Chapter 34
An hour later, I’m standing on Aiden’s porch with a bottle of wine in hand and Neptune by my side, his tail swaying back and forth, excited to spend time with his best friend.
The evening air feels softer than it did earlier, the sky shifting toward a deep blue that only happens right before sunset, and for a second, I stand there listening to the faint sound of the ocean before I knock.
The door opens almost immediately.
Aiden’s smile—wide, easy, his eyes softening as soon as they land on me—hits me first. Then I notice everything else at once.
Faded jeans, a light blue T-shirt stretched comfortably across his shoulders, a kitchen towel hangs over one shoulder, and something about how effortlessly domestic he looks feels ridiculously sexy.
He looks unfairly attractive standing there, relaxed and comfortable, and I have to remind myself to keep my face neutral.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
Heat rushes up my neck, spreading fast enough that I know it’s visible.
I suddenly become very aware of what I’m wearing—the long green maxi, the beige cardigan I almost didn’t bring, the extra time I spent in front of the mirror before I left, fixing my mascara and smoothing on one last layer of lip gloss.
“Thanks,” I manage.
Neptune decides for both of us, slipping past Aiden and into the house like he owns the place, and Aiden steps aside with a soft laugh.
“Please, come in.”
I walk inside, automatically glancing toward the living room, expecting to see Uncle Mike in his usual chair near the window, the TV humming quietly in the background, but the room is empty.
“He went out,” Aiden says, catching my look. “Bingo night at the senior home. I’m picking him up later.”
I smile. “Good for him.”
Aiden takes the wine from my hand, then gestures toward the back of the house. I follow him through the kitchen, Neptune already making himself comfortable with Skye.
The back door slides open, and cool evening air wraps around me as I step outside.
A small fire crackles in a low pit, warm light flickering against the deck.
Two chairs with thick cushions are arranged around it, blankets folded neatly over the arms, and beyond it all the ocean stretches out, darkening slowly as the sun sinks lower, the sound of waves steady and endless in the background.
For a moment, I stand there taking it in.
Aiden moves past me toward the side wall, plugging something in, and a second later, soft twinkling lights blink on overhead, casting a warm glow across the space that makes everything feel quieter, softer.
“Oh wow,” I say, turning slowly. “I hadn’t seen these.”
“I installed them today.”
I look at him, surprised. “Today?”
The question slips out, confusion mixing with something warmer I’m not ready to name. I don’t ask if he did it for me — I’m not sure I want to know the answer if it’s yes.
He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck for a second before meeting my eyes again.
“I was hoping you’d agree to have dinner with me.”
The words settle between us, simple and steady, the fire crackling softly in the background while the lights glow above us and the ocean moves endlessly just beyond the railing.
And for a moment, everything feels very still.
I’m standing in the kitchen with a glass of wine in my hand, watching Aiden roll perfect balls of cookie dough between his palms before setting them neatly onto a baking sheet. I watch him intently as he measures the space between each one with quiet focus. Somehow, even this feels intentional.
Dinner was really good. Salmon on the grill outside, vegetables roasted until they were just soft enough, everything simple but thoughtful in a way that makes me realize how much attention he gives to whatever is in front of him.
It catches me off guard every time, watching him move through simple things like they matter.
We’ve been talking most of the evening, conversation flowing easily between sips of wine and bites of dinner.
I tell him about work, about the unexpected blue whales we spotted earlier in the week, and how the whole team stood frozen for a second because none of us were expecting them this early in the season.
He listens the way he always does — focused, like what I’m saying matters — asking questions that make me laugh because he actually remembers details I mentioned weeks ago.
When it’s his turn, he talks about work too.
About calls coming in nonstop, firefighters being sent out to help with wildfires across Oregon and Washington, which means those staying local are stretched thin, covering everything from accidents to emergency calls in nearby towns.
He says it calmly, matter-of-fact, but I can see the tiredness sitting just under the surface.
“There was a cat today,” he says, lining up the last cookie on the tray. “Climbed so high we had to bring the ladder truck out.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
“Wouldn’t come down for anyone else.” He shrugs. “The owner was crying, and the darn thing looked proud of himself the whole time.”
I shake my head, smiling into my glass as he slides the tray into the oven and sets the timer. The soft beep fills the kitchen before he turns toward me.
“By the way,” he says casually, “we got a package from June today.”
I blink, surprised. I knew June promised Uncle Mike a jersey from his favorite player, but I assumed she’d send it to me first, not straight here.
