AARON WALLACE POV

As I burst through the front door, rushing to get a car while tuning out Harold's voice, I felt a sudden shove against my chest.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" It was Kyle, holding a car key.

"Goddamn it," I hissed, shoving him aside before kicking the front tire of the parked Bentley in frustration.

"Okay, stop it, man." He grabbed me, pinning me against the car. "Are you really okay?"

"Drive. I'm going to Lively." I pushed him again, but he held his ground.

"Aaron, seriously, let her go."

This time, I broke free with a shove.

"If you won't take me, I'll go myself." I scanned for a car around the driveway, but the easiest option was the Bentley, with the key present in his hand.

"Get in." He gave in, and I circled, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door just as he did. He looked over at me, hesitation lingering without starting the engine.

He wants to talk. Okay, here we go.

"I've ordered the DNA test," I confessed.

"Oh," he murmured, his voice trailing off into a contemplative silence. "Were the results in yet?"

"No," I whispered, my heart heavy.

"I figured that might be why you seemed so downcast." He tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but it fell flat.

"My mother was behind the Beaumont situation," I replied with a steely resolve. "Liv overheard her."

Their capabilities frightened her. The fear in her eyes from earlier remains vivid in my mind whenever I close my eyes.

"So, she wants nothing to do with you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You could say that." My chest tightened.

"She'll come around. Just give her some time. What happened—and the news—was devastating for her family."

"She took money from my mother for a way out, betraying what I believed was real." A tear slipped down my cheek. "The ring is gone now. Maybe you, Mason, or Dane, can keep it for your future esteemed partners when I return it to Grandpa."

"Nothing like that will happen," he reassured me, though he knew I spoke the truth.

"It's over, Kyle."

"What do you say we grab some drinks?" he suggested in my despair. When I didn't respond, he started the car, pulling away from the driveway.

Instead of heading to Kelby's, Kyle drove us to the country club bar and had Carol clear the room for us. But somehow, after a few drinks, he finally heard my plea and took me to Kelby's. The drive felt wrong; I was barely myself, and I knew he was too—he had also had too much to drink. On top of that, it was pouring rain. I only pray he doesn't crash us, for my seatbelt wouldn't even latch. This was all wrong, something a rational mind would be against, but none of us was rational.

The street by Kelbys was quiet, the rain rhythmically splattering against the asphalt and the parked cars lining the road. We stayed in the car for what felt like an eternity, watching the small house with the pool I had once set up in their backyard as a gift for Bubble, now dismantled and placed in the front, making it free for anyone to take. All I could think of was Lively, frustratedly disassembling the barriers and tossing things out for me to see, trying to convince me she wanted nothing to do with me.

Time drifted in silence until Kyle succumbed to sleep in the driver's seat. With the chance presenting itself, I got out of the car, relieved to be free from the stifling sensation, now that he couldn't hinder me.

I'm acutely aware I am inebriated; my unsteady footsteps felt like an affront, making the climb to the porch feel similar to scaling a mountain. When I finally reached the door, I was breathless.

It was a mess, yet a triumph at the same time. I knocked—perhaps harder than necessary.

"LIVELY KELBY?" I called, maybe a touch louder than intended.

Silence... Except the sound of the rain.

"COME OUT! I AM ON YOUR PORCH IN THE RAIN!" My voice soared higher than I'd hoped once more.

The house remained cloaked in darkness, casting an eerie stillness. It shouldn't be that late, so I glanced at my wristwatch, but the numbers merged confusingly in my sight.

Okay, that wasn't helpful.

"LIVELY KELBY, I KNOW YOU'RE NOT ASLEEP!"

A flashlight flickered, and the door creaked open, leaving me in suspense until she stepped outside, gently shutting the door behind her.

Clutching a flashlight and wrapped in a pink robe, her wide eyes brimmed with concern. "What the hell, Aaron?" she exclaimed, seizing my arm and leading me down the steps into the rain, guiding us to a small tree that offered scant shelter.

I suck in air; the rain making it hard to breathe. "Are you happy? I came back for you in the rain, too. It's a draw now."

She scanned the area, brushing my remark as she sternly asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Prioritizing you," I confessed. Raindrops streamed down her face as her small arms embraced her. And despite the toxic substance in my system, she was, regardless, the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever beheld. "You said I'm not capable of that. Here I am, proving you wrong." I enveloped her in a hug, unable to resist. "I'm sorry. I didn't protect you enough." She smelled so intoxicating and delectable in the rain, the first ever fragrance that overshadowed the earthy petrichor I had cherished since childhood.

Even though I didn't track the time, I sensed she let me hold her long enough for it to warm us.

"Aaron, what happened?" she finally asked, stepping back. The sudden distance pierced through me, rekindling the chill in my bones.

"They said you didn't love me. Is that true?"

