The company.
My authority.
My brothers’ trust.
Luca, waiting for something I couldn’t give.
Ethan, held at arm’s length because I didn’t know how to choose him without breaking everything else.
And still I dug my heels in. Refusing to call. Refusing to speak to my father until he apologized first. As if pride could buy time.
What if we didn’t make it there in time? What if his last memory of me was a cold phone call and silence?
Why did I keep wasting time like this?
I knew better. I knew how fast things changed. How quickly you could lose people.
Keep your brothers in here?—
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push back the pressure building behind them.
The seatbelt sign chimed.
Beside me, Ethan moved, his hand brushed mine—tentative, almost unsure if he was allowed anymore. I didn’t even remember when I’d let go, but I fucking hated that I had. I hated the distance. I hated that I’d been the one to create it.
Fuck control. It was costing us everything.
I reached for his hand and closed mine around it, firm this time. “We broke up.”
Ethan stiffened beside me.
I didn’t look at him when I said it. The words came out flat and low, but the silence that followed spread through the cabin. When I finally turned, he was staring at me like he was checking to see if I was real.
“Get up,” he said quietly.
I stared back at him, blank, the words still lodged somewhere in my throat.
“Come with me.” His voice softened, but his hand was already urging me to my feet, pulling me gently toward the bedroom at the back of the plane.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t hesitate.
The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us into the quiet of the back cabin. Ethan moved deeper into the room, his back to me. He paced once, twice, then stopped.
I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to turn, part of me braced for anger. But when he did, his expression was still soft.
“Ethan—”
He shook his head, lifting a hand to stop me. “It’s not the time to have this conversation, Ash.”
“I just need to say?—”
“I know.” His tongue flicked over his lip before he took a step closer, stopping between my knees, his hands settling on my shoulders. “And you can. Just not right now.”
“It has to be now.”
“Your head’s not in the right place,” he said. “You’re in shock. It’s like you’re drunk, and you don’t cross that line, remember?” One hand lifted, his knuckles brushing under my chin.
With me seated and him standing, the height of the bed put us almost face-to-face. For once, we were level. He only had to look down slightly.
