re not going anywhere. Ever.”
Her laugh is quiet, teasing, but there’s warmth behind it. “You sound a little obsessed.”
“How could I not be?” I grin, brushing my nose against hers. “Have you seen you?”
She lets out a small laugh, her breath mingling with mine, and for a moment, the heaviness between us lifts—like the world outside doesn’t exist.
“You make me really happy too,” she says softly. “You’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I close my eyes. I have to fight the urge to call you every ten minutes because I melt at the sound of your voice.”
“Do it,” I cut her off gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She chuckles, shaking her head. “You’d hate it if I did.”
“I promise you I wouldn’t.”
She smiles, brushing her lips against mine in a soft kiss. When she starts to pull back, I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, holding her there a moment longer, deepening it.
When we finally part, her eyes stay closed, her breathing slow and steady. I run my thumb over her bottom lip, memorizing every line of her face.
“I’m glad you’re happy, baby,” I murmur.
“I really am,” she whispers.
“I am too,” I say quietly, “but I hate not being able to be like this in public. Today at your stall, I wanted to kiss you, hold your hand, shout about how amazing my girl is—but I couldn’t. It’s getting harder to force those urges down, Bree.”
She opens her eyes, searching mine. “I just think it’s nice having something that’s… ours. For now.”
“I get that,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, “but we can still have that—with everyone knowing.”
“Can we?” she asks softly.
“Do you not want to tell anyone? Are you ashamed of being with me?”
“No, of course not,” she says quickly, shaking her head.
“Then why wait?”
“I’m just not ready yet,” she admits, biting her lip.
“When will you be ready?” I press gently.
“Soon. I promise.” She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. I close my eyes, taking a slow breath, trying to swallow the frustration rising in my chest.
I would do just about anything for this woman. So if she needs a bit more time, who am I to push her into something she’s not ready for?
I lean back against the mattress, keeping my arms curled firmly around Aubrey as silence falls between us. She lays her head softly on my chest again, and I feel her breath steady against me. Deciding to push down my own racing thoughts about our secret relationship, I shift the conversation.
“So… my mom was walking around the festival today, arm in arm with Mr. Edwards,” I say, forcing a casual tone.
Aubrey sits up suddenly, her eyes wide in shock, though a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “No way! Oh my goodness. Hazel Gibson has a boyfriend?” She chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I don’t know if he’s her boyfriend, but there’s definitely something going on there,” I reply with a grin.
Aubrey’s expression softens, and she rests her chin in her hands. “I actually think I love this for her. Your mom deserves to find someone and be happy. Maybe this is her fresh start, her second chance at love.”
“Yeah, I love it for her too,” I say, smiling down at her. “I was just shocked when they walked toward me. Before she noticed me, she had the biggest smile on her face. She looked really happy.”
Aubrey leans back against me again, nudging my shoulder playfully. “So cute,” she murmurs, a small grin spreading across her face.
“I guess we aren’t the only couple with secrets, huh?” I tease.
“I guess we’re not the only ones lucky enough for a second chance,” she replies, leaning up to kiss me.
I cup her face in my hands, and our lips meet. I pull back slightly, searching her eyes, and in that gaze I see everything: love, trust, and the way she has completely claimed me.
“I guess we’re not,” I whisper, rolling us until I’m hovering over her. My bare skin pressing against hers, and every touch, every shift of my body says what words never could. I move slowly, deliberately, letting her feel how much she means to me—how much of me is hers.
Aubrey gasps softly, clutching my shoulders as she melts against me. Her trust, her surrender, it hits me like nothing else ever could. I trace her curves, feel her warmth, and let my body do the talking.
We move together in a quiet rhythm, every glance and touch carrying everything I’ve ever felt for her. And when we finally pause, tangled together, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
No words are needed. No explanations. Just us.
And in that quiet, intimate space, I know this is where I belong.