“I got it,” Ethan said, his shadowy outline moving swiftly to flick on the lights. He turned to me with a faint smile. “You can breathe now.”
I sucked in a breath and gave a shaky, “Thanks” on the exhale.
The fire wasn’t completely out, I popped a few pieces of wood on, and the flames sprung to life.
Needing a comfort drink, I went to the kitchen and made a hot chocolate. When I got back to the sitting room, Ethan sat fully dressed on the couch, whiskey in hand, staring at the flames.
I slid down beside him, my gaze following the direction of his, and the silence was awkward. I searched for something to say to break the tension.
“Do I need to find your father and take him out for you?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a mistake.
“Little hard to do given he’s dead already.”
I was mortified I had made such a stupid comment. “Oh, Ethan . . . I’m so sorry. I . . .”
“Don’t be, I’m not. The guy was an ass.” He took a sip of whiskey.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked carefully.
He shook his head. “Nope.”
I’d put my foot in it, so I searched for something to say to make it better, to makehimfeel better. “Your mother, is she . . .” I trailed off, unsure of what I was going to ask—nice or alive or?
“Dead.”
“Oh . . . shit. I’m sorry, I . . .” I was wishing I hadn’t said a thing.
I placed my drink on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch. He sat his drink down, too, leaning back beside me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
“It’s alright,” he said quietly, “I made my peace with not having the best parents a long time ago.”
I peered up at him. “It must have been hard to let the pain go.”
“It was when I was younger, but it made me stronger in the end. If you hold onto anger and bitterness and hate the only person that suffers, is you. You can get mad, you can get even, or you can leave it behind. I let that particular hurt go, and I chose to move forward without the weight of their failures on my shoulders.”
“That’s deep for someone like you,” I teased lightly.
He smiled, not in the least offended. “I like going deep.”
I huffed a laugh and sank back against the couch. “You have a dirty mind.”
“Says the girl who on our first meeting told me she loved happy endings.”
We both laughed. My nightmare had faded like a distant memory, and I began to feel tired. My head rested on his chest, and his hand trailed softly against my hair. Tom would hold me like this after my nightmares. I never imagined a time he wouldn’t be there to do it, and I missed him so much it hurt. But the warmth of Ethan’s chest on my cheek, and the feel of his arm around my back, wasn’t awkward, it was almost like it was second nature, as if we had been sat this way a hundred times before. I closed my eyes and fell asleep against him.
When I woke, it was daylight. I was lying on the couch with a comforter over the top of me. Ethan must’ve covered me up.
The sweet smell of pancakes cooking filled my nostrils as scraping noises came from the kitchen. I swung my legs over the side of the couch and sat up, running my hand roughly through my messy hair, then stretched both arms up high and yawned so wide my jaw cracked.
“Morning, you’re finally awake.” Ethan held out a plate with two pancakes drizzled in maple syrup on it.
I took the plate from him. “Morning. Wow, Ethan. Careful, you may just make someone a good husband one day,” I teased.
“No one gets the keys to this heart.” He sat down and hooked an ankle casually over his thigh. “And besides, that’s a lot of orgasms the ladies of Church Heights would miss out on.”
I grinned, feeling a warm rush in my chest. “Aren’t you eating?”
“I already ate.”
