7. Aiden

CHAPTER 7

Aiden

Nicholas meant well. He always did. Letting me move into a stranger’s guest chalet instead of smothering under his overprotective wing had been his way of “compromising”—a compromise that followed a fight and left me with a simmering brew of guilt. He’d worked so hard to give me everything growing up. Showing a little gratitude wouldn’t kill me.

I shot him a text, thumbs moving before I could second-guess myself.

Me: Thanks for setting this up. I’ll make it work.

His reply came almost instantly.

Nicholas: You will. I know it. Love you, Aiden.

The corners of my mouth twitched despite myself, and I huffed out a breath, shaking my head as I typed back.

Me: Love you too, Nicholas.

The chalet wasn’t much—a bed, a bare desk, a closet, and a window framing the snow-dusted pines. Levi said it had “potential.” Sure. If by potential, he meant no personality whatsoever.

The bed was stiff under my thighs as I settled in, laptop balanced on my knees. Levi had asked for “Christmas-y.” Vague as hell. Did he want Nordic winter lodge? Rustic charm? Full-on Santa’s Workshop explosion?

I opened Pinterest and pulled up a couple blank design boards, filling them up with carefully chosen images—sleek holiday tablescapes, garlands cascading from mantels, fairy lights twinkling over minimalist wreaths. Reds, greens, golds. Cozy but cohesive. Levi didn’t strike me as a “glitter vomit” kind of guy.

My playlist of cheerful Christmas instrumentals hummed in the background. Every now and then, I’d catch myself swaying to the music, humming along, or bouncing a little where I sat. It was easier to work when I felt good—and decorating for Christmas? That was pure joy.

Time slipped away. The designs were coming together—enough that I sent Levi a quick text.

Me: Got some designs. Want to go over them?

Levi: I’ll be there in an hour. That work?

Me: Yeah, perfect.

An hour. Enough time.

I stood and stretched, my back popping from the hours hunched over. My eyes flicked to the bag in the corner, half-hidden behind the desk. Levi didn’t know, and I didn’t want him to. But the thought of ignoring it in my little space tugged at something deep inside me.

I slid the bag closer, careful not to scuff the floor. Quiet anticipation fluttered in my chest as I unzipped it.

Nicholas had known about this part of me since I was 15. It was hard to miss when I talked about it with zero shame. He never mocked me for it, but I didn’t miss the tight lines of discomfort around his mouth whenever the subject came up. That was okay. Nicholas didn’t need to understand everything about me to love me.

Levi, though? That was a whole different tangle of complications.

I shook my head and ignored the stash. No. I couldn’t go there. Levi was a walking poster boy for rugged farm life, all broad shoulders and quiet, thoughtful eyes. Dangerous territory for someone like me.

A plush blanket came out instead—a soft, deep blue that smelled faintly of lavender. It went over my lap as I settled cross-legged on the floor. I paused, my gaze falling to the trio of stuffies tucked neatly in one corner of the bag.

Rudy the reindeer, Penny the penguin, and Beau the bear. My heart squeezed, warmth blooming at the memory of Levi getting them for me. He didn’t know—couldn’t know—how much it had meant.

Carefully, I set them on the blanket beside me, where they could “watch.”

Next came my squishy penguin stress ball and the lavender-scented sensory patch. I pressed the patch to the blanket near my knee, its soothing fragrance already working its magic. Finally, I pulled out my coloring book, its pages a familiar comfort.

Markers and crayons spilled across the floor, their colors as bright as the pictures on the cover. The first page—a winter wonderland scene—called to me, and I answered without hesitation.

I colored with slow, deliberate strokes, the kind that made the rest of the world melt away. The soft click of the markers’ caps, the glide of the crayon against the page, even the way the lavender scent seemed to deepen as I worked—it all wrapped around me like a warm hug.

Rudy, Penny, and Beau sat beside me, their stitched eyes fixed on the page as if they approved of my choices.

My playlist shifted to something softer, gentler, and my voice joined the melody without thought—a quiet, almost shy hum as I filled the snow with soft blues and whites. Lines blurred, minutes passed, and somewhere in the swirl of colors, I lost myself completely.

It wasn’t until I reached for the next color and the lavender patch caught the edge of my laptop’s screen that I noticed the time. Fifty minutes gone by in what felt like five.

“Shit.” My voice cut through the stillness, sharp enough to make me wince.

I scrambled, stuffing everything back into the bag as quickly as I could without damaging it. The blanket was last, folded neatly before being tucked into the smallest compartment. The floor was clear, the bag back in its hiding spot just as the faint sound of boots on snow reached the window.

My heart raced. Not because of the rush—because of the thrill, the fleeting, secret joy of being in that space, even if only for an hour.

The knock on the door was brisk, solid, and my pulse quickened.

“Come in,” I called, my voice stronger than I felt.

The door opened, and there he was. Levi’s cheeks were flushed from the cold, and a faint dusting of snow clung to his dark hair. His jacket was half-zipped, revealing a navy sweater that hugged his broad frame, and his boots tracked a few melting snowflakes onto the floor. He hesitated just inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping the sparse room before landing on me.

“You’ve been working hard, huh?” His voice was warm, teasing, and it curled in my chest like a spark.

I stood, my hands brushing against my jeans as if that would settle the flutter in my stomach. I stepped back to make room.

