17. Aria

17

ARIA

The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops me as I push open the door to the café. The gentle hum of conversation mingles with the hiss of steam wands and the clinking of ceramic mugs, creating a soothing backdrop.

I scan the room, finally locating Quinn. He’s hunched over his phone in a corner booth, his brow furrowed in concentration. It’s a look I’ve come to associate with his genius mode.

As I approach, Quinn glances up, his face lighting up with a smile that causes an unexpected flutter in my chest.

“Hey,” I say, sliding into the seat across from him. The leather cushion is cool against my thighs.

“Hey yourself,” he replies, his voice warm and slightly breathless. “I got you a cappuccino. Hope that’s okay. I figured you’d need a pick-me-up after dealing with the daily grind. Get it? Grind?” He winks, clearly pleased with his coffee pun.

I can’t help but chuckle, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. “Wow, Quinn. That was truly espresso-nal.” I wrap my hands around the warm mug, inhaling the rich aroma. “It’s perfect, thanks.” The first sip is heavenly, the silky foam melting on my tongue and leaving a lingering sweetness. “So, how’s the salon coming along?”

Quinn’s eyes sparkle with excitement. He leans in, his enthusiasm palpable. “It’s coming together faster than expected. I signed the lease, and I’ve been working on the design. I’ve actually been dying to show you.”

He pulls out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. “Check this out,” he says, angling it toward me.

I lean closer, catching a whiff of his warm, woodsy scent—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely Quinn. The images on the screen show bare walls and open floors, a blank canvas full of potential.

“Wow,” I murmur, a smile tugging at my lips. “You have quite the space to work with.”

Quinn grins, his voice taking on that playful tone I’ve grown fond of. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Picture this—sleek stations here, cozy seating over there, maybe some soft lighting that makes everyone look like a million bucks. Think Cheers , but with less beer and more beauty products.”

I glance up at him, suddenly aware of how close we are. “You’ve really thought this through,” I say, genuinely impressed by the passion radiating from him.

He shrugs, a sly smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Well, you know me. Once I get an idea in my head, it’s like a hamster on a wheel, except this hamster is building a salon empire.”

“Hard to stop, huh?” I tease, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. The brief contact sends a spark through me, and I have to resist the urge to lean closer.

“Especially when I have someone inspiring me,” he retorts, his gaze lingering on me a moment too long to be casual.

I feel a flush creeping up my neck, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious. “Guess I better stick around then,” I say, my tone light but laced with suggestion.

“Guess you better,” he replies, his smile turning downright mischievous. “After all, who else is going to appreciate my hair-larious puns?”

“It looks great,” I remark, genuinely impressed. “You have a real vision for this place.”

Quinn meets my gaze, a playful glint in his eye. “I’m not the only one with a vision. Remember your sketches? They were amazing.”

I laugh softly, the sound mingling with the ambient noise of the café. “I still can’t believe I sent those to you. They were just doodles.” I sent of all my sketches. I swear I did it in my sleep. I woke up, and there were a bunch of messages from Quinn praising me.

“They were more than that,” he insists, his tone earnest. “I’d love for you to be a part of this, Aria. Not just as a stylist, but as a partner. We could make this a real sanctuary for omegas, a place where everyone feels safe, beautiful, and maybe even learns a few bad hair puns.”

His words send warmth spreading through my chest, but doubt nips at its heels. I can almost see it—a safe haven I never had before. I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I appreciate that, Quinn, really, and I want to be part of this, but I need to do it on my own terms and at my own pace. I have my own battles to fight, you know?”

Quinn nods, his expression understanding. “I get it. No pressure, I promise. Just… think about it, okay? The door’s always open, much like my vast repertoire of salon-related jokes.”

We spend the next half hour chatting easily, the conversation flowing from the salon to lighter topics. There’s a natural rhythm between us, a subtle flirtation that’s comforting rather than overwhelming. The clink of cups and the occasional burst of laughter from nearby tables punctuate our conversation.

As we finish our coffee, Quinn glances at his watch. “Do you want to see the space? It’s just down the street. I promise it isn’t just a hairbrained scheme to spend more time with you.” He waggles his eyebrows comically.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t suppress a smile. “Yeah, why not? Lead the way, pun master.”

We step out into the cool morning air, the bustle of the city enveloping us. Car horns honk in the distance, and the chatter of passersby creates a lively atmosphere. The salon is just a few doors down, nestled between a boutique and a bookstore. Quinn unlocks the door, pushing it open with a flourish.

“Welcome to what will soon be the best, omega friendly salon in the city,” he says, his voice full of pride. “Where the only thing we cut is hair… and maybe a few ribbons on opening day.”

