Desired by All and He Threw Away 102

Chapter 102 

Taylor POV 

The day winds down in slow golden pieces the kind that stick to my skin like warmth im not ready to let go of. 

the late afternoon sun slants across the field and paints everything in honey kids racing between booths volunteers packing up painted signs half empty coolers clattering as they are dragged across the grass. 

im still sticky with sweat from the last activity a faint smear of glitter on my forearm from the craft booth and my hair is a mess from the game of chase i didnt even mean to start. 

my legs dangle off the edge of a folding table as i sit and scroll through my phon event fade into a soft buzzing backdrop. 

ting the distant noise of the 

i can still hear kids squealing Aiden’s name like hes some sort of superhero in …kers and a wrinkled T–shirt. Maybe he is. At least to them. 

But what gets me–is what’s happening on my screen. 

Every post is the same. 

Him. 

And not the him the world is used to. 

Aiden crouched beside a shy boy, letting the kid show him–actually teach him–how to tie a yarn knot for the craft activity.the boy is giggling and Aiden’s tongue is pressed to the inside of his cheek in concentration like he is genuinely invested in keeping the yarn from slipping. 

a picture of him lifting a tiny girl both hands under her arms helping her dunk a basketball into a hoop twice her height.her ponytail is flying her grin huge and toothy. Aiden’s face is lit with a grin so unguarded so real it startles something in my chest. 

Short videos of him laughing, really laughing–shoulders dropped, eyes bright, head thrown back just a little. It’s a sound I know now. A sound I’ve learned without meaning to. A sound I shouldn’t know well enough to pick out from a crowd. 

People online are losing their minds. 

“Did you see Aiden Kincaid at the community event? I didn’t know he had that side.” 

“This doesn’t match Ella’s stories at all.” 

“He looks… good? Like, good–good?” 

“wait so whos been lying all this time?” 

my thumb hovers over a clip of him wiping a streak of cupcake frosting off a kid’s cheek.the moment freezes there his eyes soft with something almost disbelieving like hes not used to being touched without expectation. 

Not used to tenderness landing on him instead of bouncing off. The world noticed. 

They saw it. 

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Chapter 102 

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And now they’re confused. 

They’re trying to piece together a version of him that isn’t built from tabloids and outrage and Ella’s dramatic retellings. A version that doesn’t align with the disaster everyone assumed he was. 

Behind me, I hear his voice somewhere near the volunteers–low, warm, threaded with exhaustion and something lighter. People respond with laughter, easy gratitude. Not fear. Not hesitation. Not celebrity- distance. 

the breeze carries the smell of grilled corn sunscreen and trampled grass. kids run past with sticky fingers and melting popsicles still giddy from sugar and prizes. 

but all i can feel is this strange surreal stillness in my chest.Like today cracke people weren’t supposed to see. 

ething open.Something 

i stare at my phone as the same clip loops a third time.Aiden lifts the little girl up again her socks falling down around her ankles. He laughs when she wiggles too much. 

The man in that video… that man is not the one who dominates headlines with controversy. He’s not the one Ella describes like he’s carved out of arrogance and bad decisions. 

He’s- 

God, he’s someone else entirely. 

Someone softer. 

Someone patient. 

Someone careful with the people around him. 

Someone I know. 

i sense him before i see him some shift in the air some awareness skimming across my skin.when i look up hes stepping out from the cluster of volunteers moving toward me with slow tired steps. 

his hair is a mess pieces sticking out in directions that make him look younger more undone.his shirt is wrinkled and streaked with paint and dirt from kids tugging on it all day. 

but its his expression that hits me hardest. 

He scans the field, then finds me. And in the second our eyes meet, everything else around us seems to fade. Not entirely—just enough to make the edges blur. Enough that the moment lands heavier than it should. 

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