Chapter 26 Aiden
AIDEN
Six Months Later…
The morning of our wedding arrives quietly, the way the best days always seem to.
I wake before the sun crests the trees, the lake still wrapped in a thin veil of mist that drifts lazily across the water.
The cabin is hushed except for the soft creak of wood settling and the distant call of birds just starting to stir.
For a moment, I lie there and let it wash over me—the smell of pine through the open window, the cool air against my skin, the strange, steady calm sitting in my chest.
This place has always held weight for me.
Six years ago, I stood on this same ground and made the worst decision of my life.
I told myself it was selfless. Responsible.
Protective. I convinced myself that walking away from Harper here was the right thing to do, that love was something dangerous I needed to contain before it destroyed us both.
Today, I’m here to undo that lie completely.
We slept here last night, and now, my face is buried in her hair, breathing her in. My arm lays over her waist, and she’s tucked back into me. Doesn’t matter how we start the night; we always end up spooning by morning.
And this morning, my body has only one thought. I blame her exquisite ass for that—I’ve been hard and wedged there since I woke up.
I nuzzle into her hair deeper to find the back of her sugar-sweet neck and take a taste. It doesn’t wake her. I do the same thing to that nook where her neck meets her shoulder. Still nothing.
My hand glides from in front of her to her hip, massaging her there. Finally, a faint moan. But she’s still asleep. So, I gently rock her body, using my cock to stroke her ass cheeks. She sighs. No words, though.
I whisper, “Baby? You awake?”
Nothing.
I have two options. I can wake her up for fun or let her sleep. We were up late last night at the rehearsal dinner. She deserves sleep.
But I did let her sleep in. And it’s an important day that I want to start the right way.
Gently, I lay her onto her back. Her blissful smile makes me want bad, and her body, spread out like a feast, is all the more inviting. I kiss her ankle, and she doesn’t budge.
But her lips twitch.
On a hunch, I kiss her inner calf.
Another twitch.
As I smooth my hand up her inner thigh, her smile grows. “You brat!”
She giggles and peeps down at me. “Thought I could get you to do all the work, and I’d just lay here and… let you.”
I laugh and dive face first onto her pussy. Her gasps are a beautiful thing. Between licks, I’m sure to tell her, “If you ever want me to do all the work, all you have to do is ask.”
“Aiden, would you—”
I hook her legs over my shoulders and devour every inch of her. She’s so wet that I might drown, and I don’t fucking care. If I die, I die.
But she digs her fingers into my hair to steal my attention. I give her clit one last hard suck, before I meet her gaze. “Baby, I need you!”
Those magic words. I launch up the bed, sliding into her when we align. I shove my arms beneath her to hold her close to me, and in this moment, only she exists.
Six years ago, I never thought we’d be back here. I thought it was a one-time thing that only felt like destiny. I have never been so happy to be wrong.
Her body pulses against me in waves as she comes, and I slow to a stop, kissing her lips, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. Anywhere on that perfect face until she regains her breath. Her giggles set me alight. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever I want.” I pull out and return her to her side, once again spooning her. “Any objections?”
“No, but you haven’t—”
I pull her hip back and ease in once more. Her body goes tight, then relaxes against me. Until she rolls herself to take me in—then, she’s tense again. Can’t let that stand. “I thought you wanted me to do all the work.”
“You feel too good. I can’t hold still.”
A rough laugh tumbles out of me. “Let me do the work, Harper.”
She sighs. “I’ll try.”
Using her hip as a handle, I bring her to me as I thrust forward. Her breaths grow ragged, like my own. She pulses against me again, and I know from experience, she’s fighting the urge to meet my strokes.
She’s being so good. She deserves a treat.
So, I reach around her hip and play with her clit as I thrust, using my forearm to maneuver her hip at the same time.
Her body squeezes on me, making my balls ache even more.
The foul language that pours out of her pouty lips could make a sailor blush, and then, she comes again, tossing her head back.
I barely dodge out of the way in time, and then, I’m coming, too.
We lie there, locked together, panting, for some time. But she breaks the silence with, “I love you.”
And somehow, that hardens me right back up again. “I love you, too.” I kiss her shoulder, and the bell rings for Round Two.
