I stand there a moment longer, watching him go, letting the magic of the night settle deep in my chest. Snowflakes drift lazily around him, glittering like falling stars in the lantern light.
And I know, without a single doubt, that this man has stolen every piece of my heart… and made it live again.
CHAPTER 22
Ethan
It’s Saturday, and Dex is driving me to the hospital so I can finally get this sling off and do my last check-up. Not being able to hold Summer with both arms has been driving me insane. Soon, I’ll be able to drive again, touch her with both hands, pull her into me whenever I see her. I can’t wait.
“What’s that big smile on your face?” Dex asks, tapping his fingers on the wheel in a rhythm that’s half drum solo, half restless energy. A mischievous smirk spreads across his face.
“Summer,” I say simply.
“And another one bites the dust,” he laughs, loud and unfiltered, the sound bouncing off the truck cab.
I glance over at him. Dex has always been the impulsive one, the kid who had teachers calling home every other week. Until the neuropsychiatrist figured out he had ADHD… and that Jude did too, just quieter, more internal.
Dex is the loud, restless, hyper-focused kind, the kind people misjudge on sight. Half the town is a little scared of him. But me? I know better.
Dex is brilliant. The guy can build a LEGO masterpiece while composing an original melody in his head, sketch a blueprint for a treehouse, and carry on three conversations at once withoutdropping a single thread. He notices everything, the way my shoulders tense when I’m stressed, the flicker of sadness behind a smile, the way a certain song makes my chest ache.
He’s the first one to see when someone’s hurting. The first to bring tea when you’re sick. The first to crawl into Grace’s bed with a flashlight and a fairytale book when she’s scared.
Yes, he’s loud, impulsive, restless, but that energy is a gift. It’s the same thing that makes him care too much, feel too much, live in full, bright, impossible color. The armor he wears isn’t because he’s broken. It’s because his heart is too big for the world sometimes, and he needs a shield to keep it safe.
That’s why his whole“never falling in love, never getting married” mantra always makes me shake my head. I know the kind of love he’s capable of. It’s deep. Fierce. Once-in-a-lifetime.
“You never know, little brother,” I say.“Someone might knock you on your ass and steal that big, beautiful heart of yours in a second.”
Dex laughs, a belly-shaking, unguarded sound that fills the truck.“And never be able to sleep with all the women I want? No thank you.”
I shake my head, smiling.“Don’t you ever get tired of meaningless sex?”
He raises an eyebrow.“Nope.” He flicks the blinker on.“I’ll be the best uncle to your kids and go home to a new woman every night. That’s the dream.”
I let it go.
Some things he’ll only learn the hard way.
I steal another look at him, the way his hand taps the dash, the way his eyes catch every detail outside the window. That energy… it’s part of what makes him Dex, and part of why I’ll always admire him.
We pull into the hospital parking lot, snow crunching under the tires.
Inside the exam room, the doctor gestures for me to sit on the table while he slips on his glasses and reviews my chart. Dex stands instead of sitting, shoulder pressed to the wall. Anyone else would think he’s still. I can see the subtle tapping of his foot, the way his eyes dart, taking everything in all at once.
“Alright, Ethan,” the doctor says, smiling.“Two weeks since the dislocation. Let’s take that sling off.”
Finally.
He helps me ease it off, and the cold air hitting my skin feels like freedom.
“You’ve healed well,” the doctor says, gently rotating my arm. Pain flares, sharp at first, then settling.“That’s normal. The joint is stable, but the supporting muscles are still weak. No lifting, no overhead movement, and no strenuous activity. Physical therapy starts Monday. Range-of-motion exercises every day. If you hear a pop or feel intense pain, call immediately.”
I nod, jaw tight. It hurts, but it’s the kind of hurt that means progress.
Dex shifts closer, pretending to study a poster of the rotator cuff muscles, but his hand drifts out to brush the spine of the anatomical skeleton in the corner. A small touch. A grounding one. Anyone else would miss it. I don’t.
“So he’s allowed to hold his girlfriend again?” Dex asks, smirking, his mask for worry.