I step inside, the scent of fresh paint and new beginnings filling my nostrils. The potential is undeniable, and as I walk through, I can almost see omegas relaxing in plush chairs, hear soft music playing, and smell the calming fragrances filling the air.

“It’s amazing,” I murmur, running my fingers along the smooth surface of the reception desk. “You’ve done a great job so far.”

Quinn grins, leaning against the doorway. “I still have a long way to go, but it’s getting there. With your input, it’ll be perfect. After all, two heads are better than one, especially when it comes to hairstyling.”

We continue exploring, our footsteps echoing in the empty space as we discuss ideas for the layout and décor. Quinn’s enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself getting swept up in the possibilities. There’s a moment where we stand side by side, looking out the large front windows, and the air between us feels charged, like we’re on the brink of something new.

For a moment, I let myself believe in this future we’re painting.

“Quinn,” I start, turning to face him. “I think… I think I want to be a part of this. I’m not ready to dive in headfirst, but I want to help, even if it’s just with ideas for now. This place… It could be something really special.”

His eyes light up, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing mine in a gesture that’s both casual and intimate. The touch sends a shiver down my spine. “That’s all I could ever ask for, Aria. Thank you. Together, we’ll make this place a cut above the rest.”

We linger for a moment, caught in the quiet thrill of potential and the unspoken promises hanging between us.

I want to kiss him. I can remember the way his lips felt as they caressed mine and the way he touched my chin and held me close.

I miss him.

The tension between us builds, electric and undeniable. Quinn glances at my lips, and I find myself leaning in. The air feels thick, charged with possibility.

He steps close, and I can’t look away. He did all of this for me, and I haven’t even taken a moment to comprehend what this might cost him—his job.

“Quinn.” I breathe his name like it’s sin on my lips.

Quinn’s eyes meet mine, dark and intense. “Aria,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. The sound of my name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine.

He takes another step closer, closing the distance between us. I feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the intoxicating blend of his alpha pheromones. My heart races, pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

“I…” I start, but the words catch in my throat. There’s so much I want to say, so much I’m afraid to admit.

Quinn reaches out, his fingers ghosting along my cheek. The touch is featherlight, but it ignites a fire under my skin. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw.

I lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed. For a moment, I let myself forget about the complications, risks, and potential consequences. All that exists is this moment and the connection between us.

When I open my eyes again, Quinn is watching me with an expression of such tenderness it makes my breath catch. Slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull away, he leans in.

Our lips meet in a kiss that’s soft and sweet, electricity coursing through my veins. It’s gentle, almost hesitant at first, but then Quinn’s hand slides to the nape of my neck, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepens. My hands find their way to his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I press closer. The kiss grows more heated as weeks of pent-up tension and longing pour out between us.

Quinn’s other hand finds my waist, and he gently backs me up against the reception desk. The cool surface presses against my lower back, while Quinn’s heat presses against my chest. A soft moan escapes me as his lips trail from my mouth to my jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Quinn,” I gasp, tilting my head back to give him better access. My fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as he nips and kisses along my throat.

He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath. His eyes are dark with desire, but there’s vulnerability there too. “Aria,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

His words are so raw and full of emotion that, for a moment, I laugh, slicing through the tension.

“I missed you too.”

As we step back, my phone buzzes in my pocket, the harsh vibration shattering the moment. I glance down at the screen, my heart skipping a beat as I see a message from Willow.

Willow : Call me as soon as you can. It’s about Noah. Cayenne found something.

A chill runs down my spine, ice replacing the warmth that had been building.

Noah. The name alone conjures memories I’ve tried so hard to bury. My mind races, replaying moments I thought I’d left behind.

How did he find me?

What does he want?

The questions swirl, threatening to pull me under.

My gaze shifts to Quinn, who’s looking at me with a curious tilt of his head.

“Everything okay?” he asks, concern flickering across his features.

I nod, forcing a smile that feels brittle. “Yeah, just… something I need to deal with. Rain check on that brainstorming session?”

“Of course,” he replies, and I see the disappointment on his face he tries to hide.

I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and quickly take a step back. “I promise,” I whisper, not really knowing what I’m promising him before turning around.

Cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I step out into the cool air. I dial Willow’s number, the phone pressed tightly to my ear as I wait for her to pick up.

“Aria.” Willow’s voice comes through, tense and urgent. “I’m so sorry to do this to you, but you need to know. Cayenne found him, and he is living in Puritan city as one Logan Pierce. Whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

I know that name. How?

The world seems to tilt beneath me, and I grab onto a lamppost to steady myself. The cold metal bites into my palm, grounding me. Logan—Noah—is back, and from the sound of Willow’s voice, he’s closer than ever. Memories flood back of his controlling behavior, the subtle threats, and the way he made me doubt myself. The fear I thought I’d left behind comes rushing to the surface, threatening to overwhelm me.

