Chapter 26
Ethan
The shrill beep of Ethan’s phone alarm sliced through the quiet of the Ritz-Carlton suite, jolting Ethan awake. Ethan sat up on the couch, his Huskies cap tumbling off his face. The soft gray carpet muffled Ethan’s bare feet, hitting the floor, and the room smelled like Mark. Something elegant and clean, like cedar and soap, mixed with the faint musk of the fancy linens. The skyline outside the window glowed with twilight, all purples and golds, unreal against the day Ethan had just lived.
Ethan muttered, “Shit,” rubbing his eyes as he swiped his phone to shut it up. “Dinner already?”
Mark stirred behind him on the couch, his dark hair mussed from their post-game nap. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he smoothed his shirt. “We should get moving.”
Mark nodded, heading for the other room. “See you in a bit.”
Ethan stepped into the bedroom, the carpet soft under his bare feet, the air smelling of clean towels stacked neatly on the dresser. He peeled off his clothes, tossed them onto the bed, and padded into the bathroom. The shower started with a hiss, steam curling up as he stepped under the spray. Warm water hit his shoulders, slicing down his back, and the sharp scent of his woodsy soap filled the space.
He tilted his head back, letting the heat soak in, but his mind drifted. Mark was in the other room, probably under his shower right now. The water was running over those broad shoulders, down that beautiful chest, and he couldn’t stop staring at it lately.
He’s right there, and I can’t touch him.
The image stuck, Mark’s dark hair wet, droplets clinging to his skin, that quiet strength in every move. Ethan’s chest tightened, a slow ache building low in his gut. He wanted him more than he had let himself admit, and the thought made his hands pause, soap slippery between his fingers.
He shook his head, rinsing off quickly.
Get it together, Williams.
He stepped out, toweling off rough, steam fogging the mirror. He dressed fast, a gift from his military days when you had to. He wore a navy sweater and beige pants and ran a hand through damp blonde hair, leaving it messy. Ethan paced once or twice, then headed back to the living room, his heart thudding louder than it should.
Mark stepped out of his bedroom about ten minutes later, and Ethan froze. He wore a beige button-down, sculpted tight over thick forearms. White pants clung to his legs just right, cufflinks glinting silver at his wrists—simple but sharp, like something out of a damn magazine. That cedar cologne, warm and rich, hit Ethan again, curling into his lungs like a tease.
He blurted, “Goddamn, Mark, you’re hot as hell,” the words spilling out before he could catch them. Mark’s frame filled the doorway, all broad lines and quiet power, the lamplight catching the flush creeping up his neck.
Mark blinked, pink spreading across his cheeks, and he tugged at his collar. “Thanks,” he mumbled, voice low. “It’s just… clothes.”
He grinned, stepping closer. “Aw, look at you, all flustered. Didn’t know I could make the big-shot lawyer blush.”
Mark groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, but his lips twitched. “You’re an ass.”
Ethan laughed, the sound light, but his pulse raced.
That blush is gonna kill me.
Mark’s awkwardness just made him more—more everything—and Ethan wanted to close the gap, run his hands over that shirt, and feel the heat under it. Instead, Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Ready for dinner, pretty boy?”
Mark shot him a dry look, still pink. “Let’s go before you get worse.”
Ethan smirked, following him out, but the air hummed with something new—Mark’s blush, Ethan’s tease, a thread of want tugging tighter between them.
Ethan stretched, his navy sweater pulled tight across his chest, and caught Mark glancing his way before standing quickly like he’d been caught. Ethan’s stomach flipped—not from hunger, but from how this day kept piling up: the private jet, the suite, the game, and dinner. Ethan buzzed from it, but it was too much to process.
The restaurant glowed with candlelight and soft murmurs, tucked into downtown Seattle like a secret. The air smelled like seared steak and garlic butter, with a kick of red wine that made Ethan’s mouth water. Ethan slid into a corner table, eyes darting from the flickering candles to the menu, then back to Mark.
