Page 61 of Summer Ever After

Chapter Twenty-One

For a moment, no one in the room answered her question. The weight of the silence pressed down on her chest until she could hardly breathe.

Finally, Zoey cleared her throat. “We don’t let him dictate your life. That’s what he wants. We keep moving forward.” She glanced around the room. “If Beth and Aaron go back to work at the camp, they’ll be surrounded all day by staff and guests. There is safety in numbers. It’s worked wonders so far whenever one of us was in a pickle.”

“She’s right,” Brett said. “There’s always people coming and going. Eyes everywhere. If Ian tries something again, he won’t get far.”

Beth chewed her lip. Part of her wanted to protest, to say that the thought of stepping foot outside made her stomach twist, but deep down she knew Zoey and Brett were right. She couldn’t hide forever. Ian had already stolen too many pieces of her life—her apartment, her things, her sense of peace. She wouldn’t let him take away her work as well. Not the place that had given her so much. The place she loved.

“All right,” she said softly. “Tomorrow, I’ll go back.”

Aaron’s hand brushed hers, steady, warm. “We’ll go back,” he corrected, and she felt the faintest easing of the knot in her chest.

The group stayed for another hour, clustered around the muted news, tossing out strategies, legal moves, increased security at the camp, even Zoey’s idea of hiring a private investigator, possibly the same one Brett had hired earlier. Then Owen stepped in and said he knew a better one, and that his lawyer was working on his own ideas.

By the time the sun had slipped lower in the sky, Beth’s mind buzzed with too many words and too much fear.

When the last of her friends filtered out, offering hugs and promises, the house finally quieted.

She climbed the stairs when Aaron suggested she head up and take a bath. Somehow, each step she took was heavier than the last. She needed a release, something to wash away the grime of panic clinging to her skin. Upstairs, she ran a bath hotter than usual and slid in, added some jasmine and lemon bath salts that were on the shelf, then sank until the water lapped at her collarbone. Her muscles loosened, but her mind refused to stop spinning. Ian’s face, the slip of the mask, the officers’ dismissive tones, they all chased her.

The door creaked, and she glanced up to see Aaron standing there with a tray holding a glass of milk and a few chocolate chip cookies on a plate. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes softened when they found her.

“I made some cookies and thought you’d like some.”

She waved him in and sat up a little.

“I honestly didn’t mean to intrude,” he said quietly as he set the tray down. She was surprised when he pulled a bath tray out of the linen closet and set it over the water. After he put the cookies and milk on it, he sat on the edge of the tub and said. “I was worried and just wanted to check on you.”

She took a bite of the still-warm cookie and exhaled a long, shaky breath. “I needed this.” She took another bite. “And your company. Today scraped me raw.”

He nodded as he took a cookie and bit into it. She could see the tension still in his jaw as he chewed.

“They’ll drag their feet,” he muttered. “But this time… he slipped up. Sooner or later, it’ll catch up to him. There’s no way the chief can ignore him now.”

Beth studied him, the way his shoulders carried not just his own burden but hers too. She’d had so many nights alone with nothing but her fear. Tonight, she didn’t want that anymore.

“Aaron?” she asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“Would you…” She hesitated and sat the rest of her cookie down, then forced the words out before she lost her courage. “Stay with me tonight? I don’t, I don’t want any more bad dreams.”

His eyes flicked to hers, startled at first, then resolute. “Beth,” he said, setting his own cookie down and taking her hand in his. His voice was low and firm. “You don’t ever have to ask me twice.”

For the first time that day, warmth flickered through the cold in her chest. She leaned her head back against the tub’s edge and let the smallest smile ghost across her lips.

Maybe she wouldn’t sleep without dreams. But with Aaron close, at least she wouldn’t face the darkness alone.

Once the water had turned lukewarm, Aaron left, and she climbed out, dried off, and pulled on a pair of soft sleeping shorts and a tank top.

Her movements were sluggish, as though her body was twice its weight. Every muscle ached from holding herself so tightly all day, from guarding her tone, her expression, her very breath. She brushed her teeth, then tossed her hair into a loose braid to keep it from tangling, each small act feeling strangely foreign, as if these simple rituals belonged to another version of herself, a woman who used to move through her days without fear.

By the time she slipped under the covers next to Aaron, exhaustion settled over her like a heavy quilt. He pulled her close and she listened to his steady heartbeat and breathing.

“Do you feel better?” he asked softly, his fingertips brushing her shoulders.

“Yes.” She shifted until she could look at him. “Chocolate always makes it better.”