Page 7 of Summer Ever After

Everyone who worked on campus knew that.

Aaron had seen that look many times before. On victims too used to not being believed. On women who had been through so much they sensed danger in the shift of shadows. It wasn’t the wide-eyed panic of someone reacting to a single bad scare, but something older. Deeper. The kind of fear that came from repetition. This wasn’t paranoia. This wasn’t her being overly cautious.

This was survival, and she was damn good at it at this point.

Even though she shouldn’t have to be.

“You did the right thing coming here,” he said at last when she went silent. He kept his voice low and even. Then he added what he knew she needed to hear. “I believe you.”

Her eyes met his then, wide and glassy with unshed emotion. Like maybe that was the one thing she hadn’t expected to hear, and the only thing she needed.

“Did you happen to see the license plate?” he asked when she relaxed a little.

She looked down at the bottle of water in her hand. “Maybe I…” She closed her eyes and then shook her head. “I was too stupid.”

“You’re not.” His voice was firm now. “Don’t say that. You were scared. Not stupid. If your gut says something’s off, follow it every single time. I’ll check the cameras. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see the car and be able to read the plates.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond. Then she gave him a small, tired nod.

Aaron would review the footage later, once she’d had a chance to catch her breath. Once she was gone and didn’t feel the weight of his concern pressing too close. But for now, he stayed exactly where he was, grounded, steady, present. Because sometimes, silence was the only real comfort a person could offer. And he had the feeling Beth hadn’t had much of that.

He didn’t know all of Beth’s story, only fragments passed around by staff, enough to piece together that her ex, Ian, obviously didn’t know how to let go.

Aaron knew Ian personally. He had served with him back when they were both fresh out of the police academy. They had been young and trying to prove something to the world. Even then, Ian had worn his badge like a weapon and his charm like armor. The man knew how to smile when people were watching and how to intimidate others when they weren’t.

Aaron had seen it firsthand. The flashes of temper just beneath the surface. The loss of control. The ego. It had taken him all of five minutes to know that he didn’t trust the guy, and not much longer to see that Ian didn’t like being questioned and not trusted.

Maybe it was Aaron’s own history that had sharpened his instincts and made him sensitive to the shadows people hid behind. Or maybe he’d just spent too many years looking past uniforms and good reputations, learning the hard way that darkness didn’t always wear a mask. Sometimes, it wore a smile. Sometimes, it called you brother.

He didn’t need to know every detail of what Ian had done to Beth to understand the damage that he’d done to her. It was in the way she sat like she was braced for impact. In the way her eyes never stopped scanning the room. The way her fingers still clenched that water bottle because it was at least something solid to hold on to.

And that was all he needed to know.

She was here. She was scared. And someone needed to make damn sure that she stayed safe.

Aaron could do that.

He would do that.

Even if it meant facing some of the old shadows he’d worked hard to avoid himself.

Once Beth’s breathing had evened out and the water bottle sat empty on the desk between them, Aaron quietly stood.

“Are you hungry?” He kept his tone casual, easy. “I know you just ate lunch with Julie, but they have really good pie today in the cafeteria.”

Beth hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I could go for a slice of Isaac’s pie.” She visibly relaxed.

He didn’t make a big deal out of it. Just offered his hand to help her up, and when she didn’t take it, he gave her space, walking a step ahead as they exited the security building.

The sun was already arcing lower in the sky, the warmth of the afternoon shifting into that golden, hazy stretch of pre-evening that made the Spanish moss look like it was glowing. A few guests wandered by on cruiser bikes, laughing as they balanced beach bags and shopping bags from the gift shop on their handlebars.

Normal. Peaceful. Safe.

He wanted her to feel that.

Inside the employee dining room, the air was cooler, the hum of the fridge blending with distant kitchen clatter. A small round table near the back was empty, so he led her to it. He grabbed himself a large slice of chocolate pie while she’d gone for the classic apple with ice cream.

She smiled softly. “I dream of having this every night for the rest of my life.”