“So what? You came home early and found them together?”
He gave a rueful snort. “Nothing so clichéd. I did come home early, and she was really glad to hear me come in, right up until she called out the wrong name, and then realized it was me…. She’d given him a key.”
“God. That’s cold. So that was it then?”
“Yeah. It all came out. I didn’t trust her anymore. Didn’t want to touch her. I couldn’t even look at her without thinking about what would have happened if there’d been a baby. She resented me and I resented her. We couldn’t fix it. Frankly, I didn’t even want to try, and neither did she.”
Kay reached across the table and took his hand, their Shadows coiling softly together, and he looked down at their interlaced fingers while waiting for her judgment.
“Ok, so I do have one question,” she said slowly.
He looked up, waiting.
“What should you do if you keep missing your ex-wife?”
“I have no idea,” he said, bemused.
Kay widened her eyes innocently. “Keep practicing until your aim improves.”
He couldn’t help the rough bark of laughter that quickly became an unrestrained belly laugh. It was such a stupid joke, but he couldn’t stop.
Somehow the relief of having told Kay what had happened after bottling it in for so long, combined with the gratitude he felt that she had come back, and all the weirdness of the day, made him laugh—really laugh, stupidly and loudly, with tears in his eyes—for the first time since he could remember.
By the time he got himself back under control and looked up at Kay, she was smiling broadly, eyes sparkling.
She reached across to cup his cheek with her free hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you. It sounds awful. Now I understand why you have your whole ‘I’m going to be alone forever’ thing going on.”
Ethan sobered. Maybe, just maybe, being alone forever wasn’t the most intelligent plan he’d ever had.
She gently pulled her hand back. His face tingled at the sudden cold and the loss of her Shadows as they retreated.
“I’m glad you told me; thank you,” she murmured as she slowly stood, looking directly into his eyes. “It means a lot that you trusted me.” Her smile dimmed, but she continued. “I like you, Ethan, a lot. I’d like to spend more time with you. And our Shadows… well, I think you feel it too. But I’m not sure you’re ready. I told you before that I hate games, and I meant it.”
Kay’s gaze never left his eyes. “I’m going to leave you to think about everything. About your Shadows, and whether you want to be part of this world. About you and me… and whether you want to be part of that too. Decide what you want, then let me know.”
She leaned over and kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth. “For the record, I hope you’ll call me.”
And then she walked away.
Ethan sat, stunned and alone, watching her all the way to the door. But she never looked back.
ChapterEleven
Walking awayfrom Ethan was genuinely painful.
Every moment she’d spent with him—even the ones immediately after their Shadow Walk as he’d battled his surging adrenaline and need to defend himself—had filled Kay with something she almost hadn’t recognized. Hope.
Not just because of the way her Shadows constantly reached for him, or how much she wanted to touch him. It was also the flashes of good humor that he had slowly relaxed into revealing. The way he spoke of his patients with such genuine care. The way they fit, even sitting silently.
He’d been hurt, and something deep inside her had wanted to protect him, wanted to help him move beyond the prison he’d made for himself. It would have been so easy to stay for another drink, go home with him, give in to the insane magnetic pull she felt whenever she touched him… but she already knew that she didn’t want a casual fling with Ethan.
If he decided after a few days or weeks that he really did want to be alone forever, it would hurt. It was better to be clear, upfront, and let him decide. To give him the space he needed. Elizabeth had been right about taking a chance, but the same applied to Ethan. And unless he did, they couldn’t move forward.
It took him two days.
Two very long, lonely days of second-guessing herself. Of wondering if she’d made a mistake. Of wishing she’d gone back and had their one night together, even if that was all it ever was. Of trying to decide whether that might not have been better in the long run, for both of them.
Then, just when she’d decided it was over, he started texting her climber jokes.
