Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
W aking up naked in Aaron’s arms was, well, heaven. For one blissful moment, she forgot about the fire, the ashes, the insurance calls. Forgot about everything except the solid warmth of his chest under her cheek, the steady beat of his heart against her ear.
Then reality crept in. Her clothes, what little there had been, were scattered across the living room floor. The TV screen glowed faintly blue since the movie had ended hours before. She could just see the faint sunlight as dawn broke outside the large windows.
She stirred, stretching against him. His arm tightened briefly around her waist, then loosened as he pressed a kiss into her hair.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice still husky with sleep.
Her lips curved and she relaxed for one more moment. “Morning.”
Reluctantly, she shifted away from him and reached for her bra where it had landed near the end of the sofa. “I’m starved and need a shower.” She laughed as she pulled on the rest of her clothes.
“I’ll cook, you shower,” he said, sitting up.
She took a quick moment to appreciate just how handsome he was. Toned, narrow hips, strong arms. He had a runner’s body, unlike the boxier build Ian had.
They dressed quietly, stealing little smiles as they tugged on clothes. She pulled her hair into a messy bun and, after another quick kiss, padded upstairs, leaving him to fuss in the kitchen.
The bathroom sat between the two guest rooms, both hers now, she supposed. One was set up as a small office, and she had set her new laptop on the desk and planned to request new credit cards and IDs later that day.
When she stepped into the bathroom, Beth stopped in her tracks, her gaze sweeping the space as she took it in. Her old apartment bathroom had been barely half this size, cramped and shadowy compared to the light and warmth of this one.
The white tile gleamed as if it had just been polished, catching the glow from the frosted glass shower doors. Thick, soft rugs in a calming shade of green were laid out in front of the shower and the wide sink cabinet, inviting her bare feet to sink into them.
It felt like something pulled straight from a home improvement show—thoughtful, polished, and quietly luxurious.
To the side of the sink, on a long wall, sat a wooden shelf that held neatly rolled towels that carried the faint, comforting scent of cedar and fresh laundry.
A small vase of wildflowers sat on the counter, their colors brightening the space.
The little touch made her throat tighten unexpectedly, as if Aaron had thought of her before she’d ever stepped foot inside.
She turned on the shower, and steam filled the air as she stripped down again.
The hot water cascaded over her bruised shoulders, her aching muscles, and she braced her hands against the cool tile, letting herself breathe.
The night before had been… everything. Too fast, maybe.
Too reckless. And yet her chest warmed just remembering the way he had touched her, the way he had looked at her like she was something precious instead of broken.
When she finally stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in an oversized towel, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
Damp hair clung to her face and there was a faint flush to her skin, the marks of exhaustion softening just slightly.
Her bruises had turned yellow and green now, and her scratches were better.
For the first time in days, she didn’t look entirely lost.
The smell of bacon drifted up the stairs. Her stomach growled. She pulled on some of her new clothes, a pair of army green shorts and a white tank top, and padded back down to the kitchen.
Aaron was at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping golden pancakes onto a plate already stacked high. Beside them, strips of bacon sizzled and popped. A bowl of whipped cream sat on the counter, along with a small jar of blueberry preserves.
Beth leaned against the doorway, smiling despite herself. “You’re showing off.”
He glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “Damn right I am, just for you.” He winked. “Blueberry pancakes with my great-grandmother’s recipe. They are the best in three counties.”
She laughed and walked in, slipping into a chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever had pancakes that come with their own toppings bar.”
“Get ready,” he said, sliding a plate in front of her piled with pancakes, bacon on the side. He dolloped whipped cream and blueberries on top with exaggerated flair, like a waiter in a fancy restaurant. “Breakfast à la Aaron.”
She picked up her fork, shaking her head. “If you keep this up, I may never leave.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her chest tightened, but Aaron only looked at her a moment longer than necessary before chuckling softly.
“That’s the plan,” he said.
Beth’s heart soared as she lowered her gaze to her pancakes, trying to hide the emotions that were tugging at her heart.
