24. Levi

CHAPTER 24

Levi

Aiden was the last person I expected to see when I dragged myself up the gravel drive, my boots heavy with mud. For a second, I thought I was imagining him, standing there by the porch with his arms crossed like he’d been waiting a while. Then he shifted, his breath visible in the chill night air, and reality hit me like a gut punch.

I stopped, feeling the tree sling dig into my shoulder until it slid off, landing on the ground with a soft thud, forgotten. God, I was so damn tired. “What are you doing here?” My voice came out rougher than I meant it to, the exhaustion bleeding through every syllable.

Aiden fidgeted, his hands brushing the hem of his thick hoodie, his boots scuffing the gravel as he shifted. His shoulders were hunched slightly, probably from the cold, but he didn’t seem to notice. His voice, quiet yet steady, broke the silence first. “You didn’t answer my texts,” he said.

“I know.” I sighed, glancing toward the barn, where rows of bundled trees were stacked inside. I’d thrown myself into work all day, hoping exhaustion would drown out everything else. “I just… I needed time.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I figured.” His voice was softer now, hesitant. “But I couldn’t let it end like this. Not without trying.”

His words landed harder than I expected, stirring something I wasn’t ready to face. I wanted to hold onto the frustration simmering in my chest, but it wasn’t anger—not really. It was fear. Fear that I’d let myself want too much, expect too much from us, only to have it all slip away.

I leaned against the porch rail, the weight of the day pressing down on me. “Aiden,” I said, my voice quieter now, almost unsure. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just… exhausted. And maybe a little lost. I don’t even know how to start making sense of all this.”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine in the dim light spilling from the kitchen window. “I’ve been figuring things out too,” he said, his voice low, tinged with emotion. “But I swear, Levi, I never wanted to hurt you. I care about you more than I know how to say.”

I believed him, but the truth was, I got hurt anyway. Still, what came out wasn’t an accusation or a bitter retort—even though my heart ached. “Guess I’ve got a knack for taking things the wrong way,” I said, my lips curving into a humorless smile. His mesmerizing eyes shone with something vulnerable, almost pleading, and it gutted me.

The wind rustled through the branches, filling the silence between us. Aiden’s brows knit together like he was working up the nerve to say something that might unravel us both. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began. “About what you said. About what you need. And about what I— What we?—”

“Don’t,” I said softly, raising a hand to stop him. “Please, Aiden. Don’t try to say what you think I want to hear. It’s not fair to you.”

He took another step closer, close enough that I could see the slight tremble in his hands before he stuffed them into his hoodie pockets. “I’m not trying to say what you want to hear,” he said. His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “I just… I don’t know how to make this right.”

My chest ached, the weight of everything pressing down on me. “I know,” I murmured. “I just need to stop hoping for more than what you can give. And that’s on me, not you.”

He took a shaky breath, his hands still buried in his pockets. “Levi, I—” He stopped, his throat working as he swallowed. “I’m sorry if I made things harder for you. That was never my intention.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and noticed the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, the way his lips pressed into a thin line like he was holding back more than just words. “You don’t have to apologize,” I said, softer now. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He lingered for a moment, his eyes locked on mine like he wanted to say more. But instead, he nodded, his shoulders slumping as he turned and walked away. The crunch of his footsteps faded into the night, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before.

I stood there, staring at the spot where he’d been, the cold seeping into my skin. For a fleeting moment, I thought about calling him back, telling him how much he mattered to me. How much I wanted him to stay.

But I didn’t. Because wanting him to stay wouldn’t change what we were—or weren’t.

When I finally went inside, the house felt emptier than it ever had.