Chapter Six – Before the Flame
960 Words
The next few days passed in a blur of sawdust, meetings, and stolen glances.
Isla had started arriving earlier than usual—not that she’d admit it had anything to do with the man who worked with his sleeves rolled up and that quiet intensity that could silence a room.
She caught herself watching him more than she should.
The way Aiden moved. The way he measured twice and cut once. The way he wiped his brow with the back of his arm, jaw tightening when a plank didn’t line up right.
And the way he didn’t look at her when he passed her in the hall.
Like he was avoiding the fire.
Because he felt it, too.
She knew it.
And maybe that’s why, one afternoon, she pushed a little too far.
“Did you install the archway finish yet?” Isla asked, stepping into the west wing with her tablet in hand.
Aiden looked up from the floorboard he was replacing, his hair damp with sweat.
“Just finished it,” he said, voice gravel and sunlight.
She walked over to inspect it. “It’s... beautiful.”
He stood slowly, brushing dust off his jeans. “Thanks.”
She turned to face him, something fluttering in her chest. “You know, you could make a lot of money doing this in the city. Custom work. Architectural wood design.”
Aiden leaned on the beam beside her, eyes unreadable. “I don’t want to work in a place where no one looks you in the eye.”
She blinked. “That’s a little harsh.”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen it. Fake smiles. Empty talks. People who leave the moment things get real.”
Her heart stumbled.
Isla wasn’t sure if he meant her—or someone else.
“I’m not like that,” she said, softer than she meant.
Aiden looked at her for a long beat. “Aren’t you?”
There it was—the spark. The crackle of heat between them like dry tinder.
“You say you don’t like me,” she whispered, “but you never look away.”
His jaw flexed. “That’s the problem.”
They stood inches apart now. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
And maybe she should’ve stepped back.
But she didn’t.
She stood her ground.
“What are you afraid of?” she asked.
“That if I touch you,” Aiden said, voice low, “I won’t want to stop.”
Her breath caught. The words were barely a whisper between them.
But then the sound of tools clattering in another room broke the moment.
Aiden pulled back. “We should get back to work.”
“Right,” Isla said quickly, stepping away. “Of course.”
But as she walked down the hall, her fingers trembled—and she realized:
This wasn’t a slow burn anymore.
This was a wildfire waiting for one reckless match.
---
Later that night, Isla walked down to the shore.
She needed air. Space.
Clarity.
The moon shimmered over the dark water as waves lapped against the rocks. She slipped off her heels and walked barefoot along the sand, phone forgotten in her pocket.
The only sound was the ocean—and her thoughts.
Until she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned.
Aiden.
Wearing a dark jacket, hands in his pockets, eyes full of something sharp and quiet.
“I figured you’d be here,” he said.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied.
“Me neither.”
They stood there, both looking out at the endless sea.
“I’m not here to ruin Marlowe Cove,” she said suddenly. “I need you to believe that.”
“I’m trying,” Aiden said. “But I’ve seen what change can do to places like this. What it takes from people.”
She looked up at him. “What did it take from you?”
His eyes flicked to hers, vulnerable for just a second.
“Everything I thought I’d have,” he said quietly. “My dad. My plans. A life that wasn’t tied to this place.”
“And now?”
He shook his head. “Now I’m not sure I want to leave.”
Their eyes locked. The night hung thick between them.
Then—lightning split the sky in the distance, casting both of them in a flash of silver.
Isla jumped.
Aiden reached out, instinctively steadying her with his hand on her waist.
They didn’t pull away.
Her breath hitched. His hand stayed where it was.
And then—slowly, deliberately—he stepped closer.
But just before anything could happen, thunder cracked above them.
A sudden downpour began, cold and fast.
Isla laughed, caught off guard.
Aiden cursed under his breath and pulled off his jacket, holding it over her head.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand.
They ran up the shore, breathless and wet, laughing like fools. He pulled her under the eaves of an old boathouse, both of them soaked and shaking.
And for a moment—they just stared at each other.
Raindrops clung to Isla’s lashes.
Aiden’s shirt clung to his chest.
The world fell away.
Their breaths mingled.
He reached up, brushed a wet strand from her cheek.
“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.
“Then don’t,” she whispered back—but leaned in anyway.
And just when their lips were a heartbeat away…
He stepped back.
“I’m not doing this here. Not like this,” he said, voice rough.
“Why?” she asked, aching.
“Because when I kiss you…” His eyes met hers. “It won’t be a maybe.”
Then he turned, walking into the rain.
- Writer
