Chapter 11 #2
“Hey,” Aaron said, leaning closer, his voice lowering, “numbers keep this place running. My guitar just keeps folks entertained. I’d say your talent is the one that matters most in the world.”
Her cheeks warmed in a way that had nothing to do with the fire. To distract herself, she asked, “Were you always musical?”
“Yeah. I grew up around it. My mom sang in church, and my dad taught piano. I was banging on pots and pans before I could walk, and they put a guitar in my hands to save their cookware.”
Beth laughed as she let herself picture it, Aaron as a boy, grinning with a too-big guitar, his home filled with music. It sounded so different from her own upbringing. “Funny,” she said softly, “we grew up only about thirty miles apart, but our childhoods couldn’t have been more different.”
Aaron turned towards her fully now, elbows resting on his knees. “What was your childhood like?”
Her throat tightened, but she pushed through.
“Quiet. Structured. My dad worked hard, and my mother expected the same from me. There was no music drifting through the house, no late nights by a campfire. Just rules. Chores. School. I never thought much about it then, but now…” She stared into the fire, pushing back a strand of hair that had come loose in the wind.
“I guess I envy people who grew up with laughter in the home. My dad was wonderful, when he wasn’t working.
He’d sneak me out for an early morning fishing trip to the beach.
He’d take me to the ice cream parlor.” She glanced over at him.
“Our secret. My mother found out once and made me eat only broccoli for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the entire next day to counter the effects of the sugar.”
Aaron was silent for a beat, then said gently, “Just because you didn’t grow up that way doesn’t mean you can’t have that life now.”
Beth’s eyes flicked to his, and the warmth there was steady, grounding. For a moment she let herself breathe it in, the possibility of a life not ruled by fear but by choice.
“I think, in part, that’s why I love working here.” She glanced around again. At the happy faces sitting around the fires. Hearing the laughter mixed with music, warmed her. “I never had a camp experience growing up and this just feels right.”
“A crash course in the best and worst parts of normal teen years,” he joked as he motioned to a couple sitting across from them making out. She chuckled.
By the time the fires had burned down low, crackling softly, most of the guests had drifted away towards their cabins. She realized how comfortable she’d become sitting beside Aaron, talking about everything from silly camp talent shows to how different their childhoods had been.
She rose when he did, brushing ash and pine needles from her jeans. “This was fun, thanks for sitting with me,” she said with a small smile.
Aaron tipped his head towards the darkened path. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
She was instantly thankful he’d offered. She’d never really liked staying this late on the grounds. Even though the pathways were well lit, the shadows spooked her.
In the summer months, it was still light out when she left work. During the winter, however, she would leave at dusk and rush quickly to her car out of fear. She hated that she was still jumping at shadows, thanks to Ian.
The night was quiet except for the crunch of gravel under their steps as they moved between pathways. The lantern lights along the pathways guided them, along with a soft glow of moonlight that filtered through the trees.
“It’s hard to believe you grew up on a ranch not far from here,” she said, glancing at him.
“You’re welcome to come see for yourself on your next day off?”
“Deal.” She stopped suddenly. “If you’re serious.”
“I’m always serious.” He smiled at her and had her chuckling.
“I have the day after tomorrow off. You?”
He quickly thought and then shrugged. “I’ll move my days around to match yours.” Before she could argue, he took her hand and continued walking.
“Different worlds doesn’t mean we didn’t both want the same thing.” He glanced over at her. “A loving family.”
She nodded and then added, “Different world is right. While I was learning to balance checkbooks at the dinner table, you were…”
“…running barefoot through the woods, pretending sticks were swords,” he finished with a grin. “I didn’t even know what a checkbook was until I was twenty.”
She felt a wave of sadness wash over her, knowing that was probably when his parents died. “I could solve equations in my head but had never climbed a tree.”
Aaron’s smile softened. “Guess we balance each other out then.”
They reached her car, which was parked beneath the tall pines near the front of the lot.
There were only a handful of employees’ cars left in the lot.
Beth hesitated by the door, her keys in her hand.
The night seemed to hold its breath like she was doing.
Would he kiss her? She’d made the first move. Was it his turn?
Aaron leaned one shoulder against the car, watching her as she debated making the next move herself. “I had a good time tonight. Thanks for sticking around.”
“Me too.” Her voice came out quieter than she intended.
For a heartbeat she thought he’d simply say goodnight and leave her standing there. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against her face, pushing that stubborn strand away from her cheek. Her breath caught, anticipation thrumming through her.
“Beth?” he murmured, his eyes locking with hers after his gaze had flicked down to her lips for a beat. He was asking permission.
She gave the slightest nod. That was all it took. His lips found hers in a gentle kiss, unhurried, warm. It wasn’t demanding, like when she’d kissed him the other day, but it sent a rush of heat through her, scattering the last of her doubts.
He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Goodnight,” he whispered, his voice low, steady.
“Goodnight,” she echoed, her smile trembling but real.
He waited until she unlocked her car and slid inside, then watched until her headlights flickered on. She drove away with her pulse racing and the taste of his kiss lingering, the thought steady in her chest: maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as broken as she’d feared.