Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Ariana
The drive back to the farm felt nothing like the one to Atlanta.
Henry kept my hand in his almost the entire time, his thumb brushing lazy circles across the back of it like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Like it was instinct now. Natural.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy every second of it.
I’d gotten used to the sound of the road beneath us, the soothing strains of jazz music coming from the speakers, the warmth of his palm wrapped around mine. If I could have stayed in this bubble — just the two of us, no shadows from the past, no imminent danger — I would have.
It was surreal to think it was only twenty-four hours ago that we were in this same car on our way to Atlanta.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
I wasn’t the same woman who’d left Henry’s property yesterday morning. I’d been carrying so much weight. Trauma that had burrowed deep in my marrow. Pain I’d convinced myself I deserved.
But over the past twenty-four hours, Henry had peeled it off, piece by piece, without me noticing.
He helped me let go. Of my past. Of Victor. Of everything.
He fulfilled the promise he’d made last week.
That he’d help me find the woman I was always meant to be.
And because of Henry, I was starting to do something I never thought possible.
I was learning to love myself again.
When the farmhouse finally appeared at the end of the long gravel drive, it didn’t look like the place I’d once considered a prison.
It looked like safety.
Like protection.
Like home.
Or maybe it was Henry who made me feel all those things.
He parked the SUV and stepped out, running to open my door before I could even reach for the handle. He extended his hand and I took it, allowing him to help me out, my shoes crunching against the gravel. He retrieved our bags, then steered me toward the front door.
When I walked inside, everything was exactly as I remembered. The grandfather clock in the living area. The birch beams throughout the cathedral ceiling. The smell of lemon and eucalyptus.
But it felt different. It felt…peaceful. Like this was where I belonged.
“I’ll walk you to the guest house,” Henry stated, leading me toward the great room.
“You don’t have to,” I replied. “I’m sure you’re itching to see what Blake found.”
“He can wait while I walk you to your door.” A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth.
“So you’re a gentleman now?” I teased.
“You don’t think I am?”
I paused as we approached the French doors leading outside, lifting myself onto my toes. “I could be wrong, but the things you did to me last night weren’t very gentlemanly.” I smirked. “Or this morning.”
He brushed his mouth against mine, the ghost of his kiss setting me on fire. “I didn’t hear any complaints. In fact, all I heard was you moan my name.”
“Did you not enjoy hearing me moan your name?”
He yanked me against him. “I fucking loved it, Ariana. Can’t wait to hear it again. But next time, I don’t want you to just moan my name.”
“No?” I arched a brow.
“No.” He gave me the same devilish smile that always seemed to make my heart skip a beat. “I plan on making you scream it.”
He lingered for a moment before pulling back and opening the French doors, his absence causing a chill to overwhelm me.
“Are you coming?” he glanced over his shoulder at me.
“Unfortunately not,” I retorted, walking toward him.
“Don’t worry, baby.” He placed a soft kiss on my head. “I’ll make sure you do later on.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
We made our way through the back garden, the scent of pine drifting from the woods beyond the property. Everything felt sharper somehow. Brighter. More awake. As if the world had shifted.
When we reached the guest house, I stopped and faced him, erasing the space between us.
“Thanks again for everything. I had a really good time.”
“I know.” He waggled his brows, and I playfully punched him.
“Can you get your mind out of the gutter for two seconds? I’m trying to be serious here.”
“It’s hard around you.” He gave me another mischievous smile, and it felt like my heart was ready to burst out of my chest.
I barely recognized the Henry who emerged from the shadows in the snow as the man in front of me now. I liked to think I had something to do with it. Just like he played a big part in the change in me.
“But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said, his voice shifting. “I did, too. And not because of the sex, although if I’m being honest, it was fucking incredible.” He pulled me closer. “But I liked being able to just…be with you.”
“I liked it, too.”
His lips curved into a heartwarming smile.
Then something vulnerable flickered behind his eyes.
“If you meant what you said earlier, you’re welcome to move back into the main house.
Into your old room.” He hesitated, as if gauging my reaction, before adding, “Or mine. Whatever you choose, I’d still like you in my bed tonight. ”
“I’d like that too,” I whispered.
“Good.”
He leaned in, treating me to an open-mouthed kiss that managed to break me and put me back together again. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against mine.
“You make it hard for me to let you go. I just want to forget the world exists and lose myself in you.”
“I know,” I exhaled. “But you need this.” I met his gaze. “We both do. We need closure.”
“And I’ll do everything to give it to you, Ariana.”
He kissed me again, one last lingering press of his mouth against mine.
“I’ll see you later,” he murmured.
“Can’t wait.”
I watched him walk away, admiring his broad physique, purposeful stride, the way the sun hit him. Then I turned and walked into the house.
And was instantly met with my mother’s teasing grin.
“Did you have a nice night?” she asked from her place on the couch. Cato was curled beside her, as if they’d known each other their entire lives.
He was that way with me when I first met him.
Guess he’d moved on to someone new.
Traitor.
“It was…fine.”
Mom and Cato exchanged a look so perfectly synchronized I couldn't even pretend I hadn’t noticed.
“I have a feeling that man is capable of much more than ‘fine’.”
My cheeks heated, and I tried to hide my smile, but failed miserably. I dropped beside Cato on the opposite side of the couch.
“It was amazing,” I gushed, my grin breaking free. “He was amazing. Is amazing.”
“I’m guessing you finally worked through your differences,” she teased.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Talking to her like this should have felt strange. What woman wants to talk about sex with her mother? But I’d lost so many years with her, and I wasn’t wasting another second. I’d always yearned to have a mother with whom I could have a close relationship.
Now I did.
“Tell me all about it.” She shifted on the couch, devoting her full attention to me.
So I told her all about my getaway with Henry.
Well…not everything. I left out the blindfold, the gag, the way surrendering to him had felt like reclaiming something Victor had stolen. Those details weren’t necessary.
What mattered was that Henry had given me control when I’d had none for so long. And I’d given him my trust.
By the time I finished, my mother was watching me with a softness I hadn’t seen in years.
“You’re glowing,” she said.
“I’m happy,” I remarked, unable to hide my disbelief. “I mean, I know he’s older, and I probably shouldn’t want anything to do with him because of how we met—”
“Stop letting your head get in the way, Ari.” She reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like she used to when I was little.
“Too many people spend their whole lives fixated on all the reasons something is a bad idea. And in the process, they talk themselves out of what could be the best thing to happen to them. Remember the color you saw when you thought about Henry?”
“Green,” I exhaled.
“The color of hope. Of rebirth. You may not want to admit it, and granted my memory is still a bit foggy. But in just the past few weeks, I’ve seen a change in you.
He tended to you like you tended to your garden when you were a child.
He learned what you needed and gave that to you.
If you ask me, that’s what’s important. Nothing else.
Not age. Not circumstance. Just that he understands your needs and can meet them. ”
A warm feeling swelled in my chest. An emotion I’d learned to suppress years ago.
But whenever I thought of Henry, it was there.
At first, it was subtle, but over the past few weeks, it had grown stronger and stronger to the point where I could no longer ignore it.
Maybe it wouldn’t last.
Maybe life was about to shift again in ways I couldn’t predict or control.
But right now?
I could breathe.
I could hope.
That was all I cared about.