Chapter 7ETHAN
CHAPTER 7
ETHAN
I lean back in my chair, laughing as Dotty recounts a story about some disaster involving a loose raccoon and a birthday cake. She’s got a way of telling stories that makes even the smallest details seem larger than life, and honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had a dinner this laid-back.
“You’re telling me the raccoon just strolled in and made itself at home?” I ask, still grinning.
“Oh, honey, it didn’t just stroll—it strutted,” Dotty replies, shaking her head. “Like it owned the place! I had to chase it out with a broom.”
“You’re braver than me,” I say, raising my glass in a mock toast.
Dotty laughs, clearly pleased, and even Mia’s joining in, her smile wide as she listens. I glance at Riley, expecting her to laugh, too, but she’s busy poking at her meal like it owes her money.
Her fork clinks against her plate as she stabs a piece of chicken, her expression deliberately neutral. But every so often, her gaze flicks to mine, like she’s daring me to say something.
I catch Mia glancing between us, a sly smile tugging at her lips. She’s enjoying this way too much, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at her obvious matchmaking attempts.
“So, Riley. You’ve been avoiding me,” I say, my voice light but edged with curiosity. “Did I do something, or is ignoring me just your new favorite hobby?”
Her lips press into a thin line, and for a split second, I catch a flicker of something behind her eyes—hesitation, maybe even guilt—but it’s gone before I can figure it out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on,” I reply, leaning forward a little. “You’ve been dodging me all week. I wave, and you look the other way. I try to say hello, and you suddenly remember a very important phone call. And here I was, thinking we could actually be friends.”
Her eyes finally meet mine, and for a moment, there’s something in her expression I can’t quite read. Annoyance? Guilt? Whatever it is, it’s gone before I can pin it down.
“I’ve been busy,” she says flatly, taking a sip of her water.
“Busy avoiding me?” I shoot back, my tone teasing but just sharp enough to make a point.
Mia, ever the meddler, perks up. “Oh, this is interesting. Do go on.”
“Mia,” Riley warns, glaring at her.
“What?” Mia says innocently. “I’m just saying you have been a little… elusive lately.”
“I’m not elusive,” Riley says, crossing her arms. “I just have better things to do than stand around chatting all day.”
“Better things?” I ask, arching a brow. “Like what? Planting more roses? Rearranging the tool aisle?”
She glares at me, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged. It’s not anger exactly, but something close—something that makes my pulse quicken despite myself.
“Okay, you two,” Dotty cuts in, her voice calm but firm. “Let’s keep it civil, shall we?”
Riley breaks eye contact first, focusing back on her plate. I take a sip of water, trying to shake the strange tension that’s settled over the table.
The rest of dinner goes by in a blur of small talk and laughter, but every time I catch Riley’s eye, she looks away. And every time she does, it only makes me more determined to figure her out.
As we’re clearing the table, Mia corners me, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Mia leans in like she’s about to share state secrets. “You know, Riley’s a lot like a stray cat. Skittish, tough to win over, but once you’ve earned her trust, she’s all yours. ”
“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” I say dryly. “Do I need to bring tuna or something?”
“Maybe just patience,” she replies, her grin wicked. “You’ll need a lot of that.”
I glance back at Riley, who’s helping Dotty in the kitchen. Her sleeves are rolled up, and her movements are focused and deliberate. It’s spot-on, really. She keeps herself guarded, like she’s daring anyone to try and figure her out. And yet, I can’t deny the pull to try anyway.
“Thanks for the advice,” I say, my tone dry.
“Don’t mention it,” Mia replies, patting me on the shoulder.
As I step out onto the porch later, the cool night air feels sharp against my skin. Riley follows not long after, her expression unreadable, but I can’t let the night end without saying something.
“Riley,” I call out, catching her just as she’s about to step off the porch.
She pauses, turning to face me, her expression guarded. “What?”
I hesitate for a second, the words sitting heavy on my tongue. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”
She frowns, crossing her arms. “I’m not pushing you away.”
“Really?” I say, stepping closer. “Because it feels like every time we start to get along, you throw up another wall. What are you so afraid of?”
I take a deep breath, my words teetering on the edge of anger and something softer. I’m not mad at her—I’m just tired of feeling like I’m chasing shadows.
