Page 27 of Forever Theirs

After flicking through several of the thumbnail-size photos, Aspen lowered the camera and once again turned her attention to our little town.

“There are a lot of houses.” She gestured to the rows of cabins set just off the road for a short walkway and mini lawn. “Does everyone who works for Uplift live here?”

“Yes and no. We all live here, but there are a few vacant cabins. Most are one-bedroom, but there are a few two- and three-bedrooms. Brandon built twenty, hoping the company would grow and need more help. It makes things easier if we’re all in one place with the machines and gear. Plus, we’re all transplants, so it gives us a sense of family, a community.” With zero hesitation, Aiden tossed his arm over Aspen’s shoulders, turning them and pointing to the building set at the end of the road. “That’s our general store. Brandon’s partners run that while he manages the company itself. We’re almost fully self-sustaining regarding food.” She nodded along, following where he pointed, fully engrossed in his explanation. “We like to use our solar-powered generators as much as possible, though that only works during the summer, since our nights are super long in the winter. We switch to the propane-powered one in the winter if needed, though that’s only if the lines from town are down. Plus, we have greenhouses for produce and livestock for milk and meat.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “This is way beyond what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” I asked, my voice a low rumble, which drew Aspen’s attention over her shoulder to where I stood.

“I think one of you mentioned small cabins, or maybe I just inferred that based on something else you said.” She gestured to the cabin to our right, which was Baylee’s before she moved in with Liam. “That right there is bigger than my apartment back in Seattle, not that it was anything to brag about. And you both failed to mention that they aren’t rustic or tossed-together log homes. These cottages are right out of aBetter Homes and Gardensmagazine and are fucking precious. Add in how this whole place is laid out, giving some privacy, and it’s like a perfect small town designed for a TV show.”

Turning all the way around, she smacked a hand to my pec with an eye roll. “You really should’ve prepared me better for all this adorableness.”

I didn’t process her words, too wrapped up in staring at the place she touched. Most strangers—hell, mostpeople—were too scared of my size and stern demeanor to get close to me, let alone hit me. My heart swelled with hope. Aspen wasn’t scared of me, which emphasized what she mentioned last night. She felt safe with me, and the way she molded against me when I yanked her into the random hug said those weren’t just empty words. She truly felt safe with me.

“It is pretty amazing,” Aiden said after a few seconds of studying her, then me with a wide smile. I flipped him the bird at his fucking meddling. “You should see the inside of the cabins. They’re set up so each person has their own space, no matter how many rooms. Each has a large living area, a wood-burning fireplace, and basic kitchen. Most of us normally hang out on the porches when we’re not working so we can visit with everyone.”

“Adorable. So adorable.” Just as she started to say something else, a flash of red and brown scurried across the street. It paused and poked its little head up to check us out before darting off up the steps of Baylee’s cabin. “What. Was. That?” Her high, excited pitch had me wincing and fighting the urge to rub at my ears.

“BamBam.” Aspen turned her big brown eyes my way, confusion swirling in their depths. “That was BamBam.” I pointed in the direction the lithe animal ran. “She’s an ermine.”

Aspen’s jaw dropped, opening her mouth wide. Snapping it shut, she mouthed the word over and over.

“I think you broke her,” Aiden whispered loudly behind his hand while poking a single finger against Aspen’s cheek.

Snapping out of it, she batted away his touch with both hands. “Forgive me if I’m in a bit of shock. I’m fairly certain somewhere along the bike ride, I fell off, sustained a concussion, and am now seeing things. Or I’m in a coma, dreaming that I’m in a damn Disney movie, because what the hell? Who has cute cottages in a remote village with tiny woodland creatures running amok?”

Aiden and I exchanged a worried and confused look. Fuck, maybe I did break her. Who knew explaining a slightly domesticated color-changing weasel would be the thing to push her over the edge into insanity? For most people, it would’ve been when we explained we lived with a whole community that enjoyed the poly lifestyle. For Aspen, it seemed the “adorableness factor” here was the breaking point.

She spun in a circle, gaze bouncing. “So, how do I do this? Should I sing to draw in the birds to land on my outstretched arms while I prance down the street with the little woodland creatures following me, ready to do my bidding?”

“If that’s what you want to do…” Aiden trailed off, uncertain if that was the right response. “I’m not aware of a bird that will come to you on command without being trained, but you do you.”

“Wait, no, I need a picture.” She reached into her satchel where she’d stashed her camera but stopped. “This is real, right?” Reaching out, she pinched my forearm. Well, she tried to, but I flexed, making the skin taut. With a frustrated noise, she whirled around to the unsuspecting Aiden and pinched his arm instead. He yelped and jumped away from the attack, rubbing at the spot she barely touched.

“I think you’re supposed to pinch yourself to find out if you’re dreaming or not.” I swallowed down the laughter and rubbed at my lips to shield my smile from the pouting Aiden.

“How dare you laugh at your best friend’s injury.”

I rolled my eyes. “No more pinching assaults needed, Aspen. This place is real. You are not dreaming or in a coma, nor do you have a concussion. BamBam is a rescue of sorts and runs around like she owns the place, begging for food from anyone she’s familiar with. Our resident veterinarian, Baylee, found her injured as a baby and nursed her back to health. Baylee tried to set her free once she was healed, but BamBam kept finding her way back here. She now prefers to eat food given to her rather than hunt and scavenge.”

As I spoke, Aspen’s smile grew in utter wonder and excitement, causing fine lines to burst around the corners. My breath stalled, my heart thumping hard in my chest as I took in every inch of her beautiful smile. Our gazes locked, making everything around us fall away. For someone who was always acutely aware of his surroundings, even when asleep, it was unnerving and amazing at the same time. It felt like I could finally take a full breath after barely breathing enough to stay alive for far too long.

“Come on.” Aiden lightly grasped Aspen’s elbow. “We can show you our place before we head over to the gear storage to shuffle through the supplies for the hike and?—”

“Don’t forget about the eye mask,” I muttered, slipping both hands into the front pockets of my jeans, suddenly self-conscious.

“You remembered?” Aspen turned to walk backward to face where I trailed behind her and Aiden, who pushed the borrowed bike beside him.

“Be careful,” I almost snapped, worry making my tone harsher than I wanted. “You could trip.” Rolling her eyes, she flipped back around. “And yes, of course I remembered. I plan to stop by a friend’s place to see if she has one lying around for you to borrow.”

Stop by, break in… all the same thing.

As we slowly meandered toward our place, the two of them, mostly Aiden, talked nonstop. Smiling to myself at their conversation, I took in our town with new appreciation after Aspen’s awe and astonishment at the homestead Brandon built for us. I knew it was special, but after a few years, the newness wore off until she reminded me how extraordinary this place really was.

“This is us,” Aiden said, pausing in front of our porch steps. At his gesture toward the white-painted cabin, I watched Aspen, studying her face for insight into her thoughts about the place we called home.

It wasn’t much in the way of size, a simple two-bedroom cabin that neither Aiden nor I took time to personalize to our tastes, so it looked like all the others lining either side of the road. The composite siding and trim were well maintained. We all pitched in every other year to keep the paint fresh and helped with other maintenance chores. Three sturdy wooden steps led up to the treated wood porch—so the snow and rain didn’t rot it year after year—which spanned the entire front of the cabin. To the right was a single three-person swing that swayed slightly in the light breeze while two plastic chairs sat just off to the side with a tiny table between them. That spot was where Aiden and I spent most nights so we could take in the mountains we hiked and rode daily, plus visit with the others in the community as they trickled in from various outings.

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