Page 52 of Summer Ever After

Chapter Eighteen

Her lips were soft against his, a faint taste of salt lingering from lunch. For a moment, he forgot about the dresser beneath his hand, forgot about the dozen projects waiting for attention. All he could feel was Beth, her warmth, the way her arms clung around his neck like she wasn’t letting go.

When she pulled back, he kept his forehead against hers, breathing her in. God, she was trouble. The good kind. The kind that made a man forget about keeping his heart locked down.

“You make this sound like more than it is,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone. “Half the time I’m just fixing broken legs and filling scratches.”

She shook her head, smiling up at him in that stubborn way she had. “It’s not just furniture, Aaron. It’s you giving something a second life.” She turned slightly away from him. “Ian used to destroy our furniture. Every time he got mad, he’d break something.” She turned and glanced at him as he felt his temper rise.

“I’m nothing like—” he started, but she laid a finger gently over his lips.

“I know,” she sighed. “I… I’ve never told anyone about it.”

He nodded slowly. “Tell me.” He took her hand in his. “I’ll listen.”

She smiled weakly and then leaned against the dresser beside him.

“Up until our wedding day,” she started as she stared directly ahead, unseeing, “he played the role of a perfect gentleman. Since I’d been raised by a very strict Christian woman, I had never dated before him.” She half glanced over at him. “I’d never been with a man before my wedding night.” He nodded in understanding and she continued. “In the limo on the way to the airport for our honeymoon was the first time he hit me. I chalked it up to wedding stress and nerves. Our honeymoon was, well, okay.” She shrugged. “He picked the place, every single thing we did. He even ordered every meal for me so that I would understand who was in charge of my life now.” She sighed.

“He’s an ass,” Aaron said under his breath, and she chuckled.

“Yes, he is.” She sighed. “It was mostly little things at first. A slap. Controlling what I could eat. But it kept building until he was controlling which friends I could have, where I worked, what I bought.” She rolled her shoulders slowly. “One day, after I’d picked up the remains of several lamps and a nightstand, I looked in the mirror and realized it wasn’t just the furniture he’d broken. The bruises were always well hidden,” she continued. “He never broke bones or gave me a black eye. He would grab my wrists, twist”—she glanced down at her skin—“leaving burn marks that he made me cover with long sleeves, even in the summer.”

“You’re so strong to stand against all that.” He took her hand gently in his, needing to show her that there was no way in hell he’d ever hurt her.

“Do you want to know what the final straw was that woke me up?” She turned towards him.

He nodded slowly, afraid to speak, afraid to find out the horrors Ian had done to her.

“A sweater.” She sighed and looked down at her hands. “A stupid goddamned red sweater.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “We had been invited to a Christmas party.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “At the camp. I was so excited that I went out and, without thinking, bought myself a new sweater. It wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t expensive, it was just something that I saw and wanted to wear to the party.” She took a deep breath. “When I came out of the bedroom wearing it, Ian flew off the handle. An hour later, with my new sweater lying in pieces on the floor, I walked out of the house wearing the black dress he’d picked out for me, determined to leave him the next day.”

He took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly.

“He can’t control you anymore.”

“I know. I’m free, but the fire seems like the sweater all over again. The things I’d spent the last few years buying and enjoying are all gone.”

“We can go shopping,” he suggested out of the blue. When she shifted slightly, he added quickly. “I know everyone bought you all of those things out of love, but… maybe we can head into town and you can pick out things for yourself?”

She smiled suddenly. “I’d like that.”

He hadn’t expected her smile to come so easily after everything she’d just confided in him, but when she agreed, something loosened in his chest. Maybe because it wasn’t just about clothes to her, it was about giving her the choice. And about her taking something back for herself.

The drive into Santa Rosa Beach was quiet at first. Beth rolled the passenger window down, letting the breeze whip strands of her hair free, her eyes on the horizon where the bay shimmered in patches of silver as they passed over the bridge. He kept sneaking glances at her, noting the way the sunlight touched her profile, softening the lines worry had carved there.

The outlet mall spread wide, a maze of storefronts and bustling shoppers. Aaron found a spot near the edge of the lot and killed the engine.

“Where should we start?” she asked.

“Wherever you like. There’s no rush,” he said, meeting her eyes. “We’ve got all afternoon.”

Inside the first store, Beth hesitated, fingers brushing over a rack of shirts like she wasn’t sure she had the right. Even though she had bought things since leaving Ian, she had never enjoyed it, had always had his voice in her head.

Aaron stayed a step behind, hands in his pockets, letting her lead. She picked up a blouse, pale blue with bright blue buttons down the front, held it against herself in the mirror. “Do you think this will work?” she asked, brows pinched.

“It’s perfect,” he said without hesitation. “Buy it.”

And she did.