15. Ethan
15
ETHAN
Back at the house, everything feels off. The air’s too thick, like the walls themselves are waiting to cave in, and the quiet hum of the fridge in the kitchen is suddenly the loudest thing in the world. The tree decorating event plays on repeat in my head, especially the part where I bolted like some rookie afraid of a penalty shot. Smooth, Carter. Real smooth.
Ryan and Liam’s texts pop up on the phone, in a group chat for us trio—both practically vibrating with concern.
Ryan: Dude, you good?
Liam: Did you ditch us? The fans miss your Grinchy face.
They’re worried, but it’s typical. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Leave it to these two to check in, even while throwing shade.
Me: I’m fine. Just needed some air. How’s the event going?
Ryan: It’s chaos, obviously. But fans are loving it. The kid next to me is literally covered in glitter.
Liam: We might lose him in the lights. Glitter boy is practically glowing.
Me: Good to hear. Catch you later.
The messages die down, but that annoying weight doesn’t leave my chest. No number of dumb jokes or Ryan’s constant stream of sarcasm can fix this. Not this time.
The stairs creak as I head down to the kitchen. Could really use a drink right about now. Something stronger than whatever’s sitting in the fridge, but a glass of water will have to do. The cold glass presses against my lips, and for a second, everything freezes—just long enough to keep my head from spiraling out of control.
But there’s no ignoring it forever. David’s room pulls at me like a magnet, its door half-open down the hall. It hasn’t been touched since the day he left. Not a single thing moved. The bed’s still made with that plaid blanket he used to throw over everything, and the books on the shelf are stacked just the way he liked them—his weird, obsessive way of alphabetizing by genre and size.
The room smells like old leather and faint cologne, the kind David used to wear even though it always seemed a little too strong for him. Standing in the doorway, it’s like the accident never happened, like David might walk in at any second, joking about something random or asking about practice. But he won’t. He’s not coming back, and that knowledge sits like a lead weight in my gut.
Fingers trail over the spine of a book he loved— The Art of War . Fitting. This whole situation with Raymond Blue feels like a war, one I’m losing, even before I’ve really fought back. David should be here, enjoying all of this—the success, the wins, everything we worked for. Instead, it’s just me. Alone.
“What am I supposed to do, huh?” My voice comes out rough, almost bitter. Like David can hear me through the walls or wherever he is now. “You’re supposed to be here. You should’ve been the one dealing with this crap, not me.”
Silence answers, like always.
A laugh escapes, hollow and twisted. “You’d know what to do with this Blue situation. You’d tell me to shut him down, ignore the press, just keep playing.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the familiar frustration bubble up. “But that doesn’t stop the problem, does it? The family won’t back off. They’ll keep taking and taking until there’s nothing left.”
Anger flashes hot in my chest. Blue has the power to make it worse. One article from him, and suddenly everyone’s talking. And the family? They’re waiting in the wings like vultures, ready to swoop in and take advantage of whatever chaos comes next. Give in now, and they’ll keep coming back for more. Give them an inch, and they’ll bleed me dry.
My fingers tighten around the edge of the bookshelf. “You should be here,” I mutter, teeth clenched. “This shouldn’t be on me. It shouldn’t have been you.”
But it was. It always will be.
David’s shadow hangs over everything—his absence a constant reminder of what’s been lost. And maybe that’s what makes this harder. Because every decision, every choice, is a reminder that he’s not here to make any of them.
The door creaks from down the hall, and Holly’s voice echoes softly, breaking through the fog of thoughts. “Ethan?”
I step out of the room, the weight of David’s absence still clinging to me like a second skin. Holly’s standing there, eyes soft, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to shield from something more than just the cold. Without a word, she closes the distance and wraps her arms around me. Warmth floods through the cold that’s been sitting there for hours.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers into my chest, her breath warm against the fabric of my shirt. “About today. The interview ... all of it. It’s my fault.”
I shake my head, the heaviness still there but loosening slightly with her so close. “It’s not your fault. Blue would’ve found a way to mess with me whether you invited me or not.”
She pulls back just enough to look up at me, eyes filled with guilt. “I feel like I led you into it, though. It was my idea to have you at the interview. I should’ve known better.”
Something in my chest tightens. This guilt is not hers to bear. My hand moves on its own, brushing a stray curl behind her ear and a wry smile twists my lips. “Believe me, no one can predict what Blue’s gonna pull. He’s a professional sleaze.”
She lets out a soft laugh, but it’s strained, and that guilt is still written all over her face. “I just want to make it better. I hate seeing you like this.”
The knot in my chest loosens a little more, but there’s still a war going on inside. The need to connect to her, to enjoy her shield from all this mess, is strong. But the more she gets involved, the more tangled everything becomes.
Her voice pulls me back. “Has he always gone after you like that?”
My brow furrows, confused by the question. “Blue?”
“Yeah, Blue. He seems to have something against you.”
The knot tightens again. Of course, Blue probably tried to poison her against me. He wouldn’t be doing his job as the world’s most annoying reporter if he didn’t throw a few jabs in her direction. “Did he tell you anything about me?”
Holly shrugs, her expression softening. “He acted like he had some kind of deep, dark secret to reveal. But there’s nothing I’ll believe from him. Honestly, he reminds me way too much of Jake. He’s just the sleazy reporter version.”
Hearing her compare Blue to Jake almost makes me laugh. Her trust in me, despite everything, makes the knot in my chest loosen just a little more. Maybe she’s the only person who doesn’t see me as the guy with walls as thick as the rink’s boards.
