All Chapters of Reclaiming Aria : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Aria hadn’t changed out of her oversized hoodie in three days. Her hair was a messy knot on top of her head, her glasses slipping down her nose as she paced the living room floor—again. The local paper sat mockingly on her kitchen counter. Front page. Right above the fold. “Dorsey Legacy Secures Small Town Royalty” Beneath the headline was a photo of Mason down on one knee, beaming like a man who’d just won the lottery. And next to him—her. Frozen, overwhelmed, saying yes before her mind had even caught up with her lips. Her smile was soft. Her eyes, glassy. Her hand rested on her chest, while Mason cradled her waist and leaned in for the kiss that stole her breath—and her freedom. She hadn’t read the article. She didn’t need to. The title said enough. Her stomach turned again, the same nauseous roll she’d felt that night. Say something. Say anything. But she didn’t.

The sun was just peeking over the hills when Kade slammed the barn door open, the morning air biting against his sweat-soaked shirt. He’d already mucked three stalls, unloaded feed, and repaired a broken section of fencing before most of his crew even clocked in. He wasn’t sleeping much, hadn’t since that night. Since her. Every time he closed his damn eyes, he saw her—wide-eyed in that restaurant, Mason kneeling like a smug bastard, and her lips mouthing yes. It played on a loop. Her eyes finding his right before she said it. That single look—shattered him. He grunted, throwing another hay bale onto the stack with more force than needed. “You tryna kill yourself, boy?” Kade didn’t look up at the grizzled voice. Old Joe leaned against the stall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed beneath his faded cap. “I’m fine,” Kade muttered, wiping sweat off his brow. “Work needs doin’, I’m doin’ it.” Joe snorted. “Work don’t need a dead man doin’ it. And don’t feed me that bul

The sun was a cruel, smug bastard. Aria groaned into her pillow as it sliced through the curtains, stabbing her straight in the brain. Beside her, Sloane let out something between a grunt and a whimper. “Why did we drink like we’re 16 and sneaking into the parents wine cellar?” Aria muttered, dragging herself upright. “Because we’re emotionally repressed and wine is cheaper than therapy,” Sloane croaked, face still buried in the blanket. “Also, you poured like you were trying to sedate a bear.” Aria laughed softly, holding her pounding head. “Come on. I need greasy food and coffee or I’m going to die.” They threw on hoodies and sunglasses like two hungover fugitives and trudged downtown to the diner—The Hollow Griddle, Calloway’s beloved greasy spoon, nestled right on Main. The old bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, and the comforting smell of sizzling bacon, buttery toast, and endless pots of burnt coffee wrapped around them like a hug from someone who’d seen so

The bell over the door chimed as Aria stepped into the bookstore, the familiar scent of worn pages, vanilla candles, and a hint of cinnamon wrapping around her like a warm hug. Shelves were half rearranged, a table near the front cleared off for a display, and in the corner, Mrs. Langley—the seventy-something bookstore owner with a sharp tongue and an even sharper sense of style—was already directing chaos with a clipboard in hand. “You’re late,” Mrs. Langley said without looking up, pencil tucked behind her ear. “And you brought backup. Lord help me.” Sloane trailed behind Aria, holding two iced coffees and chewing her gum like a menace. “I’m her emotional support bestie. You’re welcome.” Mrs. Langley smirked. “You’ll be my support when you alphabetize the entire poetry section.” Aria laughed, setting her bag down behind the counter. “Alright, what’s left?” “We need signage, we need a raffle table, and for the love of this town’s nonexistent budget, we need a miracle.” Mrs. Lang

The sun was high, casting a golden haze across the storefronts, the kind of light that made the dust in the air shimmer. Kade leaned against the side of his truck, arms crossed, sweat still clinging to his skin from the morning’s work. He didn’t plan on seeing her—not really—but when he spotted that familiar sway of her hips across the street, something inside him snapped taut. She was there again—like fate was playing a cruel game. Her sundress swayed in the breeze, those bare shoulders glowing under the sun. And Kade couldn’t hold it in anymore. He crossed the sidewalk like a man heading into battle. “Aria,” he said, breath sharp. She turned slowly, face unreadable. “Kade.” He shoved a hand in his back pocket, jaw clenched. “I need to talk to you.” She didn’t budge. “Why were you helping my dad and never told me?” Kade blinked. “What?” “My father told me you’ve been checking in. Helping him. For years. You didn’t say a word to me. Why?” He looked down. “Because I did