Chapter 11
Aria woke slowly, the way someone did when sleep hadn't been deep enough to truly rest but just enough to quiet the mind for a few hours.
Morning light spilled through the bedroom window in soft stripes across the floor. The house was quiet.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
Her mind tried to move toward everything that had happened at the hospital, toward Will, toward Chase, but she pushed the thoughts away before they could settle.
Not today.
Today, she needed something else.
Normal.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the cool wood floor grounding her as she stood.
The house smelled faintly of the vanilla candle she'd left burning the night before.
Routine. Familiar.
She moved toward the closet, sliding the door open with a quiet scrape.
Her scrubs hung neatly on the right side, pressed and ready for another shift. Pale blue, exactly where she always kept them, so mornings didn't require any thought.
But her eyes drifted left.
Chase's side.
The clothes hadn't moved in five years.
T-shirts folded the way he liked them. His old hoodies are stacked on the shelf. A few jackets still hanging from the rod, one sleeve slightly twisted like he'd taken it off in a hurry the last time he wore it.
Aria reached toward her scrubs automatically.
Then stopped.
Her hand hovered there for a moment before drifting in the other direction.
Her fingers brushed against one of his sweatshirts.
It was soft from years of washing, the dark gray fabric worn thin in places. The collar still carried the faintest hint of cologne.
She pulled it off the hanger.
The sweatshirt swallowed her the moment she pulled it over her head. The hem fell nearly to her knees, the sleeves so long they hung past her hands until she pushed them back.
For a moment, she just stood there.
Then she wrapped her arms around herself.
The fabric was warm against her skin, the weight of it grounding.
She closed her eyes.
Just for a second.
Not grieving.
Not remembering.
Just holding onto the quiet comfort of something familiar.
Eventually, she exhaled softly and let her arms fall.
"Okay," she murmured to the empty room.
She moved toward the kitchen.
The house creaked softly beneath her steps, the same old sounds it had always made in the mornings. Outside the window, the sky was brightening into a pale Tennessee blue.
She filled the coffee pot, her movements automatic.
Water.
Grounds.
The familiar hum of the machine as it begins to brew.
While it worked, she leaned her hip against the counter and reached for her phone.
Her thumb hovered over the hospital number for a moment before she pressed call.
The line rang twice.
"Memorial," the receptionist answered.
"Hey, it's Aria."
"Aria! I was wondering if we'd see you today."
Aria smiled faintly.
"Not today."
"Everything okay?"
She glanced toward the window, watching the sunlight creep across the porch.
"With everything going on," she said gently, "I think I'm going to take a week off."
There was a pause.
Then the receptionist's voice softened.
"Of course you are."
Aria exhaled quietly.
"Thank you."
"Take all the time you need."
The call ended, and for the first time in a long while, Aria felt the strange relief of having nowhere she needed to be.
The coffee finished brewing.
She poured a mug and stepped outside onto the porch.
The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp grass and pine.
She lowered herself into one of the Adirondack chairs Chase had built during the first summer they'd lived here.
Her legs curled up beneath her automatically, the oversized sweatshirt pooling around her like a blanket.
She took a slow sip of coffee.
For a moment, everything was quiet.
Peaceful.
Then the low rumble of a truck engine broke the silence.
Aria looked up just as Parker's pickup rolled into the driveway.
She blinked in surprise.
The truck bed held a massive cardboard box.
Parker climbed out of the driver's seat while another man she had never met jumped down from the passenger side.
Parker spotted her and lifted a hand in greeting.
"Mornin', Sunshine."
Aria raised an eyebrow.
"It's barely seven."
"Exactly," Parker said. "Prime construction hours."
The other man grinned as he walked toward the back of the truck.
Aria set her coffee down slowly.
"What's in the box?"
Parker glanced at the truck bed like it was obvious.
"The swing."
She blinked.
Right.
The porch swing.
She had ordered it weeks ago.
Before everything.
Before Will came back.
Before the hospital.
For a moment, her chest tightened.
The image of Chase pushing that swing gently while she lay on it, reading, flickered across her mind.
Her gaze drifted toward the space on the porch where it was meant to hang.
Maybe it wasn't worth it anymore.
Maybe the idea had belonged to a life that didn't exist anymore.
She opened her mouth to say something.
To tell them they could take it back.
But Parker was already hauling the box down from the truck.
"Good news," he said. "I assembled most of it last night."
Aria frowned slightly.
"You assembled my swing?"
