Page 38 of Summer Ever After

Chapter Thirteen

Could he see how much she was shaking? Did he know how nervous she felt when he touched her? What the feeling of his calloused hands on her soft skin did to her insides?

She played with the corner of the blanket, focusing on the way the threads were tied together instead of the way Aaron’s nearness tied her stomach in knots. He sat beside her, close but not crowding.

“Something tells me that you’re nervous around me,” he said softly, as though he could read every thought swirling in her head. “I want you to feel at ease around me. I would never do anything, ever”—his eyes locked with hers for a long pause—“to hurt you. I’ve never lifted a finger to anyone, only men who come at me first.” He rubbed his bruised jaw, and she felt anger towards her ex bubbling deep inside her gut.

She instantly felt stupid for not hiding her nerves from him better, and she let out a shaky laugh. “Being nervous around men is my superpower. Relaxing is easier said than done.” She glanced at him, then away again, her gaze finding the distant line of trees. The words pressed at her chest, heavy and insistent, demanding release.

His hand slowly reached across and laced with her fingers.

“My dad was the only man who ever made me feel like I wasn’t broken.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “When he died, everything changed. My mom… sort of lost it. She turned deeper into her church, into rules and punishments and sins.” Beth swallowed, twisting the fabric of her dress in her lap. “Suddenly, every move I made was wrong. Every smile, every dream. She never hesitated to tell me how I was selfish, prideful, sinful. And I believed her.”

Aaron didn’t speak, but his hand rested lightly over hers, grounding her.

“I thought Ian was my only chance to escape,” she whispered, shame burning her throat. “He was a little older, confident, and he promised me a life away from all of that. I thought… I thought he was saving me.” Her chest tightened, her pulse racing. Shame for being so gullible ate at her day and night. “But really, I just traded one prison for another.”

The tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back, unwilling to break down completely. She forced a smile, though it trembled at the edges. “Guess I’ve always been good at picking cages.”

Aaron’s thumb brushed her knuckles, gentle, steady, the touch of a man who wouldn’t let her spiral alone.

Beth drew in a shaky breath, letting the words hang between them like fragile glass she wasn’t sure she wanted to touch again. “She doesn’t really see me now. I usually get as far as her door before she starts in on me,” she said at last, her voice low. “I tried to set boundaries and told her if she couldn’t accept me without tearing me apart, then we didn’t need to talk. So we don’t. She still sends me scripture quotes sometimes, long paragraphs about repentance and forgiveness, but…” Beth’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I don’t answer anymore. I can’t. I won’t let her keep that power over me.”

Aaron’s grip on her hand tightened just a fraction, enough to remind her she wasn’t alone. He didn’t look away, didn’t flinch at the rawness in her voice.

“Do you have anyone else?” he asked gently. “Family?”

Beth let her gaze drift out over the wide field beyond the oak, the golden light spilling across the grass like memory. The horses and donkeys grazed peacefully. “There was my dad’s sister, Aunt Marianne. I used to spend a week each summer with her when I was little. She made everything feel… easy. She painted, cooked big meals, let me run barefoot through her garden. It was the only time I was allowed to feel like a real child.” A smile flickered across her face, faint but real. “But after Dad died, my mom cut ties. She said Marianne was filling my head with nonsense. I haven’t seen her since the funeral.”

Her throat tightened at the thought, the ache of years of silence pressing in. “Sometimes I wonder if she’d even remember me the same way I remember her. If she’d even want me around after all this time.”

Aaron shifted, leaning a little closer, his voice steady but warm. “I think anyone who once loved you like that doesn’t just forget. Maybe it’s not too late to find out. You should reach out and get in touch with her. Invite her to the camp for a week,” he suggested. “We get family discounts, remember?”

Beth’s chest pulled tight, the hope both terrifying and tantalizing. “Maybe,” she whispered, though the word felt fragile, like it might dissolve if she breathed too hard.

Aaron’s thumb brushed along her knuckles again, a grounding touch. “You deserve more than cages, Beth. And you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Her eyes burned and she fought back the tears as she watched one of the donkeys pick up a large red ball, toss it in the air, and kick it with its hind legs, like a soccer pro. A burst of laughter escaped her and she was pretty sure Aaron thought she had lost her mind.

Then he glanced over and smiled.

“Tofu is a pro-soccer player reincarnated.”

She couldn’t help it, hearing the little donkey’s ridiculous name said in Aaron’s deep voice tipped her over the edge. Laughter bubbled out of her until she was doubled over, clutching her side.

“Really?” she gasped between giggles. “Tofu?”

Aaron grinned, leaning back on his hands, watching her with an expression that made her insides twist in a different, much sweeter way. “Don’t blame me. That was my father’s doing. Besides, it suits him. He’s full of energy, kind of weird, and surprisingly strong.”

Beth wiped at her eyes, still chuckling, her braid slipping over her shoulder like a silk rope. “He’s… perfect.” She hadn’t meant the word to sound so soft, so full, but Aaron’s gaze lingered on her a second too long, and warmth spread up her chest.

The afternoon light shifted slightly across his face and his sun-browned skin. He was handsome, in a rugged way. He kept a little stubble on his face, which made him look just the right amount of sexy but not dangerous, like the full-beard look most men wore now could do.

It felt like something rare, sitting here with him, safe and light in a way she hadn’t felt in so long.

Aaron nudged her with his knee, his voice easy. “I think Tofu likes you. He’s showing off now.”

They both watched as the donkey went into overdrive for a few minutes, braying, kicking the ball, tossing it up in the air. He would stop and look at them until they clapped or laughed before starting up again.