50. Ethan
fifty
Alittle while ago, Justin asked for my help building something in the fields, a frame of a house. That’s when it hit me.
The need to rebuild the past, to erase my mistakes. No matter what Grace said. I want to forget the ten years that just went by, go back, and start new.
So every evening, after working on Lucas’s projects, I head to Woodbury Knoll.
I have a clear idea of what I need and how I want it, and in a few days, it’ll be done.
Yesterday I stopped at the antique shop and met with Autumn. After swearing her to secrecy, I had her help me pick out a cute rug, a few lanterns, a kilim-covered futon, wide throw pillows, and colorful blankets. I bought local pottery and pink drinking glasses at Noah”s general store. I picked up the finishing touch tonight and dropped it off right before getting home to pick up Grace.
“Close your eyes!” I call out from the front of the bike.
Yeah, she’s taken a liking to the ‘chick magnet.’ So much so, that when I wanted to drive her blindfolded to see the ‘surprise,’ she still didn’t want to get in the car.
I didn’t think it’d be safe to have her blindfolded on the bike, so she promised she’d shut her eyes. When I kill the engine and kick out the stand, I turn around to see her with her eyes shut and nose adorably frowned.
“Can I open now?”
“Nope!”
“Ugh!” She swings a leg over the bike and trips on the uneven terrain. “Where are we? I nearly fell.”
I swoop her into my arms. Problem solved. “Almost there,” I say as she holds onto my neck with both hands.
“It smells like forest,” she says.
“Nice try.” The sound of my boots crunching twigs and leaves is enough of a tell. The narrow path climbs steadily, but my breathing stays even.
“Just put me down, Ethan. You’re struggling. I can tell. I’m too heavy.”
“I can barely feel you. We’re just… going uphill.” A rock rolls down the path. “Just a little more.” After a couple more minutes, I set her down and hold her hand. “Duck,” I say, moving aside the underbrush that hides the surprise. “You can open your eyes now.”
She looks around. “Where are we?” Then she squints. “Is that…? Are we on Woodbury Knoll?”
I swing her around so she’s looking in the right direction now. In the direction of the new treehouse I built for her. For us.
She clasps her hands to her mouth. “Ohmygod, Ethan! What did you do?!” The hours spent busting my ass, the extra callouses on my hands, the ache in my lower back are all worth it when I see the wonder in her gaze as she runs to the rope ladder and caresses its rungs before stepping up. She looks at me, stars in her eyes, and fuck me, but it’s a throwback to our younger years. To our carelessness. To the way we just wanted to enjoy each day together.
To the way a tree house away from everyone was all we needed. Hell, it was a castle to us.
And it sure looks the same today.
I close the gap between us and nudge her up, following right behind her, my nose right up her cute ass so she’ll get there sooner. “Ethan!” she giggle-shrieks, hurrying up to the platform.
She moves the heavy curtain aside and gasps. Prodding her to step in, I join her inside.
“It’s huge!” she says. “And look at all this… furniture! It’s so much nicer than our first one!”
“I picked up a few skills over the years… And I figured you’d want a little more comfort.”
“Comfort? What for?”
“You don’t like it?” I say, spreading on the futon, tapping next to me for her to lie by my side.
She remains standing and twirls around to take in all the details. “I love it, but for the record, I’d like to state that I don’t need comfort.”
“Duly noted. I’ll just remove the pillows, the curtains, the throws.” I lean over to switch on battery-operated twinkling lights that illuminate the whole ceiling of the tree house.
“Ohmygod, look at that.”
It does look awesome. “Nah, I’ll just take it all out.”
“Don’t you dare,” she says playfully. “What I meant is, being with you is enough.”
But I see them. I see the tears in her eyes. I see the way she crosses her arms, hands clasping her opposite elbows. “Come here,” I say, my voice lower. When she finally lies next to me, I twirl a strand of her hair in my hand. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”
I haven’t heard from my C.O. yet, but at any moment I’ll be summoned to report in.
She sighs and shuts her eyes. I cup her hip, loving the feel of her body, warm and strong in its own soft way, just like her. She relaxes under my touch, sinking deeper into the mattress, and a tiny sigh escapes her mouth. I run a finger up her T-shirt, goosebumps forming under my touch. She looks at me through half-closed eyelids and brings a hand to my chest, then up to my neck, bringing me down to her.
My heartbeat picks up as the flow of memories mingle with the present. She hasn’t changed, and yet she has. She’s matured. She’s wiser. Braver. More complex. More patient.
The emotional fire she’s been through toughened her and brightened her like a diamond.
She intimidates me.
