I make a groaning noise, and he squeezes me tightly.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t. I could sense something was different but didn’t know what it was. Not going to lie, I was glad for it. You made me put my bullshit to the side, and it felt so good to finally have you. But it makes sense why you needed me so badly then.”
I nod against his chest, and I wish Bram was here. His rumbling chest against my face as Ethan stroked my hair, that would be the dream.
But now, Max is a part of the mix. Where does he fit in this fantasy?
“Bram doesn’t know?” Ethan asks, even though he knows the answer. I shake my head against his shirt, not worried about my tear stains.
“I tried to ask what the issue is between them, and he only doubled down on me staying away from him. I’m worried that when he finds out, he won’t be able to handle it. I can’t lose him, but I can’t let this thing with Max go either. I need them both, and they hate each other.”
He strokes my hair. “If it helps, I do think the hate is one sided. Max doesn’t even seem to really know why Bram hates him.”
“He told you that?”
“Yeah. You really think Max has no idea?” he asks.
“He’s never said anything or acted like I was his scent match. So I don’t think so. I just can’t figure out how to tell Bram. There are times on the phone where I’m about to say something, and then I just can’t. I don’t want to mess up his mindset before his games, and I think I’m just so scared.”
“Do you want to tell Bram before you talk with Max?”
“I think I have to. Bram is big on trust, and as much as I know Max deserves to know I’m his scent match, I can’t start anything without Bram knowing. But the idea of telling him has been making me sick to my stomach.”
He kisses the top of my head. “You’ve been keeping this all bottled up for too long. I’ve got your back; we’ll figure this out.”
“How do I tell him, Ethan? I’m in love with him, and I’m probably about to break his heart when that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”
“If he feels anything like I do, he’ll get over it. They’ll have to figure their shit out. You’re worth the minefield, Sloane.”
Well, that just makes me cry more.
“Can you tell him?”
“I can, but I think this needs to come from you. Do you think writing a letter would help?” he asks, and I breathe through my nose and nod.
“That’s actually a pretty good idea. Let me go get a pen and paper.”
Ethan strokes a hand down my back as I go to my desk and open the top drawer, grabbing one of my favorite pens before grabbing my notebook, and I spill all my feelings on paper.
It feels cathartic and freeing, and I’m able to process everything without being interrupted or sobbing.
I hand it over to Ethan to read, which he does twice.
“This is perfect. When are you going to give it to him?”
“Does it make me a coward to put it in his locker so he reads it when they get home in a few days?”
“No, I think that’s a good idea. He’ll have time to process before he reaches out.”
I fling my arms around his neck and squeeze him close.
“Thank you, Ethan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Here’s to never finding out,” he says, squeezing me close.
For the first time in the last couple of days, it doesn’t feel like my world is going to come crashing down.
I don’t sleep, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. But I’ve got to swing by the stadium and drop off my letter.