I can feel the walls closing in around me, even though I’m out in the open. Cars buzz by, their engines a dull roar in my ears. Birds chirp, oblivious to the way my world is crumbling. Everyone going about their business, even though fear freezes me to the spot.

My phone clatters to the ground, the sound muffled by the blood rushing through my ears. My shoulder bumps into someone, the contact jolting me.

“Sorry,” I mutter, not really seeing them.

“Aria?” Quinn’s voice cuts through the fog of panic, and then he’s in front of me, his face swimming in my tears.

“You didn’t leave,” I murmur, my voice small and shaky.

“I wanted to make sure you got home alright. Looks like my timing was im-peck-able.” His attempt at humor falls flat in the face of my distress. Quinn’s hands are on my shoulders, steadying me. His touch anchors me to the present, pulling me back from the edge of panic. “Aria, what’s wrong? What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost… or a really bad haircut.”

I blink, trying to focus on his face. The world slowly comes back into focus, the sounds of the city rushing back in. “I… I’m not sure,” I lie, unable to voice the truth. How can I explain the terror that’s gripping me?

Quinn’s brow furrows deeper, his eyes searching mine. “You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hands moving to rub my arms gently. The warmth of his touch seeps through my clothes. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet, okay? No strings attached, just a friend helping a friend.”

I nod, allowing him to guide me back toward the salon. As we walk, I bend to retrieve my fallen phone, wincing at the cracked screen. Willow’s voice is still coming through, calling my name faintly.

Once inside, Quinn flips on the lights, the sudden brightness making me squint. He leads me to a chair, the plastic cool against my back. He crouches in front of me, placing his hands on my knees, a comforting weight.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructs, his voice calm and steady. “That’s it. Now, can you tell me what’s going on? I promise I won’t make a single hair pun if you do.”

I take a shuddering breath, torn between the urge to spill everything and the instinct to protect myself—and Quinn—by keeping my secrets. “It’s… complicated,” I murmur. “Someone from my past, someone I thought I’d never have to deal with again…”

He isn’t happy with my reply. A voice whispers, You wouldn’t want them to lie to you, in my head, and I swear it sounds like Aunt Sara.

She’d be right.

Licking my lips, I press a finger to Quinn’s mouth just as he is about to say something. His lips are soft against my skin, and for a moment, I’m distracted by the sensation, but then reality crashes back in. “My ex is here. In town. Cayenne found him. He came for me.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. Quinn’s eyes widen, and a mix of emotions flashes across his face—concern, anger, and something else I can’t quite name. As the weight of my confession settles over us, I realize that everything is about to change. Again.

“Aria,” Quinn says, his voice low and serious, all traces of humor gone. “Whatever this is, whatever he wants, you aren’t alone. We’ve got your back, all of us, and this time, I fucking mean it when I say that.”

I nod, feeling a strange mix of fear and gratitude. As Quinn pulls me into a comforting hug, my body tenses involuntarily. The warmth of his embrace battles with the cold dread in my stomach, and my mind races, torn between the safety of this moment and the looming threat of my past.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest. His scent wraps around me.

Quinn pulls back slightly, his hands moving to cup my face. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, are now dark with determination. “We’ll figure it out together, step by step, like debugging a complex code. We’ll identify the problem, break it down, and solve it piece by piece.”

His words, framed in the tech speak that’s so quintessentially Quinn, bring a small smile to my lips despite everything. It’s so him, trying to make sense of this chaos in a way he understands.

“Okay,” I murmur, nodding slowly. “Okay, but Quinn, you don’t know what he’s capable of. What if?—”

“No what-ifs,” he interrupts gently. “We deal with what’s in front of us. Right now, that means getting you somewhere safe and letting the others know what’s going on.”

Quinn’s words are reassuring, but a part of me still hesitates. I’ve spent so long running, hiding, and trying to protect myself. The idea of letting others in, of potentially putting them in danger, makes my stomach churn.

“I… I need to call Willow back,” I say, glancing at my cracked phone screen. “She’s probably worried sick.”

Quinn nods, releasing me from his embrace but keeping one hand on my arm. “Of course. Do you want me to step outside?”

I shake my head. “No, please stay.” The words come out more desperate than I intended, and I see a flicker of concern in Quinn’s eyes.

With trembling fingers, I dial Willow’s number. She picks up on the first ring.

“Aria! Thank God. Are you okay? Where are you?” Her voice is tight with worry.

“I’m… I’m okay,” I say, though the tremor in my voice betrays me. “I’m with Quinn. At the salon.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Quinn? Okay. Good. You’re not alone. Listen, Aria, don’t leave Quinn’s side.”

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay.” It’s all I can manage, because right now, it feels that every time I feel a flicker of hope, Noah is there to shatter it all.