Chapter 93 Aslan
Aslan
We ended up near the town’s Christmas tree. Having hot cocoa from a thermos, snuggling under a soft blanket. As it reached midnight, the crowd grew thicker, the lights brighter.
It was so beautiful!
I missed home. Missed my mom, my friend Kate, my familiar places…
I had been dealing with a lot the past few days, and the stress was taking its toll on my health. I needed to slow down for a day, and even though today started as weird as fuck and has lasted a lifetime, the second half had been incredible.
I couldn't believe Aitor planned an evening for us. For me…
My heart was kinda overwhelmed as we held hands under the twinkling lights, like in a fairytale.
A small choir had gathered near the tree, their voices rising softly through the cold air, as Aitor and I stood there for a while just listening, his shoulder brushing mine, his fingers still laced with mine inside our gloves.
My heart already felt too full. This night had been so stupidly perfect it almost didn’t seem real. I hadn’t known Aitor could be like this—so loving, so attentive, so openly caring that every new thing he did felt like another slow death to my emotional stability.
And then Helena had happened.
The memory hit like a stain I couldn’t quite wash away. The hatred in her voice, the disgust, the way she had looked at us like we were something wrong, something that shouldn’t exist. It had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, not just because of her, but because of him.
Garrett.
The way he seemed so scared of her. The way something in him seemed to shrink under her presence, even when he tried to stand his ground. I could see why now. That woman was goddamn scary, and it was clear that whatever hold she had over him ran deeper than I could comprehend.
And somehow, that still got to me.
Still hurt.
I clenched my jaw slightly, forcing the thought away. I couldn’t let him get into my head again.
Not when Aitor had given me so much tonight.
I barely noticed the choir’s organizer approaching until she smiled at him and asked, “Excuse me—are you Aitor Castro?”
He blinked and looked at her. “Yeah?”
“We’ve heard you play before,” she said, hope bright in her expression. “Would you be willing to join us? Just one piece?”
He hesitated immediately, like his first instinct was to refuse, so I squeezed his hand gently. When he looked at me, I was already smiling.
“Please?” I asked softly.
A quiet laugh escaped him, warm and helpless and so fond it nearly melted me on the spot. “For you, my angel.”
Someone handed him a violin, and I watched him step forward, the noise around us dimming the second he tucked it beneath his chin. Then he started to play.
The melody was soft at first, warm and familiar, and the whole square seemed to shift around it. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Under the lights, with the fire reflecting in his dark eyes, he looked unreal. He didn’t glance at the crowd, didn’t play to impress them, didn’t seem to care they were even there. His eyes kept finding mine, and after a few seconds it honestly felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. There was just him, and the music, and the impossible feeling that he really was doing this for me.
When he finished, people clapped and called out for another. He didn’t seem flustered by it at all. He just walked toward me slowly, violin still in hand, and leaned close enough to murmur, “What do you want?”
My stomach flipped. “Oh Holy Night,” I whispered near his ear.
He smiled and lifted the bow again. The second piece was softer, slower, and when he reached me this time, I started to sing. The sound of his violin wrapped around my voice so naturally it almost scared me. The crowd quieted little by little until it felt like the whole square had stilled around us. I should have been embarrassed. I should have noticed all the people watching. Instead, all I could focus on was the way Aitor looked at me while he played, like I mattered, like I was worth every note.
By the time we finished, the applause felt far away, like something happening in another life. I was still smiling when a voice cut through everything.
“Aitor!”
I turned instinctively with him as his hand slipped from mine. My heart dropped the second I saw Linnea.
I didn’t know her intimately, not the way he did, but I knew enough. I knew what she meant to him. I knew there had been years of history there, years of longing I could never compete with, years that existed long before I had stepped into his life and complicated everything, and ironically enough, she kept showing up every time we felt closer.
The moment he saw her, something in his face changed. It was subtle, but I caught it, and that was enough to make my chest go tight.
She walked toward us, smiling, graceful and effortless, like she belonged to some other world entirely. “I didn’t know you’d be playing here.”
“I didn’t either,” he said.
“We need to coordinate next time,” she replied, stepping closer. “If I’d known you were coming, you could’ve joined me earlier at the theater. We could’ve prepared something together.”
Something ugly and small twisted inside me. I could see it too easily—the two of them together, perfect and polished and talented in a way that made me feel suddenly, painfully ordinary. Before I could stop myself, I stepped back.
Then she took his hands.
It was casual. Familiar. Natural in that way that only comes from having done something a hundred times before, and I hated how much that tiny movement got under my skin.
“Some of the musicians are gathering downtown after this for an after-hour party,” she added, tugging him gently. “Come with us.”
I looked down, already bracing for it, already telling myself not to be dramatic, not to ruin this, not to act like I had any right to stand between him and the girl he had loved forever. I could get a ride back. It would be fine. He didn’t owe me the rest of his night just because he’d given me a beautiful one.
When I forced myself to look up, I saw the conflict on his face immediately. The hesitation. The pain. That hurt more than if he’d just smiled and gone.
For a second, none of us moved. Then he stepped back.
Not away from me.
Toward me.
His hand found mine again, firm and certain, and the next thing I knew he was pulling me back to his side like letting go had never even been an option.
“Thank you,” he told her, meeting her eyes, “but Aslan and I have plans.”
My breath caught so hard it almost hurt.
He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me in against his side without hesitation. “We’re on a very important date tonight,” he added, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “Our first Christmas.”
Something that looked a lot like grief and regret flickered across her face, though it was gone almost immediately. “Oh, of course,” she said smoothly. “He can come too, you know. It’ll be fun.”
I looked down again before I could help it, already ready to tell him it was okay, that he should go without me.
“Thank you, Linnea,” Aitor said, softer now, “but tonight it’s just us.”
Then, before I could even process the words, he leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn’t a big kiss. It wasn’t dramatic. It was simple and brief and absolutely devastating in the way it landed. Intentional. Certain. Public enough that there was no mistaking what he was doing, who he was choosing, who he wanted standing beside him.
When he pulled back, I just stared at him.
He hugged her quickly after that, returned the violin, and guided me away from the crowd toward the quieter edge of the square, near the fire. The noise faded behind us. The lights blurred. I was still trying to catch up with my own heartbeat when he pulled me into his arms.
“Are you sure?” I asked quietly. “You didn’t want to go?”
He didn’t even pause. “Not even a little.” He brushed his lips against mine again, softer this time, like he was answering every fear I hadn’t said out loud. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here with you.”
Aitor had a beautiful heart, but he couldn’t hide a thing.
And God help me… I wasn’t sure either of us believed that.