Chapter Seventeen
Shadows of Yesterday
Ethan
“ I ’ll think about it,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, before I can respond, she stands, clutching the strap of her bag like it’s a lifeline.
“Goodnight, Ethan,” she says softly, her eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before she turns and heads toward the elevator.
The chair creaks softly beneath me as I lean back, watching Emma walk away toward the elevator. My chest feels tight, like it’s been wrapped in barbed wire, each breath catching on the edges of everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.
Her perfume lingers in the air, faint and familiar, pulling me back to a thousand memories I’ve tried to bury. I drag a hand down my face, letting out a slow, shaky breath. She’s still the same, but different in ways I can’t put my finger on. Older, yes. Wiser, probably. But there’s something else—a guardedness in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a hint of the walls she’s built since I last knew her.
Since I left her.
I push up from the chair, pacing the quiet corner of the lobby as the weight of her words settles over me.
I thought it was what you wanted.
God, how could she think that? I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but I was too stupid—too scared—to fight for her. And now? Now I’m standing here, wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to fix what I broke.
I glance toward the elevator, half-tempted to follow her, to say something—anything—that might convince her to stay and talk. But the look in her eyes when she said my name, the way her voice trembled—it’s clear she’s just as shaken as I am.
And I can’t blame her.
The door to the bar swings open, and some of the groomsmen spill out, their laughter loud and carefree. I step back into the shadows, not wanting to be seen, not wanting to answer questions I don’t have the energy for. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, grateful for the distraction.
Jace’s name lights up the screen.
Jace : Got everything squared away for tomorrow ?
I let out a slow breath, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I type back quickly.
Me : Yeah, everything’s set. You?
Jace : Think so. Sierra’s running the show, so I’m just trying not to screw it up.
I smirk at that, shaking my head. Classic Jace, always playing it cool. Just as I’m about to slide the phone back into my pocket, another message pops up.
Jace : By the way… saw you with Emma earlier. You good?
The words land with a thud, and I find myself gripping the phone tighter. Of course he saw. He probably passed through the lobby while we were talking. It doesn’t matter.
Me : Yeah, I’m good.
I hesitate, staring at the screen, before adding.
Me : Ran into her downstairs. It was fine.
The lie is easier than unpacking the truth, but I know Jace isn’t the type to let things slide. Sure enough, his reply comes fast.
Jace : You sure? You looked a little wrecked, man.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath before I type back. My jaw tightens as I type back .
Me : I’ll manage. Don’t worry about me. Go focus on your wedding.
Jace : Alright. Just checking in. Don’t overthink it. See you tomorrow.
The lie tastes bitter, but it’s easier than unpacking the truth. I pocket my phone and push up from the chair, the tightness in my chest feeling like it might crush me. The air in the lobby feels stifling, heavy with unspoken words and memories I can’t shake. I need to get out of here before it drowns me.
Stepping outside, the warm night air hits me like a slap to the face, cutting through the tension coiled tight in my chest since I saw her. It doesn’t calm the storm brewing inside me, but it’s something.
I lean against the side of the hotel, staring out at the parking lot. Cars come and go, their headlights sweeping across the pavement, but my mind’s stuck somewhere else—lost in the past and trying to make sense of the present.
Anger burns low in my gut, anger at myself for letting her go, for being too much of a coward to fight for what we had. Regret follows close behind, twisting the knife. And under it all, a flicker of something I don’t want to name: hope.
Emma’s voice echoes in my mind, the words weaving through the chaos. I should feel relief—she didn’t shut me down, didn’t look at me like I was a stranger. But her hesitation, the way she held herself too tight, makes it clear we’re far from okay .
She was right there. Close enough to touch, close enough that I could count the freckles on her cheeks if I wanted to. Fuck me, I wanted to.
I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling aimlessly through notifications I don’t care about. My thumb hesitates over an unopened email from my agent, but I swipe past it, not in the mood for work. I don’t even realize where I’m heading until I open my photo gallery.
I know exactly what I’m looking for.
The picture isn’t much—a candid shot from years ago, taken during one of those lazy afternoons we spent together. Emma’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her nose buried in a book, a half-empty mug of coffee on the table in front of her. She’s not looking at the camera, not even aware I took it, but the soft curve of her smile and the way her hair falls over her shoulder make it one of my favorite photos.
I stare at it for a moment, my chest tightening. I used to look at this picture when I needed to remember what it felt like to be happy. Now, it’s just a reminder of what I lost.
The door behind me swings open, and Jace steps out, his phone in hand. He glances up, spotting me, and his brow furrows. “Hey. Thought I’d grab a quick breather. Just wrapped up with the groomsmen for the night—heading back to Sierra now. You doing alright? ”
I shove my phone back into my pocket, straightening up. “Needed some air.”
Jace walks over, his gaze sharp as he studies me. “You sure that’s all it is?”
“Yeah,” I lie, because what else can I say?
He doesn’t buy it, of course. He never does. Crossing his arms, he leans against the wall beside me. “You’ve got that look.”
I glance at him, frowning. “What look?”
“The one you get when you’re overthinking everything,” Jace says, smirking slightly. “She’s in your head, huh?”
I huff out a laugh, low and humorless. “She’s always been in my head.”
Jace’s expression shifts, his smirk softening into something closer to understanding. “You know, Emma’s the kind of woman who deserves all or nothing. Half-assing it isn’t going to cut it.”
“I know that,” I say quietly, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve always known that.”