They ate together at the table. The morning sunlight spilled through the wide kitchen windows and caught Aaron’s hair, making his smile look almost too easy.
She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d sat down to a meal that wasn’t grabbed on the go, microwaved, or eaten out of a takeout box.
“These are unfair,” she said around a bite of pancake, pointing her fork at him. “Now I’ll never be able to eat diner pancakes again without being disappointed.”
Aaron chuckled, sipping his coffee. “I’ll add that to my résumé. Destroyer of diner breakfasts.”
The laughter that followed warmed something deep inside her, easing the ache that never seemed to leave her chest. They lingered over coffee until the plates were mostly empty, then stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, rinsing dishes and passing them back and forth.
He washed while she dried, their elbows bumping now and then.
Every time she glanced up, he was already looking at her, smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It felt… dangerously good. Like slipping into a rhythm she hadn’t even known she wanted.
Once the counters were wiped down and the kitchen restored, Beth hesitated, fiddling with the edge of her tank top. “Hey, could you maybe help me with my laptop? I need to, you know, get my digital life back in order.”
“Of course.” He didn’t even pause, just motioned for her to lead the way.
They went upstairs into the room she’d claimed as an office. The desk was neat except for the unopened laptop, still sitting where she’d left it in its box.
For the next hour, Aaron helped her set it up. There were updates, passwords to set up, software to install. His long fingers moving confidently over the keyboard as the system booted up after the last install. She perched beside him on the chair, close enough that his knee brushed hers.
Her heart beat faster, not from nerves over the machine, but from the simple closeness.
Finally, the machine was ready to use and he sat back while, one by one, she tackled the to-do list she’d been dreading.
First up, she requested replacement credit cards from each of her banks and filled out address change forms for all of her accounts.
Next, she applied for a duplicate driver’s license from the state, thankful that they had an online form and would mail it to her in the coming days.
Each task seemed so daunting on its own, but as she checked another one off, she started to feel like she was taking back tiny pieces of her life.
When the final confirmation screen popped up, she sagged back into the chair with a sigh. “That is a start to getting my life back.”
Aaron nudged her shoulder with his. “It’s progress.”
Beth looked at him, really looked at him—the way his eyes softened when they met hers, the way he seemed completely unbothered by the mess of her life bleeding into his. And for the first time since the fire, she let herself believe maybe she wasn’t as lost as she’d thought.
“Since you helped me, can I help you outside with the animals?”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
She nodded. “I could use the fresh air.”
Aaron gave her one of those quiet, patient smiles, the kind that didn’t push but left the choice in her hands.
“Sure. You might want to change into those new boots you got.” He motioned to her bare feet.
“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” She jumped up and headed into her bedroom.
She met him downstairs in a pair of jean shorts and a short-sleeved checkered shirt, along with a new pair of socks and her new climbing boots. He led her out the back door, across the wide porch, and down towards the barn.
She noticed how he moved with practiced ease, grabbing buckets, turning on the pump, filling water troughs until they bubbled over.
Beth trailed after him, taking in the neat rows of fencing, the chickens scratching in their pen, the group of horses that lifted their heads curiously as the two of them approached.
“Want to pour the grain?” he asked, holding out a scoop.
She hesitated, then took it, surprised at the satisfying weight in her hand. The horses nosed closer as if they could already smell the oats. She laughed, a soft, startled sound, as their warm breath brushed her wrist while she dumped the grain into the trough.
“They like you,” Aaron said matter-of-factly, but his eyes lingered on her longer than they did on the horses.
Her chest tightened, but not with the usual fear. It was something lighter. Tentative. A flicker of belonging.
When they’d finished, Aaron hooked the empty buckets and carried them with one hand as though they weighed nothing.
Beth followed him back towards the porch, brushing a stray piece of hay from her shirt.
The fire and the chaos it had left behind felt distant here, muted by the ordinary rhythm of his life.
She didn’t want to go back inside just yet, so they sat under the porch on a swing until her stomach growled loudly.
“Hungry?” he asked.