Chapter Five #2
Just thinking about them in the same space at the same time made something inside me twist. They didn’t fit together. They couldn’t. But that separation—the restraint it forced—made being around Ethan bearable. It gave me a way to hold the line.
Another pang of guilt followed close behind. Because that wasn’t fair to either of them.
After we finished eating and Henry left, I finally pulled my phone from my pocket.
Ethan’s messages were waiting.
Pet
got it
you were the one smoking nostalgic watermelon vapes after claiming to fucking hate them so who’s the pillow-clutcher in this scenario?
and that my friends is what I call a fucking buuuurn
I chuckled softly, but then my eyes flicked to the next line he’d sent a few minutes later.
Shorter.
Quieter.
Pet
you busy or something?
Suddenly, I was the one going back in time—back to the nights when I’d forced myself to ignore my phone. To ignore him. And here I was, doing it again. Hurting him. Roughly half an hour after I’d promised I wouldn’t.
Four fucking years, and I still couldn’t control myself around Ethan.
Me
no
not busy
just got caught up with lunch
I might need some salve for that burn though
you win
I could at least give him that.
Since I was so keen on denying him everything else.
Madrid was already warm, that early kind of heat that clung to your shoulders no matter how fast you moved. I’d gone out before sunrise, hoping a run would settle my head.
It didn’t.
My mind kept circling the same things—emails piling up, calls from legal I still hadn’t returned, a board briefing I needed to survive without sparking panic, and the quiet but relentless question of who had signed off on the documents that started this whole mess.
Every minute brought a new problem, and if I couldn’t think of something fast, the next step would be layoffs.
Then there was Henry insisting on throwing me some big birthday bash, and, as the cherry on top, navigating my relationship with Luca when my head kept wandering into places it shouldn’t.
Work was an easy excuse right now, but whatever was happening between Luca and me felt increasingly misaligned.
Forced. But I didn’t have the bandwidth to touch that right now.
I was halfway through rehearsing what I needed to get done today—mostly to keep from thinking about everything I couldn’t control—when something moved at the edge of my vision.
I looked up too late. Too late to avoid it.
Ethan was already jogging to me, lifting a hand in this easy, familiar wave, like running into me on an empty street at dawn made perfect sense.
Of course it was him.
And of course he fucking looked like that.
It was worse than the tennis getup. Ridiculously short running shorts, a cut-out sleeveless T-shirt dipping low at the sides, and a cap barely containing the mess of golden curls.
And the socks. Two-striped, criminally tight, drawing my attention straight to his calves.
Fuck. Me.
“Hey,” he said, chest heaving as he pulled out his headphones.
“Hey.”
His pale eyes did a slow once-over, and I swallowed thickly at the clear appraisal in them.
“You jog? What the fuck?” His laugh was delightfully raspy.
“Yeah, a few times a week when I have the time,” I said. He tilted his head, waiting. “Health and whatnot.”
His expression sobered a little. “But like… is it because there’s something to worry about? First smoking…”
“Oh no, not at all, darling,” I said, huffing an unwilling laugh at his worry. “It’s an age thing.”
His shoulders eased. Then his eyes did another scan, and he pressed his lips together in that shy fucking smile that undid me.
I couldn’t tell if the flush on his cheeks was from the jog or the look. “What?”
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he finally asked.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? These are running clothes.”
“Ash, it’s like… skin-tight.” His cheekbones were popping from how hard he was trying not to laugh.
“It’s hot as balls right now, and these breathe.”
“No, I can definitely tell they breathe. With the mesh”—he waved a hand vaguely at me, clearing his throat—“and you being basically naked and all.”
I laughed out loud, all my worries melting away in an instant. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, darling. So what’s the harm?” I crossed my arms over my chest, biting the inside of my cheek when his eyes got stuck on it.
He gave in and laughed too. “You’re too fucking full of yourself. I shouldn’t even be surprised.”
I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Are you done? Running?”
He nodded.
“Want to get coffee?”
He rolled his lips, looked away, clearly trying not to grin—then nodded again.
We walked to a coffee shop around the block, close to the entrance of my building, and settled at a small table outside by the door.
It was still mostly empty, just a couple of regulars stopping by for their early morning jolt.
