Page 80 of Aria

My parents, Lucinda and Robert Hayes, smiled as they approached us. They had flown in from Seattle after finding out about the accident. I didn’t see my parents often with my busy schedule and the cross-country distance, so it was always special when they came into town, even when the circumstances were far from ideal.

“Sweet Noah,” my mother said. She clutched my face between her hands, her assortment of rings and baubles pressing into the hollows of my cheeks. Mom was almost a foot shorter than me—a petite woman with striking silver hair and light green eyes. She stood on her tiptoes to plant an affectionate kiss along my jaw.

“Hey, Mom,” I greeted.

Dad slapped a strong arm against my shoulder. “Son,” his said. “We came as soon as we heard.”

My father was a similar height to me, hovering around six-foot-two. He had always been on the leaner side, but a prominent potbelly was beginning to protrude from his belt buckle. His facial hair had been graying over the years, and the wrinkles on his face grew more visible every time I saw him.

“I know, Pops,” I replied, watching as my son flew from person to person. Sam was being smothered in giant hugs and relieved kisses.

“I was really brave!” Sam declared. He held out the lollipop he had been clinging to on the drive home.

Chelsie appeared from the kitchen with Rosa close behind. “You’re home,” Chelsie grinned, bending down and holding her arms out to Sam. He ran full force into her embrace. “I missed the big entrance. I was helping Rosa with the lasagna.”

“That’s okay, Miss Chelsie. Daddy said to make sure I tell you thank you for my party.”

I sauntered into the living room, my eyes catching with Chelsie’s as she cradled Sam in her arms. The smile she sent me was brimming with affection.

“You’re very welcome,” she told Sam.

“Mi dulce niño,” Rosa cried, tossing her potholders onto the back of the sofa and pulling Sam into a tight squeeze. “Your arm! Misericordia de mi.” She did the sign of the cross while looking up to the Heavens.

“You can sign my cast, Miss Rosa.” Sam lifted his elbow as high as he could with a proud grin.

Smiling, I stepped over to the group. “Do you think you can get every person here to sign your cast, buddy?”

Sam’s eyes rounded at the challenge. “Good idea, Dad. Let me get my markers.” He raced up the staircase at record speed, disappearing into the play room.

Chelsie’s smiled bloomed brighter as she crossed her arms over her blush-colored blouse. “He’s a fighter, that’s for sure.”

“Mmm.” My answer was distracted while I studied her, her eyes still lingering on where Sam had vanished up the flight of stairs.

Chelsie had been a shining light during some of the darkest days of my life; a shoulder to cry on when I thought my world was falling apart. She had a way of peeling away my layers, one at a time, digging deep, and breaching every vulnerable, buried piece of me.

Chelsie Combs was so much more than she believed. She was a field of vibrant wildflowers. She was children playing on a sunny day. She was lightning bugs at dusk. She was lemonade. She was magic.

She was every little joy in life, all tangled together in her perfect smile.

“What?”

I blinked when she addressed me.

Apparently, I’d completely zoned out while gawking at her.

“Is it my hair?” Chelsie toyed with a brilliant blonde strand. “Is something in my hair?”

A grin pulled at my lips. “Your hair looks great.”

“You were staring.”

“You assume it was a bad thing.” Taking a small step forward, I leaned in and whispered, “I was just thinking about how pretty you look today.”

Color flooded her cheeks. She lowered her eyes, digging the tip of her pointed shoe into the area rug. “Oh… well, thanks.”

I found a strange satisfaction in the crimson rouge that stained her skin. Compliments never came easy for her, and there was something inherently charming about that.

Chelsie cleared her throat, slapping a hand along her thigh. “Well, I need to get the lasagna in the oven.”

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