I’m not sure what to say. Everything is so messed up right now. Hearing this six years ago would have made a difference, but now? With so much on the line?
He exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands as if he needs to see them to stay grounded. “I was thirty-four, a firefighter with more scars than prospects and a past I didn’t know how to outrun.”
“What past? You always hint at something you’ve done wrong, but even Carlie doesn’t know what that is.”
His voice goes raw. “I exist.”
“What are you talking about?”
He rubs a hand over his palm, jaw working. “My dad always told me that I was his biggest mistake. And my dad was a huge asshole, so to be his biggest mistake meant something. He was cruel to me, to my mom. Not physically, but he was meaner than a viper. He walked out when I was ten. Just left one day and never came back. Carlie was little—she barely remembers him.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that?—”
“And I watched my mom barely survive it. As much as he was a piece of shit, she depended on him. On his paycheck. He demanded that she be a stay-at-home mom, so she didn’t have anything when he left. No career, no job skills to speak of. Nothing. It took her years before she had anything to call her own. Years of hard work, of fear.” He glances away. “She doesn’t know it, and neither does Carlie, but there were nights that I pretended I wasn’t hungry so they’d have a little more to eat.”
My throat tightens painfully. “Oh God.”
“He used to tell me I was just like him,” Aiden continues quietly. “A waste of space. A boy who would ruin anything good he touched. I believed him… internalized it. Sometimes, I made it true, because when you hear a thing so often, it becomes your truth. I’d act out in school sometimes, or bully kids… makes me sick to think of it now. Made me sick to do it, too. But it made this weird kind of sense to take out my anger about my dad on kids who had everything handed to them. I can’t explain it.”
“I think I get what you mean—you saw someone with more than you, so you wanted to take them down a notch. Something like that?”
“Yeah, maybe. But I straightened up when I realized my mom and sister were depending on me. Got my grades right and gota scholarship for the fire academy.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “But all that bullshit sticks with you when it comes from your dad. And when things are real and important, you feel it more. When I looked at you, all I could think was that if I loved you out loud, I would be just like him...”
I shake my head. “That’s not who you are, Aiden.”
He lifts his head then, eyes meeting mine again. “I pushed you away before I could break you the way he broke my mom. Because I couldn’t live with myself if I did that to you.”
I don’t have the words to comfort him, so I lay my hand on his forearm because I need to touch him right now.
His voice is thick and heavy. “And then I broke you anyway while trying to save you from me. Because even when I try to do the right thing, I fuck that up, too.”
Tears spill over before I can stop them, hot and relentless. “You didn’t break me,” I say, my voice cracking. “Losing you did.”
The air between us hums, charged and electric, like something ancient and fragile has been exposed to the light. The wind tugs at the blanket around my shoulders, grounding me just enough to keep my knees from buckling under the weight of everything he’s said.
Aiden breaks the silence first.
“I don’t want to be just friends, Harper.” His voice is steady, but there’s nothing casual about it. “I never did. I never could bejust friendswith you.”
My heart stutters hard enough that I have to press my lips together to keep from saying something reckless. This is the moment where I’m supposed to be careful. I have a child. I have a business. I have scars that took years to stitch closed.
I force out the words, because some part of me fights against me saying them. “Then what do you want with me?”
“You. All of you. The messy parts. The complicated parts. I want a real shot at this.” He hesitates, then adds more quietly, “But I’m scared I’ll screw it up again. And I’m in too deep not to try anyway.”
The honesty in that cracks something open in me. “So am I. I’m terrified of making another bad decision. But I refuse to be so scared that I don’t go after what I want anymore.”
He waits, giving me space even now, even with everything in the open between us. I close the distance instead, stepping into him and bringing my hands up to his chest. He peers into my eyes, still waiting for a sign.
Then I stand on my toes and press my lips to his.
The kiss is hot and immediate, all the restraint of the last few days collapsing under the weight of years of wanting. His hands come around me, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. I feel it everywhere—his grip at my waist, the heat of his body, the way he kisses me like he’s been holding back for far too long.
We don’t rush it. We linger, letting the moment stretch, letting the reality of it settle in. When we finally pull back, my forehead rests against his, both of us breathing harder than before.
“We go slow,” I say, even as every part of me wants to do the opposite. “Carefully. Mason comes first.”
He nods immediately. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
