Chapter 16
Ethan
Ethan exited the Brookings County Courthouse, his duty belt weighing heavier than usual after a long morning of court appearances. The crisp ocean air hit him as he stepped outside, replacing the dry, paper-filled scent of the courthouse halls. He reached for his patrol car keys when a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Officer Williams!"
Ethan turned toward the sound, and there was Mark, walking up the courthouse steps. He looked sharp as hell—crisp charcoal-gray suit, tailored perfectly to his broad frame. A deep blue tie brought out the color in his eyes, and he moved with an effortless confidence that made people step aside instinctively. The scent of cologne—woodsy, clean, with something subtle and warm—brushed past as Mark stopped in front of him.
Ethan huffed a small laugh, stuffing his keys into his pocket. "You just had to throw the ‘officer’ in there, huh?"
Mark smirked, tilting his head. "What can I say? It feels like the proper address after you pulled me over last week."
Ethan shook his head, chuckling. "I knew you’d bring that up again."
Mark’s smirk lingered. "Only when it serves me."
Ethan crossed his arms. "You in here to confess your traffic sins? Finally ready to pay penance?"
Mark chuckled, adjusting his leather messenger bag on his shoulder. "Not quite. Just filing some briefs for a case. You?"
Ethan sighed. "Got dragged in for some traffic violations. Standard court appearances for tickets I issued."
Mark nodded in understanding, then hesitated. "Hey… I had a really great time Saturday. The game’s better when you watch it with someone."
Ethan grinned. "Yeah, me too. Even though I had to witness you in all your Duck-loving glory."
Mark scoffed. "You enjoyed it."
"Sure, sure," Ethan teased.
Mark glanced at his watch, then back at Ethan. "Have you eaten yet?"
Ethan frowned. "What time is it?"
"Almost noon."
Ethan’s stomach growled in perfect timing, betraying him. He sighed dramatically. "Well, now that you mention it…"
Mark smirked. "Come on. My treat."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "You sure? I can cover myself."
Mark waved him off. "Please. I’d rather pay for your food than listen to you justify why you don’t need me to."
Ethan rolled his eyes but grinned. "Alright, fine. I’m not gonna pass up a free meal."
"Smart man."
Ethan followed Mark down the sidewalk, the two of them walking side by side toward the KFC at the end of the block. The late morning air was crisp, with the scent of the ocean drifting in from the harbor. Downtown Brookings had that small-town rhythm—quiet foot traffic, the occasional honk from an old pickup, and the scent of fresh coffee lingering from a nearby café.
Mark adjusted the strap of his leather messenger bag, casting a glance at Ethan. “You okay with fast food? I figured something quick and easy before we both get pulled back into work.”
Ethan smirked. “Man, I’m not picky. If it’s hot and I don’t have to cook it, I’m in.”
Mark chuckled. “A man with simple needs.”
Ethan raised a brow. “That sounds an awful lot like a backhanded compliment, counselor.”
Mark gave him a sideways look, that barely-their smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’d never be so underhanded.”
Ethan let out a low laugh. "I bet you say that to all your opposing counsel."
They reached KFC, and the scent of fried chicken and warm biscuits wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. Ethan’s stomach rumbled immediately.
Mark glanced at him, amused. "Sounds like I made the right call."
Ethan rolled his eyes, stepping inside with him. They approached the counter, and Ethan gave the menu a once-over before shrugging. “I’ll take the three-piece meal—original, mashed potatoes, and a biscuit.”
Mark ordered the same, paying before Ethan could even think of pulling out his wallet.
Ethan frowned. “You keep buying me food, I’m gonna start thinking you’re trying to fatten me up.”
Mark handed over his card to the cashier without looking at Ethan. “I just like watching you struggle with someone actually doing things for you.”
Ethan scoffed. “I do not struggle—”
Mark lifted a brow, giving him a pointed look.
Ethan exhaled, shaking his head as they grabbed their cups and moved to the drink station. “Fine. But next time, I’m paying.”
Mark hummed, clearly unconvinced. “We’ll see.”
They found a table near the window, settling in as Ethan took the first greedy bite of his biscuit. “Damn,” he said, nodding in approval. “I forgot how good these things are.”
Mark stirred his iced tea, watching him with mild amusement. “What, they don’t feed you on the force?”
Ethan snorted. “You think the Brookings PD has a gourmet chef? Please. Half the time, I’m eating a protein bar in my car between calls. The other half, I’m living off my mom’s leftovers.”
Mark sipped his drink. “That’s right. You live with your parents.”
Ethan nodded, not missing the way Mark’s tone wasn’t condescending, just curious. “Yeah. My dad’s back injury makes it hard for him to work full time, and my mom’s…” He hesitated, then forced himself to finish. “She’s going through some stuff.”
Mark didn’t press, didn’t pry. Just nodded in quiet understanding. “That’s a lot to carry.”
Ethan gave a small shrug, tearing into a drumstick. “It’s family. You do what you have to do.”
Mark studied him for a beat before nodding. “Yeah. You do.”
For a moment, silence settled between them—not the awkward kind, but the easy, comfortable kind.
Then Mark leaned back, grinning. “So, should I be worried about Ranger staring me down Saturday? I swear he was trying to figure out if I was edible.”