Her brows furrowed in confusion. I know we haven't vocalized it yet, but my emotions for her are unmistakably love. Call it what you will. Name it instant, but I believe in love at first sight—when someone immediately latches onto every inch of your essence, and the thought of losing them becomes terrifying. It may be a rare phenomenon, yet my emotions validate its existence.

"Are you drunk?"

Wrong answer, though I wasn't sure why I responded at all. "I realize I'm accountable for myself. Thomas Wallace said I'm fiercer, so I figured I deserved to drink too—Kyle does it all the time." I gestured toward the car where he was sleeping.

"Okay, who drove?" she asked, her tone alert as though we were facing a police siren blaring in the distance and we had contraband in our possession.

"That car doesn't have three seats," I drawled, chuckling at the obviousness of it.

She began rummaging through her robe, a look of intense focus on her face. I guess it wasn't as funny as I thought.

"I'll call Keenan," she announced.

"Not Keenan," I protested, but she ignored me. "Or you could kiss me," I suggested, reaching for her and tucking a strand of her beautiful hair behind her ear. "Marry me, don't hurt me."

She glanced up, locking our gaze with the phone pressed to her ear, still ignoring me. "Hello, um... You need to come. Aaron and Kyle are here, drunk."

"Not entirely drunk," I clarified, my hand falling to my side. She exhaled, murmuring a few 'Yes' to Keenan before hanging up and slipping her phone back into her pocket.

"You need to get out of the rain," she said, taking my arm and guiding me toward the car, clearly eager to send me off.

"I see you didn't move to your mansion."

"What mansion, Aaron?" she replied neutrally.

"You've become a wealthy woman." I stopped a few steps from the car, watching her as she turned away, brushing her hair back. "Is your love for me that easily discarded?"

"Aaron, stop. Bubble is awake," she chided firmly. I must have been too loud again.

"Stop calling him Bubble. His name is Aaron," I shot back matter-of-factly. "I know that. What's with the formalities, anyway?" I observed her for any sign of discomfort, and I didn't miss the subtle change in her expression.

"You seem suddenly sad," I said. "Didn't you name him after me when I wasn't around?"

"Aaron, just stop." She shoved me back, making me stumble and almost fall. But then her hands caught me instinctively, steadying my balance. "My parents don't know, and it's going to stay that way," she scolded, her voice heavy with emotion.

I understood; they would have kicked me to the curb early on.

"Is he—" I began when the silence stretched between us.

She stepped back, crossing her arms again, and I couldn't finish my question under the weight of her gaze. "I went through with the abortion, just as you cautioned me to," she said, swallowing hard, her head dipping slightly.

"Okay—" I started again, but she cut me off, gripping my arm and leading me toward the car.

"Get back in the car; Keenan is on his way."

"You're rushing to get rid of me." I forcedly stopped by the passenger side, blocking her from opening the door. She stared at me, her eyes barely blinking in the downpour. "The irony is that I would give everything I have and toil endlessly just to stretch out summer with you."

"Aaron—" She paused, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

She knew I was right. All I wanted was for her to listen, to let this seep into her thoughts, to give us another shot. She was my sanctuary, my place to feel human and whole—an ease I never foreknow but found invaluable. Even now, even as my heart burns from her rejection, her presence was dousing the flames and soothing the wounds. So I hoped, kept hoping, even with the faintest glimmer of possibility, that she would say my mother was lying.

"Come on," she urged, attempting to pull the door open while I stood in the way.

"You really never loved me. There I was, a fool, daydreaming of sun-drenched pools and cozy bedrooms, your favorite hues on the walls, and a kitchen to try your grandmother's recipes. I imagined a home filled with us, but you cater us this wreckage."

"Aaron, please stop," she interjected sharply, her lips trembling as she averted her gaze.

A tight knot twisted in my chest as I gazed at her, the weight of knowing I had lost her sinking in. It enveloped me in a deep sadness that made me want to scream, to throw things, to shatter the world around me. It pressed down on me, suffocating me, like I was drowning in an abyss.

Grandpa always said he fought to shield us from the agony of loss. He believed that losing could devour us, crippling our spirits and clouding our minds, disrupting the meaning of who we are. He was right. Watching Liv slip through my fingers like grains of sand was a loss so profound it felt like a silent death.

"Please, get inside; it's cold," she breathed. Her gentle voice would soon become a haunting echo, one I would replay endlessly as the door shut beside me.

I slid into the car and watched her dart back into her home. She thought that with the lights off inside, she could remain inconspicuous, yet her silhouette was unmistakable by the window the entire time.

That small flicker of hope kept me grounded, knowing she still cared. The thought of it anchored me, preventing me from spiraling into darkness. I watched her through the tainted glass. She remained there even when Keenan and Lloyd arrived.

Keenan assisted me into the other car, and we drove apart from my cousin, who was safe with Lloyd.