My fingers reach the lace of her bra, and her breath becomes uneven. Under my hand, the beating of her heart accelerates. She lifts herself off the mattress and removes her T-shirt. I unfasten her bra, then take her perky nipple in my mouth, her moan zinging straight to my dick.
Her fingers fumble with my zipper, and with tiny little cries of want, she gets rid of the fabric between us, wraps her legs around my hips, and pulls me inside her, hungry, wanting, demanding. She nips at my bottom lip, digs her nails in my back, thrusts her hips up, then plants one foot on the mattress, wanting to be on top.
She claims me. Fuck I’ve wanted that. Wanted that for so long, since she’d rejected me and I had no idea why. I wanted to be first for her. First for everything.
I wanted to be her everything.
I wanted to give her everything.
“Ethan,” she moans as she pumps herself up and down my shaft.
“What, beautiful?”
“Ethan…”
“Yeah?”
“Take me harder.” Her eyes roll back as I do what I’m told.
When her walls clench around me, and her nails dig into my flesh, and her moans get louder, and her thighs shake around mine, she grabs my nape and starts tilting us. We roll onto the hard floor of the tree house. “Fuck me right here,” she mumbles when I’m on top of her. I empty myself into her, cupping her back in my arms, pushing her hips into the hard floor. “Yessss,” she sighs, out of breath, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, absorbing my cum, keeping us joined.
I roll us back onto the mattress and pull her into my chest, stroking her hair. Then as my dick becomes limp, I reach under the mattress and pull out a wad of tissues.
“You sure come prepared,” she says with a lazy smile as I clean her up.
“Next stage is a shower.”
She laughs softly.
“Oh right. You don’t need comfort. I forgot.”
She smiles at me tenderly. “I love the comfort you provide for me,” she says, and for real, my dick stands at attention. “I just don’t want you to think you need to do anything special for me.”
I cup her face with both my hands. “I want to do these things for you. I always did. I always will. And no matter what you say, yeah, I do want to catch up with the past. Erase it. Make up for it. You deserve it. And I want it.”
“Okay then,” she says, caressing my face dreamily.
“Good.” We stay like that for a while, looking at each other. She asks me where I got the stuff, if anyone helped me with the build. “Nope. I wanted to do this alone. It was… I guess it was cathartic for me. The physical labor. The quiet. Being alone.” Being close to her in my thoughts. I let this sink in a bit. It does feel like I’ve rebuilt a bridge, in a way.
Grace moves on the mattress, and her belly rumbles.
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
I reach over to the cooler hidden in a vintage travel trunk—the last item I brought this morning—and pull out a chilled gazpacho soup and a fresh white wine. From a side compartment, I produce a baguette freshly baked by Chris. “There’s apples and nuts for dessert,” I say, suddenly self-conscious that this is a frugal and simple meal.
“Ohmygod, Ethan, this is perfect. Look at those little bowls!” she says, talking about the pottery. “Where did you get the soup? It’s delicious.”
I shrug. “I made it.”
She stops with her spoon midair. “You what?”
“I used Justin’s kitchen to make it without you knowing. If I’d done it at the farm, someone would have told you, so—”
“Hold on. You made this?”
I nod.
“From scratch?”
“Eh, just some veggies and seasoning. Throw it in a blender and voila!”
She looks dreamily at me. “Yeah right. Where’d you learn how to—never mind. I don’t want to know her name.”
I laugh. “From Justin’s chef, Shane. They had it at the fair, and it was pretty good. I asked him for his recipe and made it myself.”
She blinks. “I’m sure he would have made it for you. If you’d asked.”
“Yeah. I’m sure he would have. Wouldn’t be the same, though.”
She falls silent for a spell, and I wonder where her mind went. “You okay?”
She answers with a question. “When did you decide to do this? The treehouse, I mean.”
“I saw how easy it was to build that cute frame for Justin, using fallen tree branches.” His project was a surprise for Chloe. “I figured…”
“You figured you could one-up him,” she laughs.
“Nah,” I say, trailing the soft skin of her belly. “Those days are over. I’m happy he’s happy.”
She tilts her face to me. “Ours is a place to hide our relationship. Was a place to hide our relationship.” She finishes on a whisper, and although her tone is soft and mingles with the humming of the forest in the most peaceful way, it pierces me like a dagger.
“I know I shouldn’t, and I know it’s impossible, but there’s a part of me that wants to fix the past. Erase our mistakes. Start over and get it right this time.”
Her eyebrows knit. “We’ll get it right. As long as we don’t expect to have it all.”
But that’s the thing.
I want it all with Grace.