“He was talking about you,” I say, frustration creeping in despite myself. “I stopped it.”
She exhales slowly, leaning back against the swing. “Ethan… I’m used to it.”
My hands curl into fists in my pockets. “You shouldn’t be.”
She tilts her head. “It’s a small town. People talk. They always have.”
“You don’t know what he was saying,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You shouldn’t have stopped me. I should’ve killed him, for what he said.”
Her eyes soften with understanding.
“That’s sweet,” she says quietly. “But I know exactly what they say.”
I look at her sharply.
“They’ve been saying it for years,” she continues. “About me. About us. About you.”
My chest tightens painfully.
“I don’t want you to get into fights,” she adds. “But… thank you. For standing up for me.”
She reaches out then, her fingers brushing my wrist.
The contact stills me completely.
Something shifts inside my chest, a truth clicking into place with brutal clarity.
I’m angry because this is my fault. Because I gave them permission. I hurt her loud enough that the town still echoes with it.
I look back up at the sky, blinking hard.
“I hate that you’re used to it,” I said quietly.
She squeezes my wrist once, then lets her hand fall back into her lap.
The swing rocks gently between us.
For a moment, neither of us speak.
Then she moves, like she’s finally come to a decision.
She reaches for my hand again, fully this time, and laces her fingers through mine. She leans closer, her shoulder brushing my arm, her presence warm and undeniable.
The night seems to hold its breath.
Chapter 60
Ethan
I turn toward her slowly.
She’s close enough now that I can see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her lip’s part slightly when she inhales. Her eyes flick down to my mouth, then back up to meet my gaze.
That’s all it takes.
Every quiet moment, every almost.
Every restraint layered on restraint.
