I nodded.
"So tell me more," Ethan said, picking up his fork. "What's he actually like? Besides being your rowing soulmate."
"He's—intense. Everything he does is a hundred percent. And he's got this edge. This anger that's always under the surface."
"Hot."
"Shut up."
"I'm not wrong though."
"He sees through bullshit," I continued. "Calls me on my shit. Doesn't let me hide behind the Harrington thing." I paused. "That's terrifying. But also—it feels good. Being seen like that."
"Have you told him you love him?"
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"Do you love him?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
"I don't know," I said finally. "I've never—I'm not sure I know what that feels like."
"Let me ask differently." Ethan's voice was gentle. "When you think about your future—about what you actually want, not what your father wants—is Liam in it?"
I didn't have to think about it.
"Yeah."
"Then you love him."
The words sat between us on the table next to the bad pancakes and the burnt coffee.
"That simple?" I asked.
"That simple."
I picked up my coffee. Drank. Set it down.
"I'm terrified," I said. "That I'll tell him and he'll leave again. Choose safe. Choose Emily."
"He kissed you back tonight," Ethan said. "In a hallway where anyone could see. That's not choosing safe."
"What if Emily tells everyone?"
"Then she tells everyone."
"Ethan—"
"If she does, you deal with it. Together." He held my gaze. "You can't control what she does. You can only control what you do."
"Which is?"
"Show up tomorrow. Row with him. Let him know you're not going anywhere." He paused. "And go slow. Don't push him to come out or make big decisions. Just be there."
I nodded.
"Guess what?" Ethan asked.
