Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
A aron had insisted on taking at least a week off to help Beth acclimate after the fire, even though he was positive he was going to be under foot while she tried to adjust.
The first morning in his house, Aaron woke before the sun, restless from a night of half-sleep.
Knowing that Beth was a few doors down made sleeping difficult.
He’d brewed coffee, scrambled some eggs, and set out toast before he even realized he was moving on autopilot.
By the time Beth padded into the kitchen in a pair of her new sweatpants, her hair still damp from the shower, he had a plate waiting for her at the table.
She blinked at him, like she wasn’t sure whether to sit. “You don’t have to wait on me. You know, make me breakfast and?—”
“I was on autopilot,” he cut in gently, setting down a mug, “before my coffee kicked in.” He shrugged. “Eat what you can. I can make something else if this doesn’t work.”
She gave the faintest smile, one corner of her mouth lifting, then lowered herself carefully into the chair.
He sat across from her, eating his own food and pretending he wasn’t cataloging every forkful she managed.
When she pushed the plate back, half finished, he dumped the rest of her eggs onto his plate and finished every bite while she watched him.
When he was done, he whisked the dishes away without comment and cleaned up while she looked out the window, sipping her second cup of coffee.
“You’re not a morning person,” she said when he was done.
“I am, just… not a functioning one.”
She chuckled, setting her cup down. “That makes no sense.”
“Exactly,” he said, sliding into the chair across from her again. “So, what’s on your agenda today? Aside from hopefully doing absolutely nothing.”
Beth tilted her head, thinking. “I was going to call my insurance company. They said they’d update me about my apartment, and I still haven’t heard anything. Beyond that…” She trailed off, lifting one shoulder. “I guess I’ll see what the day throws at me.”
Before Aaron could answer, her phone buzzed on the table. She flinched before realizing the caller ID read Insurance Claims. “I guess they heard me.” She gave him a look, half nervous, half resigned, before answering.
“Hello? Yes, this is Beth.”
Aaron stayed quiet, sipping his coffee while she listened, her expression shifting from neutral to tense, then finally to a kind of weary acceptance.
“Yes, I understand. Okay. Thank you for letting me know.” She ended the call and set her phone down carefully, like it might shatter in her hands.
“Well?” he asked softly.
“They’re still assessing the damage. Said it could be weeks before they can make an estimate. They said they have to wait to get the official word from the police on how the fire started.” She rubbed her forehead. “It’s almost as if they think I set it on fire myself.”
Aaron reached across the table, taking her hand. “It’s a process. Don’t worry about it today, since you can’t do anything more. You’ve been through hell. You don’t need to be worrying about anything right now except healing and resting.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “It just feels like my life is… gone.”
“You still have a wonderful job and friends,” he said firmly. “You’re not on your own. You haven’t been since you stepped foot in River Camps.”
“You’re right.” Beth’s throat worked as she swallowed, and she gave a small nod. “I guess I could use a day to recover. To just breathe.” She glanced around. “What do you do on your days off around here?”
He laughed. “Chores. The animals need feeding, cleaning up after, and exercise.”
“This place must take a lot of work to keep up.”
He shrugged. “It’s worth it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What were you talking to Aiden about?” He tilted his head in question. “Something about a dresser?” she hinted, and he smiled.
“I have a workshop out in the barn where I restore old furniture. There’s one dresser that is giving me difficulties.”
“How many pieces have you done?” She leaned on the table, resting her chin in her hand.
“A couple dozen.” He motioned to the hutch along the back wall and then the small case that held his mother’s dishes. “These were my first. They were my mother’s and just needed some love.”
Beth’s gaze softened as she studied the pieces, then drifted back to him. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be good with that kind of detail work.”
He chuckled. “Patience comes with practice.” He let his eyes linger on her just a second longer than he should have. “Besides, it feels good to take something broken and make it whole again.”
Something flickered across her face, quick and vulnerable, and he forced himself to look back at the hutch instead of asking her what she was thinking.