“Then don’t wait too long to figure out what the hell you’re doing,” Jace says, his tone serious now. “You’re not going to get many second chances with someone like her. ”
His phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down, sighing. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out. Sierra’s waiting for me. You sure you’re good?”
I nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”
He gives me one last look, as if trying to read between the lines, then claps me on the shoulder. “Alright. Don’t screw this up, man.”
I watch him walk off toward the parking lot, his words hanging heavy in the air. Don’t screw this up.
Easier said than done.
I watch him go, his words echoing in my mind. You know, Emma’s the kind of woman who deserves all or nothing .
The thing is, I don’t think I can.
Sliding my phone out again, I open Emma’s contact. My finger hovers over the screen, debating whether to call or text her. Instead, I close the app and shove my phone back into my pocket.
If I’m going to do this, I have to do it right. And that starts by figuring out what the hell I want to say.
I head back inside, the crisp lobby air a stark contrast to the mild warmth lingering outside. Tomorrow’s another day, another chance to get this right.
I just hope I don’t fuck it up.
The elevator ride to my room feels endless, the faint hum of the machinery doing nothing to quiet my racing thoughts. By the time I reach my floor, my palms are damp, and my pulse pounds in my ears. The conversation with Emma keeps replaying in my head, every word, every pause magnified.
The way she looked at me—like she was still deciding if she wanted to be here at all—it’s a knife twisting in my chest.
I unlock my door and step inside, letting it close behind me with a soft thud. The room is dim, lit only by the glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. I toss my keys on the desk and collapse onto the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees as I stare at the floor.
She said goodnight when she walked away. That’s something, right?
But it’s not enough.
I run a hand through my hair, the years catching up with me, heavy and unrelenting. Every missed chance, every time I could’ve called or texted but didn’t—it all feels like a chain wrapped around my chest, tighter and tighter with each day that passes.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, jolting me from my thoughts. I fish it out, half-expecting Jace again, but it’s just an email from my agent. I swipe it away without reading it and open Instagram instead, my thumb hovering over the search bar .
Don’t.
But I do.
Her profile is the first to pop up, and I tap on it, scrolling through pictures I’ve already seen a hundred times. Each one is a snapshot of a life I’m no longer part of—Emma at a book signing, Emma laughing with Sarah, Emma in a sundress with the sun in her hair.
She looks happy.
The thought sends a sharp pang through me, and I toss my phone onto the nightstand, rubbing my hands over my face.
I should leave her alone. Let her keep building whatever life she’s created without me.
But when I close my eyes, all I can picture is the way her voice caught on my name, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite figure out.
Fuck.
I push off the bed and start pacing the room, the carpet muffling my footsteps. My chest is tight, my thoughts tangled, and the urge to do something—anything—buzzes under my skin.
Finally, I grab my phone again, opening my messages.
Me : Can we talk tomorrow?
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the send button. For a second, I consider deleting it, convincing myself it’s better to wait until the wedding.
But I can’t.
I hit send, the text whooshing away before I can second-guess it.
The seconds stretch into minutes, and my stomach twists with every one that passes without a reply. I toss the phone back onto the nightstand and head to the window, pulling the curtain aside to look out at the city.
The view is nothing special—a parking lot and a strip of fast-food joints—but it’s enough to distract me for a moment. The light from a passing car sweeps across the room, and I let out a long breath, leaning my forehead against the cool glass.
Maybe she won’t reply. Maybe this is her way of telling me she’s done.
My phone buzzes, and I whip around so fast I almost trip over my own feet.
Emma : Okay.
It’s just one word, but it’s enough to steady the storm inside me.
I set the phone down carefully, my heart still racing.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’ll figure out how to say everything I should’ve said years ago. I’ll try to make her see that letting her go was the biggest mistake of my life.
And tomorrow, I’ll pray it’s not too late.
I sit back down on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone like it holds all the answers. One word. That’s all she gave me. But it’s enough to set my mind racing, flipping through every possible scenario for tomorrow.
What if she just wants closure? What if she’s already moved on and this is her way of making peace with the past?
Or worse—what if she tells me there’s nothing left for us?
My chest tightens at the thought, and I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, willing the anxiety to calm down. I’ve faced crowds of thousands, cameras shoved in my face after a bad game, reporters twisting my words into headlines. None of that comes close to this.
Because this isn’t just about my pride or my career. This is Emma.
And if I lose her again, I don’t think I’ll recover.
The bed creaks as I lean back, letting my head hit the wall with a dull thud. The weight of everything unsaid between us feels suffocating. I should’ve said something tonight, anything to show her I still care. But the words felt stuck in my throat, buried under years of regret and fear.
My fingers itch to pick up the phone again, to text her something—an apology, a promise, anything to bridge the gap. But I know better. This isn’t the kind of thing you fix over text.
I glance at the clock. It’s late, but sleep feels impossible. My body is buzzing with restless energy, my mind replaying every moment of the past few hours. The way she looked at me, the way her voice softened when she said my name—it’s all burned into my memory, and it’s driving me insane.
I get up again, pacing the length of the room. My reflection in the window looks as wrecked as I feel—disheveled hair, tense shoulders, dark circles under my eyes.
Tomorrow.
The word echoes in my head, a fragile promise I’m clinging to with everything I’ve got. Tomorrow, I’ll make her see. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to show her that I’m not the same guy who walked away.
I stop in front of the window, staring out at the city lights. For the first time in years, I feel something that scares me even more than regret.
Hope .
It’s a dangerous thing, fragile and fleeting, but it’s there, flickering in the corner of my mind like a candle in the dark.
Tomorrow.
For now, it’s enough.