Her arms cross over her chest like a shield, and I can almost see the walls she’s building in real time. It’s maddening, but it only makes me want to try harder.
Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to brush me off again. But then her eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them that feels raw, like she’s about to say something real.
But before she can answer, the porch light flickers and Dotty’s voice calls out from inside. “Riley, sugar! Can you help me with dessert?”
Riley exhales sharply, breaking the moment. “I have to go,” she says, brushing past me and disappearing into the house.
I stand there for a long moment, the unanswered question lingering in the air between us.
T he night air is as crisp as the apple pie we just enjoyed, and I lean against the porch railing, letting the cool breeze settle around me. The stars above are so clear here, the kind of thing I never really noticed in the city.
Dotty and Mia are sitting on the porch swing, their voices low and comfortable, talking about the book club. I glance over at Riley, standing a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly as she looks out at the yard. There’s a familiar distance between us, one that I know she’s deliberately keeping. She’s still got her walls up, and no matter how many times I try to break through, she’s always one step ahead, keeping me just out of reach.
I wonder if I’m chasing something impossible. But then I remember the way her eyes softened earlier, just for a second, and I know it’s worth the effort. Riley might be all sharp edges and walls, but I’ve always liked a challenge.
I let out a breath, pushing off the railing. “So, what’s the latest in the thrilling world of hardware?” I ask, trying to keep the mood light. “Big run on hammers this week?”
Riley gives me a side-eye, that trademark smirk of hers tugging at the corner of her lips. “You really don’t stop, do you?”
I grin, leaning back against the porch post, enjoying the way she’s looking at me with that little bit of challenge in her eyes. “Just trying to keep things interesting.”
“Well, it’s already interesting enough for me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “The last thing I need is you making it more complicated.”
I chuckle, taking a step closer. “Hey, I don’t complicate things. I’m just offering a little fun.”
She gives me a look like she’s trying to decide if I’m being genuine or just messing with her. But then, for a second, I see a little something in her eyes—maybe it’s curiosity, it’s perhaps hesitation—but it’s there. And for that second, I think maybe, just maybe, we’re connecting on a level that doesn’t involve sarcasm or avoidance.
“You know,” I start, the words coming out before I can stop them, “you’ve got this whole thing about keeping your distance, Riley.”
She doesn’t respond right away; she watches me with that guarded expression. The tension is thick between us now, like a string pulled too tight.
“You always put up a wall,” I continue, my voice softer. “And I get it. It’s easier that way. But you don’t have to push me away, you know. I’m not trying to be the guy who makes everything more complicated.”
She flinches slightly, like she’s not expecting me to push through that wall so directly. For a second, I think I’ve gone too far. Maybe I should back off, but then I remember something she said a while ago—about how her mom used to garden and how much it meant to her. It was such a small thing, but it stuck with me.
“I heard you talking about your mom’s garden,” I say, my voice low, more sincere than before. “It’s clear you’ve put a lot of yourself into this place. The way you care about the little things here, it doesn’t go unnoticed.”
Riley’s eyes flicker, just for a moment, like she’s surprised that I remembered. She opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it.
“You don’t have to keep everything locked up, Riley,” I say, my gaze softening. “I see how hard you work to keep everything together, and it’s not just the yard or the shop. It’s you. And for what it’s worth, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t expect you to open up overnight, but I’m not going to run, either. ”
She holds my gaze for a long time, and for a brief moment, I think maybe she’s letting her guard down. But then she looks away, the walls going back up in an instant.
“Thanks, I guess,” she says, her voice stiffening again. “But I don’t need saving, Ethan.”
I take a step back, feeling the space between us widen once more. “I’m not trying to save you, Riley. I’m just trying to prove that not everyone walks away.”
The silence lingers, heavy and unresolved, as she turns to head back inside.
“You’ve still got that wall up, haven’t you?” I call after her, not in frustration, but because I can’t help myself.
She pauses at the door, glancing back at me with an unreadable expression. “It’s safer that way,” she says quietly before stepping inside.
I stand there for a moment, my chest tight with the weight of her words. She’s right—those walls are her shield, but they’re also her prison. And for a fleeting second, I wonder if she even realizes it.
There’s something there—a moment of connection I didn’t expect—and yet, here we are, back to square one.
I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair. Riley hasn’t made any of this easy, nor will she. But whatever this is between us, I know I’m not giving up on it just yet.