Chapter 4 - Elena
I follow Aaron and his brother down the hallway, still surprised by the past two hours. I can't believe I talked so much—I, who am usually so measured with my words, who carefully considers each sentence before speaking.
Yet with Aaron, the conversation flowed naturally, words spilling out of me as if we'd known each other for years rather than through a handful of video calls.
More surprising still was how he opened up to me. The stoic, reserved man from our online conversations transformed in that bedroom, revealing layers of himself I hadn't expected to see so soon. His PTSD, his struggles with civilian life, the weight of his military service—these were merely hinted at in our previous communications, but now I can see how deeply they run.
He's suffering, more than I realized. Behind the strong, capable exterior is a man still fighting battles long after leaving the battlefield.
The thought creates a protective feeling I wasn't prepared for. As we step outside into the golden afternoon light, I watch Aaron walking slightly ahead of me, his shoulders squared in that military posture that seems to be second nature to him now. There's a tension in him that never fully dissipates, as if he's always on alert, always ready.
This is the man I've agreed to potentially marry. The thought should terrify me, but strangely, it doesn't. Perhaps because we've been honest from the start about what this is—an arrangement, a contract of sorts. As unromantic as it sounds, there's comfort in the clarity.
As his mail order bride—the term still feels odd in my mind—I have a responsibility to him, just as he has to me. We've agreed to support each other, to try to build something meaningful together. It's transactional in the most basic sense, but that doesn't mean feelings can't grow within that framework.
"Here we are," Vincent announces as we approach a smaller barn separate from the main structure. "The nursery barn, where we keep the mares and foals."
Inside, the air is warm and smells of hay and horses. A woman with curly hair is standing by one of the stalls, Lily perched on her hip.
"Charlotte," Vincent says, his voice softening noticeably, "this is Elena, Aaron's friend who's visiting."
Charlotte turns, her face open and friendly, and I immediately sense an ally. "Hi there! Welcome to the chaos."
"Thank you," I reply, grateful for her warm smile. "It's lovely to meet you."
"Elena's from Spain," Lily announces importantly. "And she likes horses and dogs."
"A woman of excellent taste," Charlotte says with a wink at me. "Come see what we've been admiring."
She leads us to a stall where a chestnut mare stands protectively over a wobbly-legged foal that can't be more than a few days old. The foal is bay colored with a perfect white star on its forehead.
"Oh," I breathe, unable to help myself. "It's beautiful."
Aaron moves to stand beside me. "This is Duchess and her new filly. Still unnamed."
"She needs a princess name," Lily declares. "Because her mommy is a Duchess."
"What do you think, Elena?" Aaron asks, surprising me by seeking my opinion.
I consider the delicate foal, who looks at us with curious, liquid eyes. "Something regal, certainly." I think for a moment. "Perhaps Stella? It means star in Latin."
"Stella," Aaron repeats, testing the name. "I like it."
"Stella the princess horse!" Lily claps her hands in approval.
I catch Charlotte watching us with interest, her eyes moving between Aaron and me with a speculative expression.
"How long have you two known each other?" she asks casually—too casually.
Aaron tenses slightly beside me. "We met online a while back," he says, sticking to our story. "Through mutual connections."
Charlotte nods, but I can tell she's not entirely convinced. Still, she doesn't press further, which makes me wonder if Vincent has said something to her.
As Lily chatters about the other horses, Aaron leans closer to me. "You okay?" he asks quietly. "It's a lot, meeting everyone at once."
The concern in his voice touches me. "I'm fine," I assure him. "Your family is... welcoming, in their own way."
He huffs a laugh. "That's one word for the Covington inquisition."
We move through the barn, Vincent proudly showing me their prize horses while Charlotte keeps Lily from getting too close to the more temperamental animals. I notice how Vincent's hand constantly finds Charlotte's—on her shoulder, at her waist, entwining their fingers. The ease between them speaks of a comfort that comes with genuine connection.
Is that what Aaron wants from our arrangement? That kind of natural togetherness? Is it what I want?
This is barely the beginning of our three-month agreement, yet I already feel the weight of what we're attempting. We're trying to manufacture in weeks what most couples develop over years—trust, understanding, compatibility. The odds seem impossible when stated plainly.
Yet watching Aaron now, seeing how he straightens when a loud bang from outside causes him to flinch slightly, how he covers it by immediately checking the stall latch as if that was his intention all along, I feel a renewed determination. This man deserves someone who understands his battles, who won't flinch at his scars, visible or otherwise.
I don't know if I'm that person, not yet. But I want to try.
As we exit the barn into the late afternoon sunlight, Aaron falls into step beside me.
"Dinner might be another family affair," he warns quietly. "But I can make excuses if you need some time alone."
I consider this for a moment. The prospect of another meal fielding questions from five curious brothers is slightly overwhelming, especially after such an emotionally draining day.
"Actually," I say, "would it be possible for us to have dinner in town? I've never been to Cedar Falls, and I'd love to see it. Something a bit calmer than lunch might be nice."
Relief flashes across his face. "That's a great idea. There's a decent steakhouse on Main Street, nothing fancy but the food is good. Let me just give my brothers a heads up so they're not waiting on us."
"I'll be ready whenever you are," I tell him as we approach the main house.
