“You were being an asshole,” he says without heat. “And I proved to you once before that it takes a village to take care of someone properly, right?”
I stare at the bar top, at the rings left by a thousand sweating glasses. “She was sick. She was suffering. I couldn’t?—”
“I know.” Ethan’s voice softens. “I know why you did it. But Asher, you spent so many years trying to keep Lia safe that you forgot to live your own life. When she got better and didn’t need you anymore, you just… retreated. Bought that house from your parents and disappeared into it.”
“I didn’t disappear. I work. I contribute.”
“You exist. That’s not the same as living.”
The words land somewhere in my chest. I want to argue, but I can’t find the lie in what he’s saying.
“You and Lia worked through it,” I say. “You’re happy now.”
“We are, but we almost weren’t.” He turns on his barstool to face me fully. “You know what saved us?” I blink. I’m not actually sure. One day, my sister was engaged to a shit head in the city and the next, she was living with my best friend, working through a new medication protocol, and blooming with health.
“I can tell you it wasn’t hiding; it wasn’t fighting with doctors.” Ethan slaps the bar. “I owned up to my shit, communicated with my family, and took a risk sharing my true feelings with the woman who imprinted on my heart.”
“Imprinted? Are you a werewolf?”
We both laugh, because we watched those stupid vampire movies together growing up, crammed in the living room at the Bedd house with all his siblings, me glaring at him each time he tried to hold my sister’s hand.
I chew the last pickle slice and shrug at him. “What’s your point?”
“I see what you’re doing with Eva—pushing her away before she can leave.”
“I’m not?—”
“You brought her along to babysit your nephew.” Ethan shrugs. “You cracked the door open, and now you’re sitting here wondering if you should slam it shut again.”
I don’t answer. Because he’s right. It all sounds so obvious when he grunts it out at me.
The jukebox switches to Willie Nelson. Someone cheers at the dartboard—Hank must have actually hit something. Old Pete snores in his booth.
“You can’t control whether people leave,” Ethan says quietly. “You know that, right? People leave or they don’t. They get sick or they don’t. They stay or they go. You can’t spreadsheet your way into certainty.”
“I know.”
“But you can control whether you show up. Whether you take the chance. Whether you let yourself have something good, even though it might not last forever.” He finishes his beer. “Nothing lasts forever, Asher. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth having.”
I think about Eva. About the way she looked holding Porter, natural and warm. About the way she laughed at something Lia said, her whole face lighting up. She makes me feel alive again. Not just existing.
“I don’t have anything to offer her,” I admit. “I’ve been alone for… a long time. And I’m much too fucking old for her, even if she were staying.”
Ethan holds up a thick, weathered finger. “You don’t have to be the world’s most perfect boyfriend. Women don’t want that, anyway. And I really don’t think she’s as young as you think she is. She seems like she’s seen some shit.”
“What about when she leaves?”
“What if she doesn’t?”
I’m on my third beer—well past my usual intake—when Tiddy comes by to clear our empty baskets. “You boys need anything else? Kitchen’s closing soon, but I can probably sweet-talk Ricky into one more order.”
“We’re good,” Ethan says. “Just the check.”
Tiddy nods, but he doesn’t leave. “Can I ask you fellas something? Business related?”
Ethan and I exchange a glance.
“Sure,” I say.
