Chapter 36
Ethan
Ethan stepped through the front door, the weight of his first day back at work pressing hard on his shoulders. The family room glowed with the flicker of the TV, his parents’ murmurs floating out—his mom’s soft laugh, his dad’s low grumble over some game show. Ranger ran to them after he removed the lead. He kicked off his boots, the floor cool beneath his socks, and moved to the gun safe by the hall, his hands steady as he unholstered his weapon. The lock clicked shut, securing it, and he straightened, the faint hum of the TV fading as he headed toward Mark’s office.
The door stood ajar, evening light spilling out, and he pushed it open, his uniform creaking faintly with each step. Mark’s office stretched before him—a dark wood desk piled with legal files, a laptop casting a soft glow across the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with law books and a few framed photos, their edges worn from time. A worn leather sofa hugged one wall, its surface scuffed but inviting. Mark sat at the desk, head bent over papers, the air warm with the lingering scent of dinner.
Mark looked up, his eyes locking on his, and they both froze for a heartbeat. Then they moved—fast, no words, just need. He crossed the room as Mark stood, and they crashed into each other’s arms, his hands gripping Mark’s shirt, Mark’s arms wrapping tight around his back. They held on, silent, his cheek pressed to Mark’s shoulder, breathing in the steady rhythm of him. The fight from that morning hung heavy, but this—this closeness—melted it down to something raw and real.
He pulled back just enough to look at him, his voice low and rough. “Mark, I’m so sorry for lashing out at you this morning,” he said, his words sharp with regret. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—I was angry and overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse.”
Mark’s hands stayed on his shoulders, his grip firm, his voice soft but steady. “Ethan, I’ve completely overstepped these past couple weeks,” he said, his eyes meeting his with quiet honesty. “I see that now, and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll set some boundaries going forward—I won’t push like that again.”
He nodded, the knot in his chest loosening, and stepped back, tugging Mark toward the sofa. “Let’s sit,” he said, his tone softer now, needing a moment to breathe. The leather creaked as they sank down together, his uniform stiff against the cushions, Mark’s warmth close beside him. He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, the faint hum of the TV drifting in from the family room.
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not cold, their shoulders brushing as they sat. His hands clenched, then relaxed, the day’s strain settling into his bones—work’s chaos, Ranger’s restless energy, the fire’s lingering ache. Mark’s steady breathing anchored him, a quiet promise they’d face this, but words waited, unspoken, pressing against his ribs. He’d hurt Mark that morning, and Mark had hurt him too—overstepping, hiding—and now they balanced here, raw and ready to talk.
He turned his head, meeting Mark’s gaze, his uniform sleeve grazing Mark’s arm as they sat close, hands brushing on the sofa. The weight of the day hung thick, their fight a jagged line softened by apologies, but not erased. A fragile truce held in the stillness, their silence brimming with truths they hadn’t faced—secrets, trust, the man he needed to be. Ranger’s distant whine echoed from the hall, a call to duty he’d answered all day, but here, with Mark, a deeper call stirred, pulling them toward a reckoning neither could dodge.
Mark took a breath, his hands resting on his knees, his voice low as he started. “Ethan, there’s something I need to—”
“Wait,” he cut in, his heart jolting, turning to face him. “Before you say anything, I need to tell you about a call I got today at work. It’s been eating at me all afternoon. I can’t shake it.”
Mark’s brow furrowed, his eyes steady, and he nodded. “Okay,” he said, his tone soft but curious. “What happened—what was the call?”
He swallowed, his hands trembling slightly, and looked down at his lap, then back up. “It was a crash out on Highway 101,” he said, his voice rough but clear. “A young guy, maybe twenty-five, lost control—rolled his truck three times. I was the first officer on scene, but he was gone before the medics arrived. His wife was following him in her car, and I was there for her. She just kept screaming his name, her whole world broke in that second. It hit me hard—life’s so short, so damn fragile, and we don’t get to know when it’s over.”
Mark’s hand moved to his, squeezing gently, his voice quiet. “That’s tough, Ethan—I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
He shook his head, his throat tight, and turned fully to him, his eyes locking on Mark’s. “No, listen—I hate myself for how I acted this morning,” he said, his words sharp with regret. “I was mean to you, lashing out when you’ve been nothing but good to me—to my family. That call made me see it—we could lose each other any day, and I’d never forgive myself if I left things bitter between us. I was wrong, Mark, and I’m so sorry.”
Mark’s grip tightened, his voice soft but firm. “Ethan, we’re okay—we’ll figure this out.”
