His hand moves down my body and between my legs, his fingers picking up where he won’t yet put his dick.
“Maybe.”
Afterward, we fall asleep, exhausted, my body humming but not satisfied.
Aiden makes it sound so easy to be his, to stay. But how can I transplant my entire life? It’s not just Aiden here; it’s the ghost of my father. A father I never knew. A father who knew about me but did nothing until it was too late.
13
LEXI
Morning sunlight filters through the window, warming my cheek as I swim into consciousness. Someone has pulled the curtains, and through the window, the mountain sits majestic and silent, as if watching over us.
“Morning, beautiful.”
There’s the rattle of plates as Aiden enters the bedroom, bringing with him the smell of fried bacon and fresh coffee. He carries a tray piled high with bacon and scrambled eggs and slices of thick tomato.
My body aches as I sit up in bed, and I blush, remembering all the things we did together last night. Everything apart from have sex.
Aiden places the tray on the side of the bed and swoops in to kiss me. All my embarrassment melts away as my body responds to him. Despite the aches and hunger in my belly, I want more.
“Good morning.” I slide my hand into his sweatpants, and his eyes darken with heat.
Knowing I do that to him fuels my desire, and I grasp his thick length.
“This is what I want for breakfast.”
Giving me a wicked grin, Aiden moves the breakfast tray to the dresser.
“Then eat up.”
He falls on top of me, and we devour each other for breakfast, only moving onto the bacon and eggs once our hunger for each other is sated. But I’m not satisfied. Aiden still refuses to give me the one thing I want, which is all of him.
At first, I thought it was a game, his holding back to tease me. But the more he refuses, the more I believe he’s sincere.
He believes we’re meant to be together. He trusts this connection we have with blind faith. And as I lean forward to swipe bacon grease from his stubble, revealing his one dimple, I wonder if I’m starting to believe it too.
An hour later, we’re back at the property. Aiden has brought his chainsaw, and he heads over to the fallen tree to cut it up for firewood while I head into the house and upstairs. I want to look through my father’s things and try to get a sense of who this man was.
I go straight to the journal I found in his drawer. If anything will tell me about my father, it’s his own words.
A chair sits by the window, positioned to catch the light. I wipe the dust off it and flip the journal to the beginning.
January 1st
The new year brings new snow. A white coat covers the mountain, contrasting with the ocean-blue sky. If I look too hard, my eyes hurt from the glare.
The first few pages are his observations on the landscape around him and the changing seasons.
March 16th
The kestrels are nesting in the big oak tree. Cookie is back and taking over the same hollow as last year.
There’s little mention of other humans. But a passage catches my attention.
April 19th
Joel stopped by today. The retreat opens next week, and he invited me to the opening ceremony. My hands shake thinking about it.