"Relax," he said. "I like building things."
The other man chuckled.
"He actually does."
Aria hesitated again.
Part of her wanted to tell them to stop.
To take the swing with them.
Because what was the point now?
But another part of her, the quieter, stubborn part, still loved the idea of it.
A place to stretch out.
Read books.
Listen to the wind.
She sighed softly.
"Let me go get dressed," she said finally.
Parker glanced down at the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing.
"Pretty sure that counts."
She rolled her eyes.
"I mean actual pants."
"Fair enough."
She grabbed her coffee and stepped back inside.
The house felt warmer now.
She moved through the kitchen toward the hallway, her bare feet quiet against the floor.
In the bedroom, she pulled open the dresser and grabbed a pair of Chase's old lounge pants.
They were too long, of course.
Everything of his was.
But they were comfortable.
She pulled them on and adjusted the waistband.
Her reflection in the mirror made her pause.
Chase's sweatshirt.
Chase's pants.
Her hair a mess.
She almost laughed.
"Fashion icon," she muttered.
Back in the kitchen, she poured herself another cup of coffee.
The sound of tools clinking against the porch ceiling drifted in through the open door.
Parker must have already started installing the chains.
She turned toward the doorway.
And walked directly into someone.
Coffee sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the mug.
"Oh!"
The other man had stepped inside without her noticing.
They both froze for a second, inches apart.
"Sorry," he said quickly, steadying the mug before it spilled.
Aria blinked up at him.
"No, that was my fault."
He smiled awkwardly.
"Parker sent me in to grab a wrench."
She glanced down at the tool in his hand.
"You already have one."
"Yeah," he admitted. "But this is not the one he needs, and he was too lazy to walk in here where he said he left his tools and get the one he needed, so he sent me.
Aria laughed softly despite herself.
"That sounds like Parker."
Outside, Parker's voice called through the doorway.
"You alive in there?"
Aria shook her head, smiling faintly.
"Barely."
The man stepped back, giving her space.
"Sorry about that."
"No harm done."
She took another sip of coffee and glanced toward the porch.
The sound of Parker moving around outside on the porch drifted in through the open doorway, metal chains clinking softly as he worked. The steady rhythm of tools almost lulled her into a peaceful daze.
Then the man standing in her kitchen cleared his throat.
Aria turned back toward him.
Up close, she could see he did'nt seem like the other guys she had seen with Parker before. No military posture. No clipped movements. No unit insignia tattoos.
He looked more... normal.
Jeans. Work boots. A flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves.
He watched her for a moment with mild curiosity before asking a question that made her blink.
"So... are you married?"
The words hung between them.
For half a second, she just stared at him, confused.
Then realization dawned.
He didn't know.
Parker clearly hadn't filled him in.
This man probably thought the situation was something completely different.
Maybe he thought Parker and Aria were together.
Maybe he thought she was just some girl Parker was helping out.
The thought almost made her laugh.
She leaned her hip against the counter, holding the coffee mug between both hands.
"No," she said simply.
Then she added with a small, crooked smile,
"I'm a widow."
The man's expression changed immediately.
Not shock exactly.
But recognition.
And a hint of awkward embarrassment.
"Oh."
He shifted the wrench in his palm, clearly realizing he'd stepped into something bigger than a casual morning conversation.
"That's... probably a long story."
Aria smirked faintly.
"That's one way to put it."
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the door as if he might excuse himself.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"It's fine," she interrupted gently.
He hesitated.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
She took another sip of coffee before continuing.
"You've probably already heard the story anyway."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe."
"My husband was a soldier," she said. "His convoy was attacked overseas five years ago. They believed he was killed."
The man's face softened slightly.
"So they buried him."
"Yeah."
She shrugged lightly.
"But turns out they were wrong."
He blinked.
"What?"
"He survived."
The words still felt strange when she said them out loud.
"He was captured," she continued. "Escaped somehow. Ended up halfway across the world with no memory of who he was."
The man stared at her.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"And now he's back," she said quietly, "trying to figure out who he used to be."
For a moment, he just stood there absorbing that.
Then his eyebrows lifted.
"Wait."
He shook his head in amazement.
"You're that widow."
Aria sighed.
"Yep."
"The one everyone's been talking about."
"Also, yes."
He shook his head slowly, almost impressed.
"Wow."
She raised an eyebrow.
"That good of a wow?"
"I mean..." he shrugged. "You've been the talk of the town for weeks."
She smirked.
