Chapter 10 #3
“I feel like this is a life I’m not allowed to have,” she whispered, the words torn out of some deep, unguarded part of her she usually kept locked away. The part that still believed she deserved good things, before the last few years had taught her otherwise.
Ethan’s arms tightened, just a little. Just enough to remind her he was there, solid and real and choosing to hold her.
“Then we’ll steal it,” he murmured into her hair, his voice rough with something that might have been its own kind of longing. “Just for today. Just as long as we can.”
Lydia’s eyes burned. She blinked hard against the tears, watching the golden light play across the dish soap bubbles, feeling the steady rise and fall of Ethan’s chest against her back.
This was dangerous, allowing herself to believe that maybe she could have this. That she deserved soft moments and strong arms and a man who remembered how she took her coffee. That her children deserved laughter and blanket forts and adults who took care of them.
Tom would come. She knew that with an unnerving certainty that made her stomach clench. And when he did?—
“Stop,” Ethan said softly, and she realized she’d gone rigid in his arms. “I can feel you thinking about him. Don’t let him have this moment too.”
“He knows where I am,” Lydia said. “It’s only a matter of time before?—”
“Before I make sure he can’t hurt you.” Ethan’s voice was gentle but there was steel underneath it, the same tone she could imagine him using with unruly patients in the ambulance. Calm but unshakeable. “Before the sheriff finds him and puts him somewhere he can’t hurt anyone. Before you’re safe.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Maybe not.” Ethan turned her gently in his arms until she was facing him, until she had to look up into those steady hazel eyes.
“But I can promise that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and the kids.
And I can promise that today, right now, you’re here and you’re safe and you’re allowed to have this. ”
His thumb brushed across her cheekbone, catching a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.
“You’re allowed to be happy, Lydia,” he said quietly. “Even if it’s just for today. Even if it’s stolen. You’re allowed.”
She wanted to believe him and sink into this moment, this feeling, this man who looked at her like she was something precious instead of something damaged.
“I kissed you,” she whispered. “Last night. I practically attacked you and you didn’t ask for any of that and I?—”
“I kissed you back,” Ethan interrupted. “In case you missed that part.”
“You were being nice. I was terrified and you were?—”
“I was being honest.” His hands framed her face now, gentle but firm. “Lydia, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the morning you made me breakfast. Don’t you dare apologize for giving me an excuse to do what I’d been thinking about for a week.”
Her breath caught. “You … what?”
“I’m falling for you.” The words were raw and honest and terrifying. “I know the timing is terrible and you’ve got enough to deal with without me adding this to the pile. But I’m not sorry about last night. And I’m not sorry about this.”
He kissed her.
This was different from last night. His lips were slow and achingly gentle, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it memorizing the shape and taste of her mouth. He was tentative and careful, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t want to.
Lydia rose up on her toes, her wet hands coming up to grip his shoulders, and kissed him back like she was allowed. Like this was hers to have, to keep, to hold onto.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder than they should be from a simple kiss, Lydia rested her forehead against his dampened shoulder and tried to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea.
“The kids—” she started.
“Are in the living room,” Ethan finished. “Building a fort. We’d hear if they were coming.”
“This is complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated.”
“Tom—”
“Is not here. Is not going to ruin this for you. For us.” Ethan pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “If you want there to be an us. If this is something you want and not just?—”
“I want this,” Lydia said, and the admission felt like jumping off a cliff without knowing if there was water below. “I’m terrified and I have no idea how this works. My life is a mess. I don’t want to drag you into it, but I want this.”
The smile that spread across Ethan’s face was slow and genuine and made him look years younger.
“Then that’s enough,” he said. “For now. For today. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
Upstairs, the old house creaked and sighed, settling into early evening. In the living room, Rosie announced that the fort was now a “Thanksgiving castle” and Eli declared himself its official dragon and challenged anyone who dared to cross the moat made of throw pillows.
For one golden, gravy-heavy, slightly lopsided day, Lydia didn’t see Tom’s shadow in every doorway. She didn’t flinch when Ethan reached for her.
For one perfect Thanksgiving, she reserved her fear for tomorrow and embraced tonight, with her children giggling down the hall, and Ethan’s stolen kisses on her lips.
She let herself have this.