Chapter 51
Claire
It took a while before either of us spoke.
The apartment had finally gone quiet, the sharp edge of the moment dulling into something heavy and uncomfortable. The broken glass was still on the floor. The smell of alcohol hung in the air. I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to slow my breathing.
Ethan stood a few feet away, hands at his sides, posture still alert like he hadn’t fully stood down yet.
“Why were you here?” I asked eventually.
My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
He looked at me for a second, then huffed out a breath. “Is that really the most pressing question right now?”
I didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. “I was dropping something off. My mom made chili. She insisted I bring it over. Said you loved it and that it’d go bad if I didn’t.”
I blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he said. “Thank God, that I did.”
I swallowed. “Well… thank you. But I could’ve handled that on my own. Brandon isn’t violent. The worst he would’ve done is throw up on the rug.”
Ethan looked at me like I’d said something absurd.
“I’m still glad I was here,” he said. “I didn’t like the way he talked to you. The meanness of it. Especially toward someone he’s supposed to love.”
“He was drunk,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”
His jaw tightened. “How can you be so calm about it?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, disbelief creeping into his voice, “I don’t understand how you can just brush it off. How you can forgive that so easily. How you’re not even bothered.”
That was the last straw.
“I’m not fine,” I said sharply. The words came out louder than I intended. “I’m not calm. I’m not unbothered.”
Ethan looked stunned.
“How could I be?” I continued, my voice shaking now. “How am I supposed to be okay with the indifference from the person who’s supposed to love me? How am I supposed to shrug it off when the one person I least want to see how miserable my life is, gets a front-row seat to all of it?”
I gestured around the apartment, the mess, the quiet aftermath. My chest felt tight, like the air had thickened.
“And the one person I used to talk to about this,” My voice broke. “The one person who actually knew how bad it felt, my best friend, Jenny.”
The next sentence never made it out.
I choked on the name, breath hitching hard and sudden. Tears came fast, hot and humiliating. I pressed my lips together, but it didn’t help. The sob forced its way out anyway.
Ethan didn’t hesitate.
He crossed the space between us in two steps and pulled me into him, firm and sure. One arm wrapped around my shoulders, the other around my back, holding me like he wasn’t going to let go until I was fine.
I didn’t resist.
I broke completely, fists twisting into the fabric of his T-shirt as I gasped for air, sobbing so hard it felt like my lungs couldn’t quite keep up. He rubbed my back in slow, steady circles, saying nothing but somehow telling me everything I needed in that moment.
“It’s okay,” he murmured quietly. “I’ve got you.”
It took a few minutes before the storm passed. My breathing evened out in small increments, hiccups fading into shaky exhales. I wiped at my face with the back of my hand, embarrassed but too tired to care much.
Ethan leaned back just enough to look at me.
His eyes, steel gray and usually so controlled were shiny.
“Whatever happened between us before,” he said softly, “we were friends first. That didn’t end for me. If you ever need me, Claire, all you have to do is ask.”
I nodded, throat tight again, but for a different reason this time.
Later, after he left and I cleaned up the glass, I sat alone on the couch and let myself think clearly for the first time in weeks.
Brandon hadn’t been worse than the others before him. He just hadn’t cared. He hadn’t hit me. He hadn’t done anything dramatic enough to justify how empty I felt around him.
But I knew, with quiet certainty, that we weren’t good for each other.
And what surprised me most was that when I finally made the decision to end it, I didn’t feel devastated.
I felt relieved.
Relieved to breathe again. Relieved to spend time with Lily without guilt. Relieved to be at the Walkers’ house without wondering who would resent it later.
Relieved to stop pretending that indifference was enough.