Ethan leaned forward, voice dropping. “Mark, seriously, thank you. This has been the best first date day I could’ve imagined.”
Mark’s eyes softened, but his fingers fidgeted with a cufflink, a nervous tic Ethan was starting to love. “Yeah?” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. I wanted it to be… something.”
Ethan grinned, but the weight of it all pressed in. The jet, suite, game, now this. Ethan admitted, “It’s a lot, though,” gesturing vaguely. “I mean, this must be crazy expensive. I don’t want the firm, or you shelling out like this just for me.”
Mark’s smile tightened, and he waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. My hourly rate for this trip covers it. Perks of the job.”
Ethan frowned, leaning back. “Your hourly rate covers all this? The jet, the Ritz, this place? Come on, Mark, that’s a stretch.”
Mark shifted, his knee bumping the table’s edge. “It’s fine, Ethan,” he said too quickly. “It’s handled. I want you to enjoy yourself. You always take care of everyone, dude. Let me take care of you this weekend. Please?”
Ethan studied him, Mark’s easy grin feeling a little forced. Ethan sensed something off—he wasn’t lying, but it didn’t add up.
He’s hiding something.
Ethan’s gut said this was Mark, not some firm perk, and the thought tightened Ethan’s chest. Ethan opened his mouth to push, then stopped.
He’s trying so hard.
Ethan tossed him a grin instead. “Okay, but just so you know, I’m planning our second date, and all your getting is McDonald’s.”
Mark laughed, the sound loosening the knot in Ethan’s shoulders. The tension faded, and the air went soft again, the candlelight catching the warmth in Mark’s eyes. Mark reached over, his fingers brushing Ethan’s quick, deliberate touch—before pulling back to sip his water. Ethan’s skin tingled where he’d been.
The food came—steak crusted with herbs, veggies shiny with oil, and some truffle risotto that smelled like a dream. Mark’s face lit up, and he dove in, cutting his steak with a precise little flourish. “Okay, this,” he said, excitement bubbling out. “Medium-rare, perfect char. But the rosemary’s a bit strong—buries the garlic a bit.”
Ethan paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, and grinned. “You’re such a foodie,” Ethan said, warmth spilling into his voice. “I love how excited you get about this stuff.”
Mark paused, a flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, well, I cook a lot,” he said, gesturing to Ethan’s plate. “Try the risotto. It’s the star.”
Ethan did, his eyes fluttering shut as the flavor hit—creamy, earthy, perfect. “Holy shit, you’re right. This is amazing.”
Mark grinned, and something in Ethan unclenched. Dinner stretched out, romantic in a quiet way. Mark passed Ethan bread, their hands brushing again, his deep voice teasing Ethan about his ketchup obsession. Every little move Mark made—holding the door earlier, the way he watched Ethan now—felt like a gift, and Ethan couldn’t get enough.
The door clicked shut behind them at the suite, the city lights spilling silver across the carpet. Ethan kicked off his shoes, his sweater rumpled, and turned to Mark, heart pounding too loud. Mark stood by the armrest, hands in his pockets, watching Ethan with those dark eyes.
Ethan stepped closer. His voice low. “Today…” Ethan started, “It’s more than anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t know how to thank you for this beautiful memory.”
“Ethan, over the last three months, I’ve watched you work hard to care for others, protect others, and make others happy. This weekend is the least I could do to repay you for how you have changed my life. You helped me to learn to live again, Ethan, you’re making me remember who I used to be.”
Mark’s breath hitched, “Seeing you happy like this… that’s my way to say thank you and to make you know how much I care about you.”
Ethan exhaled, stepping closer, their hands still tangled. The air buzzed, thick with something unspoken—gratitude, longing, a thread tying them tighter. Ethan didn’t move, didn’t push, just stood there, letting it sink in. This wasn’t just a date. It was them starting something Ethan didn’t want to let go of.