"Trust me, I'm aware."
He studied her for a second before something in his expression changed.
His voice softened.
"That must suck."
Aria blinked.
"What?"
He gestured vaguely toward the window.
"Everyone knows your business like that."
She didn't answer right away.
He continued quietly.
"Going through something that painful and having the whole town watch it unfold like some kind of reality show."
Aria looked down at her coffee mug.
Then she gave a small, crooked smile.
"Thanks for understanding."
He shrugged.
"My family's been here forever. Small towns don't know how to mind their own business."
That made her laugh softly.
"Fair."
Outside, Parker's voice carried through the door.
"You find that wrench, or did you fall into a time portal in there?"
The man rolled his eyes slightly.
"Got it!"
He tapped the tool against his palm and started toward the door.
But halfway there, he stopped again.
Something crossed his mind.
He turned back around slowly.
Aria looked up at him.
"What?"
He studied her for a moment like he was making a decision.
Then he asked,
"Would you go on a date with a guy who knows absolutely nothing about you... and until about ten minutes ago didn't even realize you had a past?"
Aria blinked.
"That's a very specific question."
He grinned slightly.
"Hypothetical."
"Is it?"
"No."
She stared at him.
"You're asking me on a date."
"Yes."
"You don't know anything about me."
"Correct."
"You literally just learned my husband came back from the dead."
"Technically, he didn't die," he said.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Semantics."
"Fair."
She shook her head slowly, amused despite herself.
"This might be the strangest pickup line I've ever heard."
He laughed.
"I figured honesty was the safest route."
"Why me?"
That question slipped out before she could stop it.
He answered immediately.
"You seem interesting, and you are out of this world gorgeous."
"That's not a good enough reason to date someone."
"It's a great reason," he argued. "Most people date for way worse reasons."
"Like?"
"Boredom. Loneliness. Bad judgment."
She smiled slightly.
"Fair point."
He leaned casually against the doorframe.
"Look, I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm asking if you'd like to have dinner with someone who didn't know your whole life story until five minutes ago."
Aria studied him carefully.
"What's your name?"
He blinked.
"Oh. Right."
He extended a hand.
"Ethan."
She shook it.
"Aria."
"I know."
"Of course you do."
He chuckled.
"Perks of small-town gossip."
She leaned back against the counter again.
"I'm not exactly in the best emotional place for dating."
Ethan nodded.
"That seems fair."
"My ex-husband is remarried, and lawyers are debating which marriage stands."
"Also fair."
"And he doesn't remember me."
Ethan's expression softened slightly.
"Yeah... that part sounds rough."
She exhaled slowly.
"So you see the problem."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Maybe you deserve a night where nobody talks about any of that."
That caught her off guard.
He continued,
"Dinner. Conversation. Zero expectations."
"And if I cry in the middle of the restaurant?"
"Then we order dessert and pretend it was allergies."
She laughed again.
"You're very confident."
"I'm very hungry," he corrected.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Where would we even go?"
"The diner in town."
"That's dangerous."
"Why?"
"Everyone will stare."
"Let them."
"That's easy for you to say."
He shrugged.
"I don't mind people staring."
She studied him again.
"You're related to Parker."
"Guilty."
"So he'll definitely find out about this."
"Oh, absolutely, we're cousins."
"And you're still asking?"
He smiled.
"Life's short."
She looked down at her oversized sweatshirt.
"I'm literally wearing my ex-husband's clothes."
"Good thing the date isn't right now."
She considered that.
Then she sighed softly.
"You're very persistent."
"So is the wrench I'm supposed to be using."
She looked toward the door where Parker was still working.
Then back at Ethan.
"You promise you won't ask me about my tragic backstory?"
"I promise."
"You promise you won't treat me like some fragile emotional disaster?"
"Absolutely."
"You promise this is just dinner."
"Scout's honor."
She hesitated.
Then finally she said,
"Okay."
Ethan blinked.
"Okay?"
"Okay."
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Tonight?"
"Tonight."
"What time?"
"Six."
"Diner?"
"Diner."
He nodded once, satisfied.
"Alright."
Then he tapped the wrench against his palm again and turned toward the door.
Halfway out, he looked back.
"I'm glad I asked."
Aria took another sip of coffee.
"Me too."
Outside, Parker's voice called again.
"You bothering Aria in there?"
Ethan stepped onto the porch.
"Relax, I was recruiting your friend for a date."
There was a pause.
Then Parker shouted,
"You did what?"