16. Ethan
Chapter sixteen
Ethan
I walked into the forum expecting a fight.
I figured there’d be at least three people ready to tear me apart before I’d even finished my first sentence. Instead? Silence. Focused eyes. Ami’s questions guiding the discussion like she’d been chairing town meetings her whole life.
By the end, folks were actually smiling. Patting my shoulder. Saying things like good job instead of good luck with that .
Ami and I step out into the night, the air cool and sharp with the promise of fall. We walk in that easy silence that only exists when you’re exactly where you want to be.
The whole time, I’m thinking about how every day lately feels… different. Brighter, sharper, heavier in my chest.
Ever since those kisses…
“Hey, Ami?”
“Yeah?” she asks, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
She tilts her head. “Nothing. Why?”
I shove my hands in my pockets, trying not to look like I’m holding my breath. “Charity event at the firehouse. I need a date. Interested?”
Her brows lift, confusion sliding into a slow, sly grin. “My, my. Ethan Campbell, are you asking me out?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, grinning back. “You just clean up well. Would be a shame not to show you off.”
She laughs, and I swear my knees almost give. “You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
“So… is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes.”
By the time we reach her porch, we’ve drifted closer without realizing it. Her eyes flick down to my mouth, mine to hers. The air’s charged enough to start a fire.
I want to kiss her—bad—but I take her hand instead, pressing my lips to the back of it.
“Goodnight, Ami.”
I walk away before I change my mind. I fall asleep with her laugh in my head, knowing I’m already in too deep.
The next night, Ami steps out in a deep red gown that fits her like it was made for her.
Her hair’s soft around her face, makeup flawless.
She’s not just beautiful—she’s breathtaking.
And I forget how to breathe. My oldest friend, the girl I used to race bikes with, is suddenly the kind of woman men write bad country songs about.
She’s always been beautiful, but tonight?
She’s the kind of gorgeous that makes my brain short-circuit.
We banter all the way to the firehouse—about music, pie, and whether my truck counts as “clean” if it’s only been through one car wash this month. Spoiler: she says no. Every time she laughs, I have to force my eyes back to the road.
Inside, the firehouse is buzzing—music, laughter, the smell of barbecue. Ami charms my friends in seconds, like she’s been part of the crew forever. Watching her laugh with them is a little surreal… and a lot perfect.
When the crowd starts to thin, I lean close. “Want to get some air?”
She nods, slipping her arm through mine.
Outside, the night’s crisp, the stars spread wide above us. We’re halfway down the block when a sharp, pitiful meow cuts through the quiet.
“Did you hear that?” she asks, scanning the shadows.
We follow the sound to a tree, and sure enough—a tiny kitten’s stranded halfway up, yowling like it’s auditioning for a sad commercial.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Ami says.
“Kittens are curious,” I tell her. “Guess she found out curiosity’s overrated.”
Her eyes find mine. “We have to help her, Ethan.”
Those eyes could get me to do just about anything.
I hand her my coat. “Hold this. And don’t let anyone steal my wallet.”
“Your wallet’s safe. Your dignity if you fall… not so much,” she teases.
I start climbing. “Careful!” she calls when a branch wobbles.
“You worried about me, or just the cat?”
“Both! But mostly the cat.”
The kitten hisses like I’m her mortal enemy, but I murmur to her until she lets me scoop her up. When my feet hit the ground, Ami takes her instantly, tucking the ball of fur against her chest.
We find the rest of the litter nearby, and Ami crouches to return the runaway.
“They’re so cute,” she says.
“They are.”
“That was a nice thing you did.”
“Agreeing that kittens are cute? Yeah, I know.”
She gives me a look. “Saving her, you idiot.”
I grin. “If something needs saving, I save it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a three-pound ball of fluff.”
She smiles at me in the moonlight, and it’s enough to tilt the whole world.
“This is so cliché,” I murmur.
“I know,” she whispers back, that smile deepening. “But I think I like clichés.”
That’s all the invitation I need. I close the distance, brushing my lips over hers. She sighs into the kiss, fingers curling in my shirt like she’s been waiting for this as much as I have. It’s soft at first, then warmer, lingering just long enough to make it hard to pull away.
When I do, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes shining.
“Come on,” I say, lacing my fingers with hers. “Let’s go home before I climb another tree just to kiss you again.”