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Ethan laughed awkwardly. “I mean, yeah. Honestly, I can see that. You’ve got that dark and broody vibe going on.” His grin spread wide across his face.

My brow furrowed. “Dark and brooding?” I asked, pretending to ignore the fact that now both Layne and Ethan had said the same thing about me. “I’m practically a ray of sunshine, Ethan Ward.” I grabbed his shoulder to playfully shove him, but paused at the bulk of muscles beneath his shirt. My face burned red, and I pushed him a little too hard to compensate.

Ethan laughed weakly and paused before looking out at the water as we passed the vendors. “I just meant you’re…different.” He turned and smiled. “And not in the ‘you’re not like other girls’ way, because I know how that sounds.” He tried not to wince, but it still came through. “I guess what I mean is you actually listen…and, I dunno. I feel like you see me.”

My stomach tightened, and I felt stones in my throat, but forced myself to smile and push the feelings down.

Ethan had a way of breaking through whatever walls I put up, and it thrilled and terrified me every time.

We walked in comfortable silence, passing families as they took photos at Seattle's iconic spots. The energy of the pier was always exciting at night, even with the lingering cold, but Spring was right around the corner.

“So, how's work?” I said, steering the conversation away from myself and back to the real reason I was here.

His face shifted. “Honestly, it’s been…weird. Ever since my boss died, it's mostly the same corporate bullshit…” His voice trailed off.

Jake McKinney.

We stopped in front of a bench, and I sensed his unease. “You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” I said.

Ethan smiled, gesturing to the bench that overlooked the water. “Wanna rest?”

I nodded and took a seat. “Really, though. We can talk about whatever you want.”

There was a tiredness in his eyes today, much more than usual, like he’d been running a marathon inside his head.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked, scared of what he might say.

“Well…” He shifted his body toward me, his knees touching mine. “Honesty hour?”

I nodded in agreement, even though being honest was the last thing I could be with him.

He looked down at his feet, kicking the ground. “I don’t…I don't really have a lot of friends, besides the people I work with. Joyce is kind of the Mom at work, but outside of that, it's really just me and Teddy.” He paused, searching my face before continuing. “That’s just to say that…it’s been really nice.” He nodded at me. “This, I mean. Being around you. Getting to know you…” His gaze drifted out to the water. “Whatever this is…”

Ugh, Ethan. Don't do this to me.

His vulnerability was raw and unfiltered, and I felt the words tugging at my chest to get out.

“I lost my only friend...” My voice lightly shook. “My Dad…he was my best friend. I get it, you know?” I said, leaning my body toward him. “I—I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, too. Honest.”

I pressed my eyes tight as if I could make it all disappear. I was doing it again. Too much truth. Too close to the Evelyn Graymore, I no longer was.

That girl drowned in the Sound, and I had to stop trying to revive her. Layne had done that for me, but what came back was not who I was pretending to be with Ethan.

I waited for the follow-up questions, the probing, but nothing came. He let the grief be just that—grief, and I was thankful for the silence.

“I’m sorry, Evie,” he said, resting his hand on my shoulder as he gazed into my eyes.

I told myself to pull away. But of course, I didn’t, because that would be the smart thing to do, the right thing. But I didn't seem to be doing anything right lately. Instead, I was just a fool. A damn fool who couldn't seem to stop putting this beautiful man in danger, despite knowing what could happen. Instead of walking away, I sat there and stared back at someone full of the humanity I no longer had.

The sound of a ferry boat’s horn shot through the night air, startling us both.

Seizing the opportunity, I stood up and moved away from Ethan’s touch.

The smell of diesel hit my nose, and I laughed quietly to myself. Dad used to take the ferry every week for business, meeting suppliers on the islands nearby. He would always meet me afterward with a story ready to tell. It was usually about them not wanting to lower their prices.

“What's so funny?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing. It’s–” I looked at him and smiled. “Just memories.”