He took a shaky breath, his hands reaching for Mark’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “No, there’s more,” he said, his voice dropping, raw and urgent. “I’ve been holding this in, scared to say it, but I can’t wait anymore—not after today. Mark, I love you. I love you so much it hurts, and I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You’re my rock, my safe place, and I was an idiot to push you away this morning when all I want is to hold you closer.”
Mark’s eyes widened, a sheen of tears glinting in the dim light, and he pulled him in, his arms wrapping tight around him. “Ethan,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, pressing his forehead to his. “I love you too. God, I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”
He clung to him, his fingers digging into Mark’s shirt, tears tracing hot down his cheeks as he buried his face in Mark’s neck. Their breathing synced, ragged and real, the leather sofa creaking as they held on, the room fading to just them. His heart pounded, the call’s echo—life’s brevity—mixing with the fierce, tender rush of loving Mark, a man who’d stood by him through fire and chaos.
They pulled back, just enough to see each other, his hands sliding to Mark’s face, thumbs brushing his jaw. “I mean it, Mark,” he said, his voice steady now, brimming with love. “You’re everything to me—I don’t care about the fights or the mess. I just want you, always.”
Mark smiled, soft and real, his hands resting over his, holding them there. “I want you too, Ethan,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. “Always—you’ve brought me back, and I’m not letting go.”
They sat close, hands brushing, tears drying in the warm glow of the office, the faint TV hum a distant thread. His chest ached with love, the morning’s anger a shadow burned away by this truth, but a flicker lingered—Mark’s pause, something unsaid. The call had stripped him bare, and their love flared fierce in its wake, a fragile, radiant flame holding them tight, its warmth a promise against the quiet weight of secrets still untold.
Mark shifted beside him, his fingers fidgeting, and cleared his throat, his voice low and uneven. “Ethan, there’s something I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you,” he said, his words stumbling out awkward and slow. “Your instincts weren’t wrong, I have been hiding something and I have lied to you.”
Ethan didn’t react, he gave Mark his full attention and listened as he continues.
It’s about money. Money I’ve got that you don’t know about.”
He turned, his heart skipping, and met Mark’s eyes, steady but nervous. “Money?” he asked, his voice quiet but sharp with curiosity. “What do you mean?”
Mark rubbed his neck, his gaze dropping to his lap, then back up, awkward but pushing through. “Jessica wasn’t just anyone when we met,” he said, his tone softening. “She grew up in Dallas, daughter of a very influential and wealthy family. Her family owned half the city’s skyline—towers, condos, billions in the bank. I was this broke law student, nothing to my name, and her folks hated me for it. Said I wasn’t good enough, told her they’d cut her off if she stayed with me. She walked away anyway—chose me over all that.”
He nodded, his hand resting on Mark’s knee, urging him on. “She gave up everything for you,” he said, his voice low, awed. “Then what?”
Mark swallowed, his voice tightening. “We had so many wonderful years together, the last couple were tough because of the cancer,” he said, his words careful. “Then her entire family —her parents, her brother—died. They were out on their yacht, off the Gulf of Mexico, throwing some fancy party with investors. A storm hit fast, the storm flipped it—there was no warning. Fourteen people drowned. It was all over the news at the time, this huge tragedy. Jessica was the last one left, and she got everything—two billion dollars from their fortune.”
He blinked, shock rippling through him, his hand tightening on Mark’s knee. “Oh my God, that had to be devastating. She was such a beautiful soul I know she never would have wanted that outcome,” he said, his voice soft, stunned.
Mark’s eyes flickered, a mix of pride and pain. “No, she never wanted anything from them. She grew up with a life of luxury. All she ever wanted was to be loved. When she and I met, we completed each other. We loved each other unconditionally, and material items never meant anything. All we ever wanted was to build memories, not have things. She was torn. She got the money when she was fighting cancer towards the end. We used it to see some elite doctors, but nothing could be done then. The cancer was too advanced in her body. From there, my firm helped her to divest half of it into various cancer research charities. She focused on children’s cancer research, and she upgraded a lot of oncology equipment at the cancer center in Medford.
Ethan sat mesmerized hearing all of this.
When Jessica learned she had cancer, Linda helped me care for her. A steady hand guiding her—and us—through the storm. She stepped in where I couldn’t, filling the empty spaces with her quiet strength, becoming Jessica’s closest confidante. Linda carried us both, her presence was a lifeline that held us together when everything threatened to break apart. After Jess passed, Linda pieced me back together, brushing off the shards of my grief to make me presentable again, helping me craft the polished mask you first saw when you met me. the facade I wore for years, hiding the wreckage I didn’t want the world to see.