She stood up suddenly and walked over to rinse her coffee cup.
“I’ve got this. Why don’t you go rest?” He’d seen her holding back a yawn.
The bruises on her arms and face were a light yellow already and the cuts no longer needed bandages.
There were still dark circles under her eyes, hinting that she still needed rest. “You can head in and watch television if you want.” He finished cleaning her mug.
“Thanks,” she said, touching his arm. “I am still tired. I think I may just head upstairs and rest a little more.”
“Good,” he said, leaning back, satisfaction written across his face. “That’s the only item on your agenda. Rest. Doctor’s orders.”
Her brow arched. “You’re not a doctor.”
“No,” he said, his mouth twitching into a grin, “but I’m pretty damn good at looking out for people who need it.”
He watched her go before starting in on his normal day-off chore list. For the next few hours, he remained outside, feeding, watering, and exercising all of the animals.
By lunchtime, he was starving and headed inside, where Beth was fast asleep on the sofa with the news playing softly on the television. As quiet as he could, he headed into the kitchen to fix them some lunch.
He ended up making them some sandwiches, which he cut diagonally on a tray like his mother used to do when he stayed home sick from school.
He also put out some potato salad he’d bought at the store and some crackers and tuna dip.
He had finished setting the table and putting a few of the flowers she’d gotten in the hospital in the center of the table when Beth walked in.
“Are you hungry?”
Beth nodded and he pulled out the chair for her.
“Tea or lemonade?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of tea.
“Tea.” She watched him as he worked. “This looks amazing,” she said when he sat across from her. “Do you always go all out for every meal?”
He chuckled. “No, but I’m hoping to impress you.” He wiggled his eyebrows, making her smile grow. “I figured it was the least I could do to make you feel more at home.”
“At home, I would have had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with potatoes chips and a soda. This is more like being waited on hand and foot.”
“I could stop?” he teased.
“Only if you get tired of it.” She laughed.
She seemed steadier now, as if the relaxing morning had done her a world of good.
“After lunch, do you want some help putting all your new things away?” he asked as they ate.
She glanced towards the stairs and then shrugged. “If you have nothing better to do. I hung a few things up, but…” She held up her right hand, still covered in bruises.
He nodded. “I’d be happy to help.”
It took them nearly an hour to sort through her new things.
Most were still in their packages or the bags they’d been delivered in.
While she sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, he hung shirts in the empty closet and folded shorts, pants, socks, and pajamas and put them into the drawers of the dresser.
She’d pull a tag loose here, smooth a sleeve there, her voice soft as she admitted she’d forgotten what it felt like to own clothes that someone else had picked out for her.
He didn’t say anything to that, just kept busy making sure everything was lined up neatly.
At some point, her answers slowed, words trailing off, and he realized that she’d laid down and drifted off to sleep while lying sideways on the comforter, her eyes closed, breaths even.
The plastic tags still littered the floor, but he didn’t care.
He tugged the blanket over her shoulders and stood there a long moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the tension finally eased from her face.
Downstairs, he busied himself cleaning up the lunch mess. Then he tossed the shopping bags, broke down some boxes in the garage, wiped counters that didn’t need wiping, and mopped the floors. Anything to keep his hands moving, because if he stopped, he’d picture the smoke, the flames.
He knew it was going to be a long week trying not to hover while she healed.
When the sun dipped low over the tree line, Aaron finally ran out of pointless chores to keep his hands busy.
He found himself leaning against the counter in the kitchen, listening for the sound of movement upstairs.
He’d almost convinced himself she’d sleep through dinner when he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Beth appeared in the doorway, her hair mussed from her nap, cheeks still pink with sleep. She rubbed her eyes like she wasn’t sure if she should apologize for dozing off.
“Hey,” he said easily, pushing off the counter. “You look rested.”
