Chapter Thirty-Two: Firepit Confessions

The night air had turned cool, the sky above dusted with a scattering of stars. The resort's firepit area was mostly empty now, just a few leftover guests nursing drinks and quiet conversations.

Aria and Ethan claimed one of the big cushioned lounge chairs near the flames, their feet propped up, drinks in hand. The soft crackle of the fire made the whole world feel smaller, quieter — like it was just the two of them.

"I don't remember the last time I just… sat," Aria admitted, staring at the flames.

Ethan smiled, leaning his head back. "Same. Always feels like there's a meeting, a deadline, a crisis waiting to pounce."

"Or a Nate."

He chuckled. "God, that guy was the worst."

They both laughed, and the easy comfort of it made Aria's chest ache.

A beat of silence stretched between them, not awkward, but weighty.

"Hey," Ethan said softly, "can I ask you something real?"

She glanced over. "Yeah."

"What happened with him? With Nate?"

Aria's stomach tightened. She'd spent so long burying that mess. But tonight… she didn't want to be guarded.

"He cheated," she admitted. "More than once. Lied about it every time. Gaslit me into thinking I was paranoid."

Ethan's jaw flexed.

"I finally caught him red-handed at some stupid New Year's party. Left him right there in front of everyone. He tried to spin it after, but I was done."

"Good," Ethan said, voice low, protective. "You deserve better."

"I didn't for a long time," she confessed, staring into the fire. "I let people walk over me because it felt easier than fighting. But somewhere along the way, I just… stopped caring what anyone thought. That's when I met you."

He grinned. "Ah, so I'm your rebellion phase."

She laughed, nudging his knee with hers. "Maybe."

Another pause.

Ethan took a sip of his drink, then sighed. "My turn, I guess."

Aria turned to face him. "Okay, Cole. Spill it."

He hesitated, then said, "My dad left when I was ten. One of those 'going out for cigarettes' clichés, except he never came back."

Aria's heart squeezed.

"My mom worked two jobs to keep us afloat. I practically raised my little sister. I promised myself I'd never let anyone down like that. I built this whole image — the career, the arrogance, the control freak thing — because I was terrified if I stopped moving, I'd end up like him."

She reached over, threading her fingers through his. "You're not him, Ethan."

"I know," he said quietly. "But sometimes it still feels like I'm running."

They sat there, the crackle of the fire filling the space between words.

"I've never told anyone that," he admitted.

"I'm honored."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Guess you're dangerous, Lane."

She squeezed his hand. "Right back at you."

---

A little while later, Ethan stood and pulled her up. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

He led her down a winding path past the empty pool and over to the dock by the water. The lake was still, moonlight glimmering off its surface.

"Wow," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

"Told you," he grinned.

They sat at the edge of the dock, shoes off, feet dangling in the cool water.

"You know," Aria teased, bumping her shoulder against his, "if you told me six months ago we'd be here like this, I would've laughed in your face."

"Same," he chuckled. "I thought you were insufferable."

"You were."

"I still am."

She grinned. "A little less."

He glanced at her, expression suddenly serious.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured. "I'm not great at this — the feelings, the vulnerability. But I'm better when I'm around you. Less guarded. Less… fake."

Her throat tightened. "I get it."

"Do you?" he asked softly. "Because I think I'm falling for you, Aria."

Her breath caught.

There it was.

The words she didn't think either of them would ever say.

And yet now, under the moonlight, with his fingers brushing hers, it felt inevitable.

"I think I've been falling for you too," she whispered.

He smiled, the kind that wasn't smug or cocky, but honest. Real.

Ethan leaned in, his forehead touching hers.

"No more games," he whispered.

"No more games," she agreed.

And when he kissed her, it was different than before.

Slower. Sweeter. Like a promise.

Like home...