Aaron nods and heads inside, leaving me to take in the sprawling ranch property bathed in late afternoon light. The landscape is vastly different from anywhere I've lived—open and expansive, with rolling hills that stretch to the horizon. It's beautiful in its wildness, much like the man I've agreed to potentially marry.
"It's something, isn't it?" a voice says behind me.
I turn to find Charlotte approaching, her hair catching the sunlight. She's alone now, Vincent and Lily presumably having gone inside.
"It's breathtaking," I admit. "So much space."
Charlotte smiles, coming to stand beside me.
"I felt the same way when I first arrived. I'm from Chicago originally—city girl through and through. The openness was almost intimidating." She hesitates, then continues, "I hope you don't mind, but I overheard you and Aaron talking about dinner in town. I just wanted to apologize if the Covington family comes on a bit strong. They can be overwhelming at first, but they're all fantastic people once you get to know them."
I'm not sure how to respond, uncertain how much she knows or suspects about my situation.
"They seem very close," I say carefully.
Charlotte nods. "They are. Fiercely loyal to each other. It took time for them to trust me when I first came to be Lily's nanny. Vincent was so protective, and his brothers even more so. But once they let you in..." She smiles warmly. "Well, there's nothing like having the Covington Cowboys in your corner."
There's something knowing in her expression that makes me wonder if she's guessed more than she's letting on.
"I'm not sure they're convinced I'm just Aaron's friend," I admit, testing the waters.
Charlotte laughs softly. "The Covingtons aren't exactly subtle when they're suspicious. But don't worry—they'll come around. They just want Aaron to be happy." She pauses. "He's been through a lot."
"I know," I say quietly, perhaps revealing more than I should.
Charlotte gives me a thoughtful look. "You care about him."
It's not a question, and I find myself unable to deflect. "I do, yes."
"Good," she says simply. "He deserves that."
Before I can respond, she continues, "Whatever brought you here—and I'm not asking for details—just know that it gets easier. I was an outsider too, remember? Now I can't imagine being anywhere else."
Her words offer more comfort than she probably realizes. "Thank you, Charlotte."
"For what it's worth," she adds with a gentle smile, "I think you're good for him. I haven't seen Aaron talk this much since I've known him."
The door opens and Aaron emerges, now wearing a clean button-down shirt and jeans. He's even combed his hair.
"Ready when you are," he calls, then notices Charlotte. "Everything okay?"
"Just girl talk," Charlotte says lightly. "I was telling Elena about the best places to shop in Cedar Falls, which will take approximately three minutes to cover."
Aaron laughs, a rugged sound that transforms his serious face. "That's generous. More like ninety seconds."
"Enjoy your dinner," Charlotte says, giving me a subtle wink before heading back toward the house. "Don't rush back on account of the inquisition squad."
As she walks away, Aaron comes to stand beside me. "What was that about?"
"She was just being welcoming," I say, not wanting to divulge our entire conversation. "I think she understands what it's like to be new here."
He nods, seeming relieved. "Charlotte's good people. She was the first person outside the family Vincent trusted with Lily after his ex left."
This piques my interest. "Lily's mother left?"
Aaron's expression darkens slightly. "When Lily was four. Decided motherhood and ranch life weren't for her after all. Moved to the city, sends birthday cards sometimes."
The hurt in his voice isn't for himself, I realize, but for his niece and brother. This family's bonds run deep, forged through shared pain and loyalty.
"Shall we go?" he asks, gesturing toward a black pickup truck parked nearby.
As we drive toward town, I watch the landscape roll by, processing everything from this extraordinary day. I came here prepared for awkwardness, for a clinical attempt at building a partnership. I wasn't ready for the emotional complexity of Aaron Covington, or for how quickly I would find myself caring about his well-being.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Aaron asks, glancing briefly away from the road.
"I'm just... taking it all in," I reply honestly. "It's been quite a day."
He grimaces slightly. "Not exactly the smooth introduction I had planned. I'm sorry about that."
"Don't be," I tell him. "Meeting your family helps me understand you better."
"That's a terrifying thought," he says, but there's humor in his voice.
"They love you," I observe. "That speaks well of you."
Aaron seems embarrassed by this, shifting slightly in his seat. “They're overprotective, that's what they are.”
"Because they've seen you hurting," I say softly. "And they couldn't fix it."
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "I don't need fixing."
"That's not what I meant," I clarify. "Some things can't be fixed. They can only be carried. Your family wants to help carry your burdens, but they don't know how."
Aaron is quiet for so long I worry I've overstepped. Finally, he says, "You're pretty perceptive for someone who's known us less than a day."
"I'm a good observer," I reply. "It comes with being naturally quiet."
"Except today," he points out. "You weren't so quiet with me earlier."
I feel a blush warming my cheeks. "No, I wasn't. That's... unusual for me."
"I liked it," he says simply.
The admission hangs between us as we enter the small town of Cedar Falls. It's charming in the way small American towns often are in films—a main street lined with local businesses, American flags hanging from lampposts, people greeting each other by name as they walk down the sidewalk.
As Aaron parks in front of a restaurant with a wooden sign reading "The Broken Spoke Steakhouse," I'm struck by the strangeness of my situation. Twenty-four hours ago, I was on a plane, wondering if I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Now I'm here, in this picturesque town, with this complicated man who might someday be my husband.
"Ready?" Aaron asks, turning off the engine.
"Ready," I reply, and I'm surprised to find I genuinely mean it.