Chapter 18
Ethan
Ethan dipped the paint roller into the tray, swiping it against the ridges to remove the excess before pressing it against the accent wall. The deep blue shade spread evenly, covering the pale beige beneath it. He liked this part—watching something transform, giving a space new life with just a few coats. It was satisfying in a way that being a cop wasn’t. The results here were immediate, no waiting, no bureaucracy, just something tangible and finished.
The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut echoed down the hall. Ethan paused, mid-stroke, glancing toward the doorway. Heavy footsteps stomped through the house, and he knew right away—Mark was not himself.
A few seconds later, Mark appeared, still in his suit but looking about two seconds away from ripping his tie off like it personally offended him. His expression was thunderous, jaw tight, brows drawn together in a deep furrow.
Ethan leaned on the roller handle, raising a brow. “Bad day at the office?”
Mark let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair before undoing his tie in one aggressive motion. “My client lied. Right to my damn face. I Found out today his financials were complete bullshit. Do you know what that means?”
Ethan frowned. “That the case is shot?”
Mark’s laugh was bitter. “Not just the case. The non-profit he was trying to start. The one that was going to provide legal aid to low-income families. Dead in the water because he decided to hide half a million in offshore accounts.” He shook his head, pacing a short line. “And you know who that really screws over? Not him. Not me. The people who needed that service.”
Ethan watched him for a moment, letting him vent. Mark was pissed, and honestly? Rightfully so. Ethan had seen his fair share of liars in his line of work. People who thought they could bend the truth to fit their needs, no matter who got hurt. It sucked, every damn time.
Mark let out another frustrated breath, rolling his shoulders as if trying to physically shake off the anger. “I need a drink.” He glanced at Ethan, finally seeming to register him fully. “Come with me?”
Ethan hesitated. He still had work to do, and he usually didn’t go out on a work night, but Mark looked like he needed this. His shoulders were tense, his whole body practically vibrating with frustration.
Ethan set the roller down and wiped his hands on a rag. “Yeah, alright.” He gave Mark a small smirk. “But we’re taking my truck. You and me in that tiny-ass car after you had a bad day. No thanks.”
Mark exhaled a short laugh. “Fair enough.”
They headed out, and Ethan unlocked his truck, Mark opened his hand and Ethan tossed his keys to him.
“This is a good truck,” Mark commented, running a hand over the steering wheel as he climbed in. “Solid. Reliable.”
Ethan smirked as he buckled in. “Unlike your roller skate of a sedan.”
Mark shot him a dry look. “It was Jessica’s.” He hesitated, then added, “I know it’s dumb, but I can’t get rid of it.”
Ethan’s smirk faded, replaced by understanding. “It’s not dumb.” He kept his voice even, casual. “But I bet if she were here right now and knew you were driving it, she would make fun of you too.”
Mark glanced at him, something unreadable passing across his face before he nodded, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. Then laughed, “How the fuck do you know her so well.”
They pulled into a dive bar ten minutes later. The place was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversation and the twang of country music playing from an old jukebox in the corner. A few pool tables were occupied, and the air smelled like fried food and whiskey.
They grabbed a booth near the back, and when the waitress came over, Mark ordered a double of something strong. Ethan ordered a non-alcoholic beer. Mark raised a brow at him.
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t drink when I have an early shift tomorrow.”
Mark let out a quiet hum of approval. “Responsible. Figures.”
Ethan leaned back against the booth. “Alright, lay it on me. How much of an idiot is this guy?”
Mark ran a hand over his face before launching into the details that he could share. He was still fuming, but as he spoke, Ethan could hear it—underneath the anger, there was something else. Frustration, sure. But mostly? Disappointment . Mark wasn’t just pissed about the case falling apart. He was pissed that people who needed help weren’t going to get it. That said a lot about him.
Ethan listened, letting Mark get it all out. The whiskey in second his glass lowered as the minutes ticked by, and the tension in his shoulders did too. By the time they got their food, Mark had stopped glaring at the world like it personally betrayed him.
Mark took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat. “I needed this.”
Ethan smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a good influence.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Debatable.”
Ethan laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, man. You’re a good guy. This whole thing sucks, but the fact that you care this much. That’s a good thing.”
Mark exhaled, staring down at his drink. “Yeah. Guess so.”
The moment hung between them for a beat before Ethan nudged Mark’s foot under the table. “Now, eat your damn food before I make fun of you for ordering a salad at a dive bar.”
Mark scoffed. “It’s a burger .”
Ethan smirked. “With a side salad.”
Mark sighed, shaking his head, but there was something lighter in his expression now.
As they ate, the conversation shifted, easing into something more relaxed. The anger from earlier wasn’t gone entirely, but at least for now, Mark didn’t have to carry it alone.
Ethan had just popped the last fry into his mouth when he heard a shift in the usual bar chatter, voices dipping low with tension. His ears sharpened, eyes flicking toward the pool table in the corner. Two guys, mid-thirties, a little rough around the edges, had their attention on the waitress instead of the game. She looked uncomfortable, stepping back as one of them reached for her wrist.