Ethan’s leg was bouncing under the table, his arms crossed on top of it while we waited for our order.
I could have tried to strike up a conversation, but in that moment I was completely entranced by him.
It hit me all over again how much he’d changed—in the best possible way.
His biceps were bulging where he had them tucked in, and Ethan might’ve still been fun-sized compared to me, but he’d filled out perfectly for his frame.
And the angles in his jaw? Mouthwatering.
Then he went ahead and flipped his cap backward, and I had to bite my tongue not to groan at the sight.
“So, you’re a jogger now?” He arched a brow, smirk twitching.
“I’ve always done it, actually.”
He frowned, clearly trying to place that. “Really?”
“I stopped for a while when I took over Langley Enterprises. Didn’t have the time for it, but I’ve always been a junkie for early morning running endorphins.”
The server stopped by and dropped off our identical double espressos.
He took a sip. “Guess that makes sense.”
“How about you?”
He set the cup back down carefully. “I picked it up after I dropped tennis.”
Well, that sucked. I loved that outfit. “You stopped playing?”
“Yeah,” he said. “After I stopped talking to my dad.”
Right. Because his dad hated my fucking guts. One more thing I’d fucked up for him. “You don’t talk anymore?”
Ethan’s face flickered through a string of emotions—hurt, anger, shame—before he brushed his knuckles under his nose, the rings on his fingers catching the light as he did. His little nervous gesture. My brows knit at the sight.
“No, we do—kinda…” His lips twisted into a small grimace. “It’s complicated.”
“I get that. Mine’s pretty complicated too.”
“But you stopped speaking with yours altogether.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. When I cocked my head, he continued, “I interned with LE last semester—shadowing your dad. He mentioned it.”
I blinked.
What?
“My father mentioned—to you—that we weren’t speaking?”
“Yeah. He asked me about you once. Like… kind of assuming we were still in contact. And when I told him we weren’t, he said same.”
“My father said same?”
Ethan smiled and rolled his eyes. “Like… that same intention but in your dad’s very formal tone.”
I chuckled. “Of course.” My eyes drifted down to my cup as a frown tugged at my lips. He’d actually asked about me? And to Ethan of all people.
“Daddy issues, am I right?”
That surprised another laugh out of me. “Right.” I took a bigger sip. “Those usually work in my favor.”
Ethan let out a little huff. “Still? Luca doesn’t look that young. How old is he?”
“Thirty-two.”
His eyebrows arched, but he said nothing.
I opted for the safe subject change. “How did that internship work out for you?”
He sighed and leaned back. “Good. I worked with Oli too—when he could. It was fun. Hard but fun.”
I finished my coffee, setting the cup down slowly. The soft murmur of early conversations drifted out from the café behind us, but between us the air felt tight. A little odd, considering everything had gone almost smoothly up until now. But I guess we couldn’t ignore the bad things forever.
Ethan must’ve been thinking the same thing, because he got that resolute look on his face—jaw ticking before his eyes locked on mine. “Hey Ash, I need to ask you something.”
My stomach rolled. “Sure, darling. Anything.”
His leg picked up its bouncing again. “I just know it’s going to bug the hell out of me, because here we are acting like nothing happened, and that’s okay. It’s nice to know things are still comfortable between us, but…”
“Yeah?”
He licked his lips. “Like I told your dad… you and I haven’t talked in years. And we didn’t exactly leave things on the best note, so. Maybe we should clear that up.”
I nodded once. “What did you want to ask?”
He bit down on his lip, looked at his lap, then back at me. “Why did you stop texting?”
Fuck.
It wasn’t even 7 a.m.
“Things had ended,” I said. “But they didn’t. I think it was doing more harm than good.”
His mouth tightened. He was clearly trying to restrain his anger—not to spare me, but to keep me from seeing how much it affected him. Which was worse. I’d rather live in the fantasy world where he didn’t hate me.
“Right. You could’ve told me that…”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, leg stopping for a beat before bouncing again.
Then he looked at me, like he wasn’t done.
“That’s not it, though. It felt like something happened, because one day you were there, and then you just weren’t.
” Porcelain clinked softly as he tapped his ring against the rim of his cup.
“Did something happen? Like… did you start seeing someone or something?”
I sighed and stared down at the table. How the hell was I supposed to handle this?
