Page 50 of Summer Ever After

The laughter that followed warmed something deep inside her, easing the ache that never seemed to leave her chest. They lingered over coffee until the plates were mostly empty, then stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, rinsing dishes and passing them back and forth. He washed while she dried, their elbows bumping now and then. Every time she glanced up, he was already looking at her, smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It felt… dangerously good. Like slipping into a rhythm she hadn’t even known she wanted.

Once the counters were wiped down and the kitchen restored, Beth hesitated, fiddling with the edge of her tank top. “Hey, could you maybe help me with my laptop? I need to, you know, get my digital life back in order.”

“Of course.” He didn’t even pause, just motioned for her to lead the way.

They went upstairs into the room she’d claimed as an office. The desk was neat except for the unopened laptop, still sitting where she’d left it in its box.

For the next hour, Aaron helped her set it up. There were updates, passwords to set up, software to install. His long fingers moving confidently over the keyboard as the system booted up after the last install. She perched beside him on the chair, close enough that his knee brushed hers.

Her heart beat faster, not from nerves over the machine, but from the simple closeness.

Finally, the machine was ready to use and he sat back while, one by one, she tackled the to-do list she’d been dreading. First up, she requested replacement credit cards from each of her banks and filled out address change forms for all of her accounts. Next, she applied for a duplicate driver’s license from the state, thankful that they had an online form and would mail it to her in the coming days.

Each task seemed so daunting on its own, but as she checked another one off, she started to feel like she was taking back tiny pieces of her life.

When the final confirmation screen popped up, she sagged back into the chair with a sigh. “That is a start to getting my life back.”

Aaron nudged her shoulder with his. “It’s progress.”

Beth looked at him, really looked at him—the way his eyes softened when they met hers, the way he seemed completely unbothered by the mess of her life bleeding into his. And for the first time since the fire, she let herself believe maybe she wasn’t as lost as she’d thought.

“Since you helped me, can I help you outside with the animals?”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

She nodded. “I could use the fresh air.”

Aaron gave her one of those quiet, patient smiles, the kind that didn’t push but left the choice in her hands.

“Sure. You might want to change into those new boots you got.” He motioned to her bare feet.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” She jumped up and headed into her bedroom.

She met him downstairs in a pair of jean shorts and a short-sleeved checkered shirt, along with a new pair of socks and her new climbing boots. He led her out the back door, across the wide porch, and down towards the barn.

She noticed how he moved with practiced ease, grabbing buckets, turning on the pump, filling water troughs until they bubbled over. Beth trailed after him, taking in the neat rows of fencing, the chickens scratching in their pen, the group of horses that lifted their heads curiously as the two of them approached.

“Want to pour the grain?” he asked, holding out a scoop.

She hesitated, then took it, surprised at the satisfying weight in her hand. The horses nosed closer as if they could already smell the oats. She laughed, a soft, startled sound, as their warm breath brushed her wrist while she dumped the grain into the trough.

“They like you,” Aaron said matter-of-factly, but his eyes lingered on her longer than they did on the horses.

Her chest tightened, but not with the usual fear. It was something lighter. Tentative. A flicker of belonging.

When they’d finished, Aaron hooked the empty buckets and carried them with one hand as though they weighed nothing. Beth followed him back towards the porch, brushing a stray piece of hay from her shirt. The fire and the chaos it had left behind felt distant here, muted by the ordinary rhythm of his life.

She didn’t want to go back inside just yet, so they sat under the porch on a swing until her stomach growled loudly.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Beth laughed. “Starving, actually.”

“Me too.” He took her hand and then headed inside.

She helped as he moved around the kitchen, taking out a skillet, slicing thick pieces of cheese from four different chunks, and then cutting several slices of sourdough bread. He added butter to both sides and put them in the sizzling pan, and she watched as he added thick slices of ham to the middle, between each slice of cheese.