"Come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that," one of them slurred.
"I already told you, you’re cut off," she said firmly, crossing her arms.
The guy laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, come on. Just one more round. You can sit with us, keep us company."
Ethan was out of his seat before Mark could react, moving with that easy, controlled stride that came naturally after years in law enforcement. He heard Mark shift behind him but threw a subtle non-verbal look over his shoulder— stay put .
Mark hesitated, then settled back, watching.
Ethan reached the scene in a few steps, sliding smoothly between the waitress and the men. "Fellas," he greeted, voice calm but firm. "Let’s not make a scene, yeah? She said you’re done for the night."
The one closest to him—tall, broad, with the kind of cocky grin that came with a few too many drinks—gave Ethan a once-over and snorted. "Who the hell are you Shortstack?"
"Someone who knows when to take no for an answer." Ethan’s smile was easy, but there was steel behind it. "You should try it sometime."
The guy’s friend groaned, rubbing his face. "Come on, man. Let’s just go."
But Tall and Drunk wasn’t in the mood to listen. Instead, he squared his shoulders, sizing Ethan up like he was considering his odds in a fight.
Ethan sighed. Here we go .
The guy shoved him—hard. Ethan barely moved.
Mark stood from the booth instantly, hands braced against the table. Ready if needed.
Ethan stayed relaxed, rolling his shoulders. "That the best you got?" he asked casually.
Apparently, that was enough to send the guy over the edge. He swung.
Bad move.
Before the guy could even register what happened, Ethan had him on the floor—fast, smooth, a perfect takedown. The impact sent a dull thud through the wooden boards, and a collective inhale echoed around the bar.
The guy groaned, face smushed against the floor, one of Ethan’s arms pinning his in a controlled hold. "Ow—what the—"
"Now that," Ethan said conversationally, "was a mistake."
The other guy immediately threw his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, we don’t want trouble."
Ethan sighed. "Should’ve thought about that before trying to manhandle the lady, it’s against the law for her to serve someone who has had too much already. She is just doing her job."
He let the guy up, keeping a sharp eye on him as he scrambled to his feet, rubbing his shoulder.
"You a cop or something?" he grumbled.
"Off duty," Ethan confirmed, flashing his badge just enough to make a point. "And that means I don’t have to fill out any paperwork if you just take your buddy and head home."
The second guy, clearly the more sober of the two, jumped on the offer. "Yeah, yeah. We’re going. He’s done."
Ethan gave him a look. "Not before an apology."
The guy nudged his friend hard, and after a long moment, he muttered, "Sorry."
The waitress crossed her arms.
Ethan sternly said, "Louder."
The guy sighed heavily. " Sorry ."
Ethan nodded, satisfied. "See? That wasn’t so hard."
With that, the two men stumbled out the door, and the room eased back into motion. Conversations picked up, the music still played, but the mood had shifted. A few of the other patrons sent Ethan nods of approval.
Ethan turned back to the waitress. "You alright?"
She let out a breath, shaking her head. "Yeah. Thanks for that."
"Anytime."
As he made his way back to the booth, Mark just stared at him, lips slightly parted like he was trying to process what he just witnessed.
Ethan smirked, sliding back into his seat. "Are you good, counselor? Look like you saw a ghost."
Mark shook his head, blinking. "You had him on the floor so fast."
Ethan shrugged, reaching for his drink. "I was a wrestler, in high school."
Mark’s lips quirked. "You? A wrestler?"
"Yeah, state champion," Ethan said, clearly proud.
Mark’s eyes glinted with mischief. "So, you willingly wore a singlet?"
Ethan nearly choked on his drink. " Damn right I did. And I looked good in it."
Mark laughed, shaking his head. "I’m sure you did."
The waitress appeared a few moments later with two more drinks, still smiling. "These are one me."
"That’s very kind of you," Mark said.
She waved him off. "Nah, Least I can do."
Mark raised a brow. "You good with that Shortstack?"
She smirked at Ethan. "You can come back anytime.
Scowling at Mark for the name calling, “You... jury’s still out."
She hands Mark the check.
Ethan laughed, shooting Mark a smug look.
Mark sighed, shaking his head with a smile. "Guess I’ll have to keep my troublemaking to a minimum."
Ethan grinned, tipping his glass toward him. "Good luck with that, and make sure you tip well."
The waitress smiled at Ethan and walked off.
As they walked out of the bar, Mark clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, shaking his head with amusement. "So, do you just collect hero points everywhere you go?"
Ethan smirked. "Oh, it’s a gift. But hey, at least now, you know—if you ever get handsy with a waitress, I can take you down just as fast."
Mark gave him a look .
Ethan laughed, throwing an arm on Mark’s shoulder. "Relax, old man. I’d go easy on you."
Mark huffed, shoving him off. " Seasoned . I’m seasoned ."
Ethan grinned. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, Grandpa .”