“I can’t believe I slept for so long,” she admitted, her voice still husky. Then her nose lifted slightly, sniffing the air. “What smells good?”
He grinned. “That would be the homemade pizza dough that’s rising. I figured we’d make our own pizzas for dinner.”
Her brows lifted, surprised. “You make pizza dough, like for real?”
“Sure. Don’t sound so shocked. My mother used to do this every Friday night.” He washed his hands. “Grab an apron, you can help. You’re on topping duty.”
Her laugh was soft, but it filled the kitchen like sunlight. She stepped closer, tugged an apron from the hook, and slipped it on. “Okay, chef. What’s the plan?” she joked.
Together they rolled out dough. He guided her hands when she struggled to stretch it thin without tearing holes in it.
She swatted him playfully away when he made a crack about her “delicate technique,” which only made him grin wider.
Sauce splattered on her cheek, and when he wiped it away with a cloth, she gave him a look that made his chest tighten.
By the time the pizzas were ready to bake—pepperoni for her and loaded for him—she was laughing harder than he’d heard her laugh in weeks. He felt the tension in his chest ease as she leaned against the counter, laughing over a lopsided pepperoni smiley face she’d made on hers.
Later, with the cooked slices balanced on plates and sodas cracked open, they settled in the living room. Aaron queued up one of his favorite old movies and handed her the remote.
“ Goonies ?” She raised an eyebrow.
“A classic,” he said, settling onto the couch beside her. “Mandatory viewing for anyone under my roof.”
Before the opening credits had finished rolling, she was kissing him. Then she was straddling his hips, her mouth pressed to his as her fingers slid into his hair.
God, he was losing it. How was he supposed to not fall hard and fast for her?
As she continued to move over him, her fingers left his hair and pulled his shirt off.
He wanted to warn her that if she continued, he may not be able to let her go.
Instead, all that came out was a moan as her fingernails scraped against his skin.
His own fingers were glued to her hips as she moved over him.
“Touch me,” she whispered as she trailed her mouth against his neck.
“Are you sure?” He felt his entire body vibrating.
She pulled back and looked down at him. “Aaron, touch me.” She smiled and then kissed him again.
He wasn’t slow witted. In one quick move, he shifted their bodies until she was pinned under him, laughing. Then, as their mouths connected again, he released the buttons on her top until her new white bra was exposed.
She laughed more as she reached down and helped him pull off her shorts.
Were they moving too fast? Yes.
Was he going to stop? No. Not unless she asked him to.
She was under him in only white panties and a bra, and she reached for his shorts. He helped her remove them, falling back over her in only his boxer shorts while her hands explored every inch of him. When her fingers slipped under his shorts, he felt his eyes cross.
“You’re killing me,” he growled against her skin.
“Good. Now you know what you do to me.” She wrapped her legs around his hips. “I want you inside me.”
“Beth,” he started to argue. Somewhere beyond the fog that was his desire for her, his mind screamed that he needed to move slower.
“Aaron, don’t make me beg.” She looked up at him. “No one has ever made me feel like you do. I want…” She shook her head softly. “I need to feel it again.”
He rested his forehead on hers for a split second. “Fine, but let’s…” He started to shift, but she held him still.
“No, here, now.” She lifted up and kissed him again. He was hers at that moment. He would have given her anything. Done anything for her.
Thankfully, he was able to reach his wallet and grab a condom, and he slid it on as the rest of their clothes hit the ground. They tangled together.
When he slid into her, it was like coming home for the first time. Safe. Magical.
Hell, he’d never felt as close to anyone as he felt to her. Years of starving for that connection and here she was.
Whatever he had to do to keep her safe, he’d do.
After, when they lay on the sofa, still naked and wrapped around one another, they watched the movie together.
He pulled the thick soft blanket from the back of the sofa over them, and halfway through the movie she was fast asleep in his arms. With his body wrapped around hers, the glow from the TV lighting her face, he let himself dream of what it would be like if she stayed here, with him, forever.