Ethan laughed, shaking his head. “No, he’s just checking you out. The only people that he’s ever around are my family and the guys at work. Usually, when I go out for side work, I leave him at home. He adores my mom, and as soon as his vest comes off, he is nothing but a lapdog.”
Mark smiled, “He didn’t have his vest on Saturday, and I would be terrified if he were in my lap.”
Ethan laughed. “Give him time to get to know you and you him. He is a protector. When in new situations, he is alert to protect others, especially me. He has difficulty relaxing and letting new people care for him.”
Mark gave him a thoughtful look. “That sounds like someone else I know.”
Ethan stilled for a second before scoffing. “Are you saying I’m like my dog?”
Mark smirked. “I’m saying he’s your perfect match.”
Ethan rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. He hadn’t expected this lunch to feel so… easy.
Ethan wiped his hands on a napkin, leaning back in his chair as he popped the last bite of his biscuit into his mouth. KFC wasn’t exactly a five-star meal, but damn if fried chicken and buttery carbs didn’t hit the spot. Across from him, Mark was finishing off his food with that same quiet precision he seemed to apply to everything in life.
Ethan should’ve been focused on the conversation. On eating. On literally anything else.
But instead, his brain had latched onto the way Mark’s jaw flexed when he chewed. The way his fingers—strong, capable hands—wrapped around the cup as he took a drink.
Nope. Absolutely not.
He shifted in his seat, forcing his gaze toward the window, watching the steady flow of people coming and going from the restaurant. He needed a distraction.
“So,” Ethan said, setting his cup down with a small thud. “I’ll be over tonight. I want to finish the foyer and start prepping the dining room.”
Mark nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin before folding it neatly beside his tray. “Sounds good.” He paused. “You watching the game on Saturday?”
Ethan arched a brow. “You mean the one where the Ducks get humiliated?”
Mark scoffed. “You’re delusional if you think the Nittany Lions stand a chance.”
“What is Nittany anyway? Is that a type of lion?”
“No, it’s a stupid mountain that lions used to roam on, we will not lose to a dumbass mascot.”
Ethan smirked, tapping a finger against the table. “Confidence looks good on you, counselor.”
Mark rolled his eyes, but Ethan didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting with a smile.
“Are you coming over or what?” Mark asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Ethan said easily, then leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “But just so you know, when it’s Ducks versus Huskies, The dogs will be having crispy duck that night.”
Mark gave him a slow, amused look. “Game on Williams, you will be eating those words.”
Ethan chuckled and shook his head, glancing around the restaurant. It was instinctual scanning, taking in exits, clocking movements. His body may have been sitting there, engaged in conversation, but his awareness was split between Mark and the room.
Mark must’ve noticed. “Are you always this aware of your surroundings?”
Ethan’s eyes flicked back to him. “It comes with the job. I don’t like sitting with my back to the door.” He shrugged. “Once you train yourself to notice things, you can’t really turn it off.”
Mark considered that, nodding slightly. “That makes sense.”
Ethan reached for his drink, taking a sip before tilting his head. “So, tell me something, Mr. Jensen. Why the law? What made you want to be a lawyer?”
Mark exhaled. His gaze distant for a moment before he spoke. “When I was a kid, my mom used to say I argued like I was building a case. But it wasn’t just about arguing. I always wanted things to be fair.” He set his cup down. “When I was fifteen, my dad was in a car accident. It wasn’t his fault, but the insurance company did everything they could to avoid paying his medical bills. My mom fought them for months.”
Ethan’s posture straightened. “Damn. That’s rough.”
Mark nodded. “It was. I remember sitting in the waiting room of a law office, watching how powerless she felt. That stuck with me. I never wanted to feel that helpless—or watch someone I cared about go through it.”
Ethan let that sink in. “So, you became a lawyer to fight for the little guy?”
Mark huffed a small laugh. “I guess you could put it that way.”
Ethan grinned. “Okay, that’s actually pretty badass.”
Mark smirked. “Don’t spread that around. Might ruin my reputation.”
Ethan shook his head, laughing softly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
A beat passed before Mark glanced at him. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-six.”
Mark arched a brow.
“You?”
“Thirty-nine.”
Ethan whistled. “Damn. That’s a whole teenager between us.”
Mark shot him a look. “Careful. You’re getting dangerously close to calling me old.”
Ethan grinned. “Not old. Just… seasoned.”
Mark shook his head, but his eyes showed an amused glint.
Since they were already diving into personal history, Ethan figured he might as well give him the highlight reel.
“I Graduated high school, joined the Air Force, became a military police officer, got assigned to K9, served overseas, planned on re-enlisting… then Dad got injured.” He drummed his fingers lightly against the table. “Came back home, got into law enforcement here, and now I work full-time while doing side jobs to help with the bills.”
Mark listened carefully, nodding. “That’s a lot of responsibility for someone your age.”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s working out for me.”
Mark nodded again, something unreadable in his expression.
“What do you do for downtime or relaxation?”
Ethan thought momentarily, “I went to some old guy's house the other day to watch a game.”
Mark threw his napkin across the table and hit Ethan in the face.
“Assaulting a police officer is a Class C felony, counselor”
Mark laughed and replied, “The jury would never convict once they met you.”