Levi took a step, closing the door behind him. The small space seemed even smaller with him in it, his presence filling every corner.

“It’s not much,” I said, gesturing at the laptop. “But I’ve got a few ideas I wanted to show you.”

His lips quirked up as he shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it on the back of the lone chair in the room. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I motioned to the floor. “Here, sit.”

He raised an eyebrow but crouched down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. I settled beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

I opened the laptop and pulled up the Pinterest boards, my fingers flying over the trackpad. “So, I’ve been thinking about color schemes—reds and golds for warmth, maybe some frosted whites for contrast. What do you think?”

Levi leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine as he studied the screen. The contact sent a shiver down my spine, and I fought to keep my focus on the images.

“This is incredible. You pulled all this together already?”

“It’s just a plan,” I said, brushing off the praise. “If there’s anything you don’t like, we can change?—”

“No. It’s perfect.” He leaned in closer, his arm grazing mine.

The praise, the close proximity, warmed me in a way I didn’t expect. My gaze flicked to him, taking in the faint scruff on his jaw, the way his lips quirked when he was focused.

For a moment, a scene flashed in my mind—Levi sitting on the floor with me, surrounded by crayons and stuffies. Maybe he’d hold Rudy and make silly voices while I colored, or maybe he’d let me curl up in his lap while we watched a Christmas movie on my laptop. The thought made my cheeks heat, and I quickly looked back at the screen.

“You even thought about the flow of foot traffic. That’s... I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Levi’s genuine enthusiasm warmed me more than the blanket I’d tucked over my knees earlier. His voice held a note of admiration that made my chest tighten in a way I couldn’t name.

I forced a smile, trying to keep my tone light. “You’re good with these kinds of projects, right? Carpentry, painting, stuff like that?”

“Me and Nicholas both. We had to learn. You know, since...” My voice faltered, the words catching in my throat like they had no business being spoken aloud.

Levi shifted, his full attention on me now, his expression open and unguarded. “Since what?”

It was too late to dodge the question. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Since my mom died. Nicholas took care of me, and we figured out a lot as we went.”

The room seemed quieter after I said it, like the weight of those words had absorbed all the sound. Levi didn’t rush to fill the silence. His eyes softened, and he nodded slightly, giving me space without retreating.

I didn’t mean to keep talking, but once the floodgates opened, the words wouldn’t stop. “It’s been ten years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday. She worked so hard to make everything feel normal, even when it wasn’t. Nicholas picked up right where she left off. But it was different.”

Levi leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, close enough that the scent of cedar and pine reached me. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to fix it—he just was there .

“I was twelve,” I continued, my voice softer now. “Old enough to know what we lost, but not old enough to do anything about it. Nicholas was eighteen. He’d just gotten to college. It was supposed to be his time, you know? The start of something big. But instead, he came home. For me.”

Levi’s brows pulled together, a crease forming between them.

“He gave up everything ,” I said, the guilt twisting my stomach like it always did when I thought about it too long. “The dorm life, the parties, the… freedom. He worked two jobs just to keep us afloat. And all I did was… I don’t know, be a kid when I should’ve been?—”

Levi cut me off, his voice calm but firm. “Aiden, you were twelve.”

The words hit me like a brick wall, and I blinked at him, the knot in my throat tightening.

“You weren’t supposed to be anything but a kid,” he said. “That’s not on you.”

My hands tightened around the hem of the blanket, my fingers gripping the fabric as if it might anchor me. “Maybe. But it didn’t feel fair. It still doesn’t. He never got to… I don’t know, just be . And I hate that.”

Levi reached out, his hand brushing mine before settling on the floor between us, palm up. An invitation. No pressure, no expectation. Just there.

The gesture made my chest ache. Without thinking, I reached out, letting my fingertips brush his.

“You said you figured things out together,” Levi said gently. “Sounds to me like he didn’t regret it.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that Nicholas didn’t resent me for the life he gave up, but the doubt was always there, nagging at the edges of my thoughts.

“And you?” Levi asked, his voice dropping just a fraction. “Did you get to be ?”

The question threw me off, and I glanced at him, my brow furrowing.

“You were twelve,” he said again, softer this time. “Did you get to have those moments? To just… exist without feeling like you had to carry the world on your shoulders?”

The lump in my throat grew. I thought of the stuffed animals tucked in the corner of my bag, the coloring book I’d rushed to hide before he came in. The little things I held onto in secret because I didn’t know how to have those things openly anymore.

“No,” I whispered, the word barely audible.

Levi’s expression shifted, something protective flickering in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but his presence felt like a lifeline, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.

“I think about her a lot,” I admitted after a long silence. “The way she laughed at Christmas movies. The way she always knew when we needed her, even if she was exhausted. And the way she loved us, no matter what.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, shaking my head. “It’s stupid to still miss her this much, right?”

“It’s not stupid,” Levi said firmly. “It’s human.”

The warmth in his tone wrapped around me, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it.

“I should show you the rest of the plan,” I said, shifting gears before I said something I couldn’t take back.

Levi didn’t push, didn’t pry. He just nodded, his fingers brushing mine one last time before pulling back.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Show me.”

We shifted through the images together, our knees brushing occasionally. Every touch, every glance, felt magnified in the quiet of the room. And even though I knew I couldn’t let Levi into my world—my real world—I couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like if I could.