“Wait — really?”
He notices my expression and smiles slightly. “Come on. Let me show you.”
He gestures toward the stairs.
I follow him, suddenly aware that in all the time I’ve spent here, I’ve never actually gone upstairs. The realization hits me halfway up, and I feel strangely like a teenager again, stepping into a space that feels more personal than anywhere else I’ve seen in his house.
He walks down a narrow hallway and opens the second door on the left.
I step inside behind him and pause.
The room is neat and calm, with everything in its place.
A large bed sits centered against the wall, sheets pulled tight, nothing out of order.
A desk with a computer faces a window that looks directly toward my house, and I fight the urge to glance back and figure out exactly which part of my home he sees from here.
Across from the bed, two large windows frame the ocean, dark now except for the soft reflection of the twinkling lights from the backyard.
It feels… very him. Quiet. Ordered. Comfortable.
He switches on a bedside lamp and disappears briefly into the closet while I stand there taking it all in, trying not to look too curious. A moment later, he walks back out carrying a large brown box and sets it down on the bed.
“Here,” he says.
I move closer as he opens it.
Inside is chaos in the best way—a signed soccer ball, hats, scarves, team towels, bracelets, stickers, more Strikers gear than I thought one box could hold. Uncle Mike is going to lose his mind.
I laugh softly, sorting through everything while Aiden watches, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe the amount of stuff either.
“She went all out,” I say.
“She did.” He smiles. “There were two jerseys too. I’m guessing one for each of us, but Uncle Mike decided he needed to show them off tonight and took them with him to bingo.”
I laugh at that, picturing it instantly.
As I shift a scarf aside, a small note catches my eye, tucked between the items.
Uncle Mike, make sure he seals the deal ;) — June.
Heat creeps up my neck. I pretend I haven’t seen it and casually shove it back into the box before he notices.
The oven timer beeps downstairs.
Aiden looks toward the door, then back at me, amused.
“Come on,” he says, reaching out and taking my hand. His fingers are warm, steady. “Warm cookies are waiting for us.”
And without any doubt, I follow.
Aiden slides the cookies out of the oven and sets the tray on the counter, the smell instantly filling the kitchen. The chocolate chips glisten on top, melted and soft, the edges just barely golden.
“They need to cool on the counter for a few minutes,” he says, reaching for a small container and sprinkling flaky Celtic salt over the tops. “Unfortunately.”
I lean closer, already hovering. “I love undercooked cookies. Can we have one now?”
He glances at me, smiling. “You can have them all right now if you want.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Share one with me?”
“Of course.”
I pick the one that looks the softest, lifting it carefully before the heat seeps into my fingertips. It bends easily when I pull it apart, steam escaping from the center, the chocolate stretching slightly before melting back into itself. The inside is soft and chewy, almost too warm to hold.
I hand him half, and he takes it with an easy smile.
The first bite practically melts on my tongue. Warm, buttery, and sweet, with a faint crunch of salt on top. I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy it, and when I open them again, he’s watching me, amused.
“Good?” he asks.
I laugh softly. “Dangerously good.”
The warmth of the kitchen starts to feel almost too cozy, so I carry the rest of my cookie toward the back door, slide it open, and check on the dogs.
Neptune and Skye are rolling around in the grass, chasing each other in chaotic circles, tails flying, completely lost in their own world. The air outside is cooler now, the fire still glowing low, and the ocean stretches beyond the yard, the low rhythm of the waves carrying through the night air.
I stop near the edge of the patio, watching them play, a quiet sense of peace settling over me.
Aiden steps outside a moment later, standing beside me. His body is close enough that I can feel the warmth coming off him.
We watch the dogs together, the comfortable silence stretching between us, easy and unforced.
Without really thinking about it, I reach for his hand, and his fingers close around mine right away, warm and familiar.
I look down at where our hands fit together, surprised by how natural it feels, how easily the moment settles between us.
When I glance up, I find him watching our hands too, his gaze lifting slowly until our eyes meet, his grip gentle and unhurried.
He raises our joined hands slightly, turns toward me, and kisses my wrist. The brush of his lips against my skin sends a slow rush of warmth through me. The air feels quieter somehow, the space between us shrinking until I’m aware of nothing except him standing there, steady and close.
Our eyes stay locked, and I let myself feel the moment. My free hand slides to the back of his neck, gently guiding him down toward me before I finally kiss him.