He took a breath, his voice softening as he looked at Ethan. “There’s one more thing Jessica did with the money,” he said, his words steady but warm. “She created an endowment for Pawsitive Vibes. It was all to honor Linda. Jess knew how much Linda loved animals, how she’d talk about wanting a place to help them, especially the strays and the unwanted. It was Linda’s dream, and Jessica made it real, pouring her heart into it because she loved her friend that much. Linda’s vision came to life through Jess’s kindness—and isn’t it strange how it connects us? You’ve got Ranger because of Alex’s work through Pawsitive Vibes, because of Jessica’s gift, and Linda’s passion tying us all together in this weird, beautiful way.”
When she passed four years ago, she left me seven hundred million. That’s what I’ve got, Ethan—seven hundred million dollars that I’ve barely touched.”
He stared, his chest tight, the number—seven hundred million—settling over him like a quiet wave, Mark’s awkward honesty tugging at his heart. “I understand why you felt you had to keep this a secret,” he said, his voice soft and steady, his eyes tracing Mark’s face with care. “I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me—I see why you held it close.”
Mark shifted, his hands twisting together, his voice raw. “I didn’t want you to see me different,” he said, his words stumbling again. “I’m just Mark to you—the guy who loves you, not some rich man flashing cash. It’s Jessica’s money, not mine—I feel guilty even having it, like it’s tied to losing her, to her family’s end. I’ve lied to you about it, Ethan—let you think the firm’s covering your family’s stuff when it’s me. I didn’t want you to feel like I was buying you or fixing you, but I see now it was wrong.”
He took a breath, his heart pounding, and reached for Mark’s hands, stopping their fidgeting. “You’re telling me now,” he said, his voice steady but thick with feeling. “I’m shocked—seven hundred million’s a lot to wrap my head around—but I get it. You were scared. I’m not mad, Mark, I’m hurt that you lied to me, but I forgive you. It is a hard situation, and I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this burden alone.”
Mark’s eyes widened, relief flashing there, and he gripped his hands back, his voice soft. “I’m so sorry, Ethan,” he said, his tone breaking. “I didn’t mean to lie—I just didn’t know how to say it. If I am being honest, I was afraid to tell you, and I am ashamed I have it.”
He held Mark’s gaze, quiet wisdom settling in his chest, and squeezed his hands firmly, his voice steady and warm. “Mark, you don’t need to carry that shame,” he said, his words clear and strong. “I think Jessica would’ve looked at you and said something like ‘That money’s not a burden or a shadow, it’s a gift to keep living, to keep loving.’ She walked away from it all for you once, and chose you because she saw your heart, not your wallet. I believe she’d want you to see it as a way to honor her memory and your marriage, not hide from it. Use it to do good—like finishing this home, like the life you’ve built. You’re not betraying her by having it. You’re keeping her spirit alive. That’s what I feel deep down, and I think she’d be proud seeing you here, letting me love you for the man you are.”
He smiled, small but real, and leaned closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Mark, all of you, and that means Jessica too. I’ve heard her stories, felt her in this house. Finishing her dreams here—fixing the shelves, painting the walls —it’s brought me so much joy, like I’m part of something bigger. I love her memory because it’s part of you, and I love how you honor her. I believe in my heart that she is smiling down on us right now, our love is real, and she is a part of us now, not just you.”
Mark’s eyes welled, a tear slipping free, and he squeezed his hands tighter, his voice shaky. “You don’t know what that means to me,” he said, his words raw. “I’ve been terrified you’d be angry, that this money would change us.”
He shook his head, pulling one hand free to cup Mark’s face, his thumb brushing away the tear. “It won’t,” he said, his voice fierce and tender. “I love you—awkward, stubborn, amazing you—not some bank account. But if this is going to work between us, Mark, there must be honesty from now on. No more secrets, no more lies, I need you to trust me like I trust you. I’m strong enough to handle the truth, and I want us to face it together.”
Mark nodded, his eyes locked on him, his voice steady now. “I promise, Ethan,” he said, his words firm. “No more holding back—I trust you. I love you too much to keep anything from you again.”
He pulled Mark close, their foreheads pressing together, his uniform sleeve brushing Mark’s arm as they held on. Tears traced his cheeks, mingling with Mark’s, the sofa creaking as they leaned into each other. His heart swelled, shock fading under the weight of their love—Mark’s awkward truth, his own open forgiveness weaving them tighter. The office glowed soft around them, the TV’s hum a distant whisper, and a quiet strength bloomed in the stillness, their vow of honesty a fierce, tender flame sealing their bond, burning bright against the shadows of the past.