“Did you ever talk to Henny about this?” I asked as carefully as I could.
Ethan frowned. “Probably. But what does Henny have to do—”
Our gazes held.
His eyes darted over my face. “Why?”
I cleared my throat. “You should ask him about it,” I said. “This feels a little tricky to navigate, and I think the right call is redirecting it.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I respect that you and my brother are friends. That you’re close—closer than you and I are right now. So I think this is a conversation you and he should have. And if you still want to ask me afterward, then I’ll be here.”
“I guess that’s fair.” His eyes didn’t move from mine. “So that wasn’t it?”
“What?”
He shrugged quickly, eyes flicking down at his lap. “You weren’t seeing anyone else?”
My lips curved into a smile before I could help it. I knew I’d put that idea in his head, and I knew it had hurt him, but I couldn’t ignore the rush his jealousy gave me. That was new. I hadn’t exactly been fond of it before.
“It took me a while to start dating again,” I said. “After you. It wasn’t exactly easy.”
His gaze burned into mine. His lips finally twitched out of the firm line they’d been pressed into. “Same.”
Some of the tension between us eased.
Then he hesitated, thumb brushing the rim of his cup. “Can I ask you something else?”
My shoulders tightened automatically. “Sure.”
“Is everything okay at work?”
I stilled.
“I saw a headline,” he added quickly. “Just… kind of stumbled on it. They’re everywhere.”
Yeah, fucking assholes loved throwing salt on a wound. Especially when the wound carried my last name.
A slow breath left me. “It’s being handled.”
Ethan stayed quiet for a moment, watching me over the rim of his cup. “That sounds like a no.”
I huffed a light laugh, keeping my tone even. “It sounds like I’m not ruining a perfectly good espresso with corporate catastrophe at seven in the morning.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, but the worry stayed etched into his expression. “Fair.” He didn’t push.
And I was grateful he didn’t.
More than my own father, the idea of letting him down felt like acid burning in my stomach. I knew I shouldn’t want him to idealize me. I loved that Ethan knew me—the real me. But this was never supposed to happen. I should have had better control over it.
Building this company had been one of the reasons I left him. The last thing I wanted was for him to witness it going up in flames. To watch me fail.
“Do you hate me a little less?” My voice came out almost like a whisper.
He caught it anyway. Ethan smiled, looking away and shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m capable of hating you.”
Those words soothed an ache in my chest that had been lodged there for years. “Friends?”
He nodded. “Always.”
I wanted to lunge across the table and kiss the hesitation off his lips.
No, Sebastian. We’re not going there.
“I have to get to class,” he said, raising his hand to get the check.
I pulled out my wallet and dropped the cash, plus the tip, before he could reach for his phone.
His eyebrows shot up.
“My treat. You can get the next one.”
That shy smile he gave me, caught between genuine pleasure and mischief, felt powerful enough to tilt the world on its axis.
We stood and started walking in the direction of my apartment.
“So,” Ethan said, “you’re gonna keep running in those clothes?”
I bit down on my smile. “While the weather is this hot? Yes. I’m going to keep running in these clothes.”
“I might take this route again then.” Ethan smirked and added, “For the scenery.”
I laughed, loud and stupidly pleased, and without giving it much thought, I draped my arm over his shoulders and pulled him closer. His body seemed to move on instinct—he chuckled and wrapped his arm around my waist as we kept our pace.
More than the flirting, it sounded… nice.
Like this could be a new part of our routine.
That wouldn’t be too bad, would it? We weren’t trapped in a confined space with all the tension simmering between us—it was easier to run and forget what he was wearing next to me.
This way, I could keep him at my side from time to time.
Not too bad.
Also, nobody was awake at this hour to witness it.
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, we turned the corner, and my building came into view. Standing by the entrance was my brother, holding two to-go coffees. His eyes landed on us—on Ethan pressed against my side—and his easy grin dropped clean off his face.
Fuck.
Ethan stiffened beside me. I watched the ease drain out of him in real time, replaced by that stony, cold look he got when he was angry and trying to hide it.
Seems like no matter how much any of us wanted to avoid it, Henry was undeniably wedged between Ethan and me. And from where I was standing, it didn’t look like a particularly comfortable spot to be in right now.