After Round Two and a long, hot shower, we take to separate rooms to dress. I hear cursing under her breath when I pass her door. Must be hell to get a wedding dress on. She didn’t even let me help her pick it out, swearing it was bad luck.
The cabin looks different now, transformed without losing what made it special in the first place.
String lights are draped along the porch railing and woven through the nearby trees, still unlit.
Wildflowers—simple, colorful, slightly unruly—fill glass jars and line the makeshift aisle leading down toward the lake.
Nothing is overly polished. Nothing feels staged. It’s intimate and exactly right.
Only the people who matter are here.
About thirty of them, scattered between the main cabin and the smaller guesthouse. They stayed the night in nearby cabins, so we’d all be here together for today without the stress of making a long drive into the country.
I spot familiar faces through the windows as I pull on my dark suit—firehouse crew members trying very hard not to look out of place, friends who’ve known Harper and me through our worst moments, family who never stopped believing we’d find our way back to each other.
Carlie breezes past the doorway at one point, arms full of programs and flowers. She catches my eye and presses a hand to her heart dramatically. “I’m fine,” she insists. “I’m totally fine.”
She is absolutely not fine.
Garrett appears behind her, straightening his tie with exaggerated seriousness. “I just want to go on record that if I cry today, it’s because of allergies. Or the sun. Or childhood trauma.”
I snort despite myself. “The sun is almost set. Can’t blame it.”
Down the hall, I hear Mason’s voice, loud and earnest. “Again! I need to practice again!”
He bursts into the room a second later, ring pillow clutched carefully in both hands, brow furrowed with concentration.
He’s wearing a small suit that makes him look impossibly grown-up, and he’s taking his role more seriously than any job I’ve ever had.
“I have to walk slow. And not trip. And not drop the rings.”
“You’ve got this,” I tell him, crouching down so we’re eye level. “Want to practice one more time?”
He nods solemnly and does another careful lap across the rug, chin up, shoulders back, beaming when he finishes without incident.
“You nailed it, kid.”
“Alright!” We high five, before he runs away to find the other kids.
I find myself drawn toward the water more than once, shoes abandoned near the porch, bare feet pressing into the cool grass. The earth is damp, and the scent of pine and lake water fills my lungs every time I breathe deeply.
Six years ago, standing here felt like standing on the edge of something I didn’t trust myself to survive. Today, it feels like standing inside a choice I’ve already made, one I’m no longer questioning or negotiating with fear.
Garrett joins me after a while, his usual swagger muted by the quiet gravity of the day. He stands beside me without speaking, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the lake as if he’s giving me space to think without saying so out loud. But then he asks, “You’re sure about all this?”
I tell him the truth. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
He nods like that’s exactly the answer he expected. “I’ve got a full tank of gas, in case you change your mind.”
“I thought you liked Harper.”
“Almost as much as you do. She’s good people, Aiden. But that doesn’t mean a man is ready for marriage.”
I elbow him. “I get your meaning. Don’t need the escape plan. But thanks.”
He nods again and goes back to being silent.
As more guests arrive outside, I shake hands, accept congratulations, and exchange brief hugs, but my attention keeps drifting back to wondering how long she’ll be. I hope she’s having fun, keeping me from seeing her.
Brat.
No. My brat.
Standing here right before sunset, surrounded by the people who matter most, I understand something I didn’t six years ago.
Love doesn’t demand perfection or fearlessness.
It demands presence and commitment, again and again, even when it’s uncomfortable.
And those moments don’t matter, because when they’re over, they’re nothing.
Love isn’t daily fireworks. Love is in the quiet moments.
The ones we don’t notice, if we aren’t paying attention.
Love is making sure we have the lactose free half and half because she knows my stomach gets upset with the regular stuff, even though I handle ice cream just fine.
Love is making the coffee before she wakes up, because she needs caffeine for her brain to work well enough to make coffee.
It’s filling her gas tank for her, because she always forgets, and it’s setting out my lunchbox the night before, because she knows I’m in a hurry in the morning.
Love is when you do everything you can to make their life better, and they do the same.
Carlie gets a text and says, “It’s time.” The crowd settles, and me and my sister take our places in the grass by the lake. The moment Harper appears at the far end of the path, the world narrows again.