Page 53 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
He’s bundled into Rowan’s car with promises of bedtime stories and no more glitter, leaving me behind to clean up.
The air smells like hot glue, sea salt, and dusk.
I’m stuffing paper scraps into a trash bag when I hear footsteps behind me—steady, familiar.
I don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.
“Evening,” Aeron says, voice like rough driftwood and something deeper beneath.
I glance over my shoulder. “You lost or just stalking my glitter trail?”
His mouth lifts—just a little. “Came to check on the float. Make sure the monster population isn’t offended.”
“Only slightly,” I say. “The pink flamingo was Jamie’s creative vision.”
He steps closer, hands tucked in his back pockets, posture easy. Too easy. Like he hasn’t haunted every damn inch of my dreams lately.
“You walking home?” he asks.
I nod, hesitating. “Yeah. Figured I’d take the boardwalk. Air’s good tonight.”
He falls into step beside me without asking.
We walk in silence, the kind that isn’t uncomfortable—just full. The kind that holds words not yet spoken.
The boardwalk’s mostly empty, lanterns strung above us glowing soft and golden. Waves slap gently against the pilings below, the scent of saltwater threading through the wood.
I glance sideways. “You always this quiet?”
“Only when I don’t want to say something I can’t take back.”
My chest tightens. “That a warning?”
He shakes his head, eyes on the horizon. “A promise.”
We stop at the railing near the end, right where the planks creak like they remember our weight from years ago.
He leans on it, arms folded, and I match him, shoulder to shoulder but not quite touching.
The tension’s there. Buzzing. I could almost swear it’s humming in the air between us.
“I saw you with Jamie,” he says quietly. “He thinks you’re cool.”
“I gave him sugar and validated his monster lore. Of course he does.”
Aeron smiles—real, soft. “He’s not wrong.”
I laugh, too quick, too sharp. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not.” His gaze cuts sideways. “But I could.”
Silence again.
He shifts slightly, bringing us closer. His arm brushes mine. Just a whisper.
And suddenly I’m hyperaware of everything—his warmth, the way he smells like cedar and tide, and the quiet rhythm of his breathing.
I swallow hard. “This... whatever this is... How do I do it without screwing it up?”
