Page 84 of Building What's Meant to Be

He has enough on his plate today, so I leave out the details. “Nope. What about “Remodeling Lives’ for the show?” I also don’t want to revisit the past that keeps trying to buzz its way back into the present. In a way, my life was remodeled. Like on demo day, I pulled out the notion that the only place worth going was to the top and replaced it with being here, where I am...with Aiden.

He links his fingers through mine and swings our hands between us. “I kind of like ‘Constructing a Love Story.’”

“Ah, a story like a second floor. Clever.”

“And like our story. We’re building our love story.” His blue eyes penetrate mine.

My breath stops then he leans over with a smoosh before getting up and returning to work.

Again, my phone beeps, but I close my eyes, feeling the ghost of Aiden’s lips on mine. I wander over to the beehives for a long moment. This field is a place for running around and having fun, a place to commune with nature, with the bees and their honey. It’s a place of peace.

With Aiden and while here, I feel deeply connected to everything that matters. I don’t pick up my phone for the rest of the day, hanging onto the peace that comes from nature and hard work. From friendships and community.

At the end of the day, when we return to Toby and grill up dinner, I wander out to the field surrounded by woods. Over the tops of the trees, I can see the peak of the roof to Aiden’s new house. I turn my attention back to the hum of the bugs and the whisper of the wind in the leaves. I let out a calm yet courageous breath.

I’m about to tell Aiden how I feel. That I’m scared, not sure about the future, but that I love him...when he hollers at me.

“Don’t make any sudden movements.”

I look up and meet a pair of dark eyes. Now, all I feel is fear.

This is the part in the movie when the main character gets attacked by a werewolf, has to live with a facial scar on her otherwise ivory skin, and experiences the agony of the monthly shift into an untamable beast.

Chapter Eighteen

AIDEN

When I spot the mangy animal on the edge of the woods, I go full beast mode, pulling out my sidearm and prepared to end the wolf if it moves a muscle.

Thankfully, Tinsley goes still, and almost imperceptibly, she backs up.

Just then, tires crunch over the dirt in the driveway as a truck parks. I don’t tear my focus from the animal or my woman as I make my approach. I am laser-focused, and I don’t waver from my mark.

Granted, she struck an arrow right into my heart, and if anything happens to her, I could never forgive myself.

My senses are on alert as footsteps approach from behind. I pivot slightly so I don’t have a target on my back, nor do I take mine off the wolf. There are about five yards between it and Tinsley and Tinsley and me. My objective is to decrease the distance, get her to safety, and not have to fire a shot. However, I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her.

As I shift my position, a familiar female voice asks, “Aiden, what the flapdoodle are you doing?”

My voice is practically a growl when I say, “Mae, it’s not safe. Take the baby, go back to the truck.”

“Are you about to shoot that husky?”

“Mae, it’s not a dog. It’s a wolf and it’s going to attack Tinsley.”

She rolls her eyes. “It is not going to attack Tinsley.” Without another word, she marches through the field toward the animal.

I lower my weapon because no way am I going to risk a miscalculation with two women and a baby that I love in my line of fire. But I will throw myself between them and the wild animal.

I’m about to aim words of reprimand at my sister for endangering herself, the baby, and my girlfriend—her hatred for Tinsley has gone too far—when for the first time in recorded history, they seem to be having a civil conversation. Tinsley joins Mae at the forest’s edge.

She crouches down and extends her hand. The beast sniffs and approaches slowly. Every one of my instincts begs me to caution them, but I hold back because now that they’re so close, I don’t want to startle them and cause a bigger problem involving sharp teeth and who knows what kind of disease.

I’m a few paces away when Tinsley says, “Aiden, he’s a husky, not a wolf.”

“We’ve seen him a few times on our property. Taylor was worried at first, but Svetllama approved.” Mae smiles.

“You’re going on the judgment of a llama with questionable taste in men,” I mutter.

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