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The Cost of Evidence
publish date:
2025-05-26 10:20:35
Latest chapter
Reclaiming Aria Sunday Scatters & Quiet Smiles
Aria – POV The light hits me like a bitch. My head’s pounding. My mouth tastes like regret and gummy bears. And there’s an elbow pressed into my ribcage that’s definitely not mine. “Sloane,” I groan, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. “Tell me I didn’t make out with a blender.” She snorts beside me, buried under half a blanket and a very questionable tank top. “If you did, I think I dry-humped the washer. What even was last night?” “I remember wine. Laughter. Possibly humping Kade in the laundry room.” “Definitely. I walked in on that,” she mumbles into the pillow. “You’re welcome.” I roll over, wincing, my body sore in the best and worst ways. “Where are we?” “Kade’s bed,” she grunts. “Smells like cedar and bad decisions.” I laugh—then immediately regret it. “Ugh. Coffee. We need coffee. Maybe a resurrection spell.” “Hair of the dog?
Reclaiming Aria Terms of Possession
Sloane – POVThe sun’s warm but not punishing, the gravel crunching under my heels as I lean against the hood of Henry’s car, arms crossed, trying real hard not to keep looking at him.Spoiler: I’m failing.Henry Nichols. Used to be all knobby elbows and oversized glasses. Ran track like a deer on Red Bull and stammered every time I looked at him.This? This is not that boy.This Henry is tall. Calm. Lean in a deliberate kind of way. Built like he doesn’t advertise it—strength tucked beneath his fitted button-up and easy smile. He smells like cedar and clean soap, and I hate how aware I am of that.“Well,” I say, trying to keep the smirk out of my voice as I watch Aria and Kade disappear behind the screen door like they’re about to turn that old house into a fuckin’ crime scene, “you didn’t tell me this listing came with live-action porn.”Henry chuckles low in his throat. “I figured the view would sell itself.”“Mmm. You mean them or the kitchen?”“Depends,” he shoots back smoothly.
Reclaiming Aria The Island Agreement
Kade – POV The truck growls down the gravel lane, tires spitting dust into the fading light. I don’t bother with music. Her voice is still in my head—sweet, sinful, dripping in tease. Hardwood floors. Kitchen island. Porch swing that squeaks. My knuckles flex on the wheel. I see her the second the house comes into view. Sitting on the swing like she owns the goddamn sun. Legs crossed, curls wild, one bare shoulder peeking out from that loose blouse like an invitation. The breeze plays with her hair and she smiles up at me as I park, and it’s over. I’m out of the truck before it’s even fully off, boots hitting dirt, eyes locked on her like a man starved. She stands just as I reach her, and I don’t stop. I sweep her up—arms around her thighs, lifting her until her feet leave the ground—and kiss her like oxygen’s a thing I only find in her mouth. She gasps, and I take it—deeper, harder. Tongue brushing hers, hands gripping her tighter as she melts against me, wine-sweet and breath
Reclaiming Aria Drunk on Rosé & Real Estate
Aria – POV We’re still breathless from laughter when my phone buzzes. Sloane’s mid-rant about the tragedy of low-rise jeans making a comeback, but I’ve already glanced down at the screen—and I freeze. Kade [Thinking about how you tasted this morning.] [Thinking about how I didn’t get to finish.] [Thinking about bending you over the next available surface.] [You still sore, baby? Or do I need to remind you how good it gets?] Heat floods my spine like molten honey. My thighs clench. And I may or may not make a noise that sounds like I choked on my own soul. Sloane smirks. “Tell me he didn’t just send a dick pic.” “No,” I squeak. “Worse.” She grabs the phone, reads, and whistles low. “Well. Someone’s feral.” I slide it back into my bag with trembling fingers. “We need a task. A mission. A distraction before I end up dragging him into the back seat of his truck in broad daylight.” Sloane grins wide. “Perfect. Let’s find you a place.” I blink. “Today?” “There
Reclaiming Aria Signed, Sealed… Slightly Tipsy
It’s just past ten on a Saturday, and the air smells like sunshine and fresh bread. The little café off Willow Creek is tucked between a florist and a secondhand bookshop—white wrought-iron tables outside, tiny chalkboard menus, soft jazz spilling from the open doors. It’s warm, but not hot. The kind of morning that feels like it’s inviting you to stay. I’m already seated at a corner table, a flaky croissant in hand and my sunglasses slipping down my nose, when I spot Sloane strutting across the sidewalk like she owns the town in that black linen dress and those ridiculous heels she somehow makes look effortless. “God, I missed that smug little face of yours,” she says by way of hello, dropping her bag into the empty chair and immediately stealing a bite of my croissant. “You’re late,” I tease, handing her her own. “I’m fashionably frazzled. There’s a difference.” She waves for the waiter. “Two glasses of rosé, please. It’s past 9 a.m. and I’m emotionally unstable.” I snor
Reclaiming Aria Dust & Grace
Kades POV Sun’s high, heat thick and humming as I step out across the yard. Boots crunch gravel. Shirt still clings faintly to the sweat cooling on my back. My hair’s damp, curls stubborn at the edges—Aria’s fault. All of it. She’d kissed me on the porch, lips swollen, grinning like an angel in tight blue jeans and a soft white shirt. “Get to work, boss man,” she’d teased, handing me my coffee like I hadn’t just made her come twice and ruined my sheets. Then she’d headed off to the library like a damn angel. And me? I’m walking into the stables looking like I barely survived heaven. “Look what the cat dragged in!” Benny shouts from inside, leaning over a stack of feed bags with a shit-eating grin. “Afternoon, lover boy,” Tommy hollers from the loft above. I roll my eyes, lips twitching. “Y’all don’t got better things to do?” “Not when you stroll in looking like that,” Benny whistles, giving me the once-over. “That’s the strut of a man who didn’t even bother pretending
Reclaiming Aria Smolder
Kade’s POV He didn’t know why he kept the picture. Didn’t know why he still sat in the same damn coffee shop every morning like clockwork. Didn’t know why he needed to see her face—even if it was beside his. Kade downed the rest of the bourbon, jaw tight as he shoved the barn door open and step
Reclaiming Aria Prolog end: Trauma Bonds
The breeze tugged at the hem of Aria’s oversized sweatshirt as she sat curled beneath the old maple behind the school. Red leaves drifted down around her like quiet confessions, catching in her tangled curls and sticking to her damp cheeks. She didn’t want to be seen like this. Red-eyed. Sniffling
Reclaiming Aria Prolog continued: unexpected changes
About a year later: The scent of buttery pancakes and maple syrup danced through the hall, tugging Aria from sleep like a whispered promise. The house hummed with life—pans clattering, laughter echoing, music low and soulful drifting from the old kitchen radio. She stretched under the worn quilt
Reclaiming Aria Prolog: history
The fire cracked like old bones, sparks spiraling into the summer night. Sweat clung to Aria’s temples, curls sticking to her face as she hugged her knees to her chest. Jamison had built the pit with Kade just last week—two hours, six splinters, and a whole lot of yelling. Kade Calloway leaned ba
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