“Thanks,” I mutter, voice quieter than I meant. Her words and the belief they connote mean more than she knows.
Her head tilts, studying me. “What can I do to help?”
A smile creeps up before I can stop it. “You really wanna know?”
She nods, eyes hopeful. What can she do? Nothing, really. But knowing she’s here, not backing off even when things get messy? It’s enough to make me breathe a little easier. I don’t want to throw this on her, but there’s a part of me—selfish as it sounds—that just needs her right now.
A slow grin spreads. “You could kiss me.”
Her eyes flicker with amusement, a smirk pulling at her lips. “That’s all it takes to fix everything, huh? A kiss?”
“Never said I was complicated.”
She huffs a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Here I was, not knowing the ice king only needs a little kiss to melt.”
My chuckle is low and deep. “Guess you’ve figured me out.”
She arches a brow, stepping closer, the playful glint in her eyes shining bright. “Not even close.” Then, before I can say another word, she’s on her tiptoes, lips brushing against mine in the softest, sweetest kiss.
For a second, everything else fades. The tension, the pressure, the noise—it all disappears, leaving just us. But soft and sweet doesn’t last long. The second her hands slide up my chest, curling into my shirt, the heat between us kicks into overdrive.
And just like that, the space between us disappears. Her lips meet mine, soft and warm, and the weight I’ve been carrying starts to lift. The world fades out for a moment—no Blue, no family drama, no ghosts of the past. Just this. Just her.
The kiss deepens, her hands sliding up to my shoulders, pulling me closer. It’s like every frustration, every bit of anger and pain, melts away with each touch. Nothing else matters. Just the heat between us, the way her body feels pressed against mine.
Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging gently, and it sends a shiver down my spine. My hands move to her waist, gripping her tighter as the kiss grows more intense. There’s a hunger there now—like everything that’s been simmering under the surface has finally boiled over.
She gasps as I pull her even closer, the sound sending a spark through me. The kiss becomes more desperate, more demanding. Her body arches against mine, and the tension that’s been building for so long snaps, igniting something we can’t stop.
Clothes start to come off in a flurry of movement—her shirt first, then mine, hitting the floor in a messy pile. Her skin is soft under my hands, and I trace the curve of her back, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.
“Ethan,” she breathes out, her voice barely more than a whisper. It’s the sound of want, of need, and it fuels the fire burning between us.
My lips move to her neck, tasting the soft skin there as her breath hitches. She responds with urgency—fingers gripping my shoulders, naked breasts pressing closer into my naked chest—sending crazed flares of need up my brain. Every inch of her pulls me in, makes everything else disappear until it’s just her, just us.
‘“Come,” I drag her towards the couch, and she falls onto it.
She gazes up at me, her eyes wide as they dance across my face and chest and settle at my hips. It’s almost unsettling to feel her eyes stir me into rock-hard bone without touching. I need her touch. She leans back, giving me an unobstructed view of a pair of gorgeous breasts. I stand still and stare down at her peaked nipples for a moment.
“What?”
“You’re so gorgeous; you’re irresistible, Holly.”
She laughs. I lean over her, cupping her breasts. She arches into me, her body melting into my hands, against my body. Her chuckle changes to groans, showing how much she loves my touch, the teasing of my hands, my fingers twisting her nipples softly. I go one further, closing my mouth around one nipple, flicking my tongue in teasing circles.
“I want you right now.” She whimpers, grabbing my hand, putting it between her legs, and wiggling her waist to help as I jerk her jeans down to expose wet panties.
“You’re wet,” I whisper, one hand slipping inside her panties. She growls, pushing against the hand, wholly insatiable and out of control. “I’m glad you’re ready for me.”
My teeth nip her earlobe, and two fingers slip in to send her gasping.
“Ethan—” Her eyes shut, and her head drops on my shoulder.
I lift her jaw with the other hand. “I want to see the look in your eyes as you come, love.”
Her eyes spread wide. I smile devilishly, slowly pumping my fingers into her heat, slow and steady, enjoying her little gasps and her eyes rolling. I make two fingers three, press a thumb against her clit, pumping and pressuring. She bites her lower lip, one hand clamping my shoulder and then she lets out the long moan.
“Oh godddd.” Her body trembles as I finger her through orgasm. When the waves stop, she sits up, pulls her panties down the rest of the way, then grabs my belt. I say nothing as she pulls down the zipper and wraps her hand around the length of my cock.
“Yeah, I want you inside me.” Her eyes flare with a heat that melts me into hot sticky glue.
Heat travels down my spine, red hot and spicy as she races straight to my cock, making it throb. Holly smiles and turns around, dropping down to her hands and knees to show me the most glorious piece of ass. She glances back over her shoulder.
“Ethan?”
“I want to be inside you, too,” I confess as I cup her ass cheek, grazing a finger down the perfect crack and over the anus until I’m back at the dripping heat, pressing against it. She gasps, clenching my finger.
I’m squirming, desperate to be inside her right now. I grab my cock, place it against her raised core and push in. She’s slick with wetness but still holds me firm.
“You’re so tight.” My hands wrap around her hips as I push in deeper. “So perfect.”
Her head drops as she wiggles back into me. “Please fuck me,” she whimpers.
The words fuel me. Now that I’m inside her, I want to claim her, lay a claim that no one else can reach. I push my hips with a new determination. The sounds of my thighs slapping her ass fills the air, mixing with our moans as I drive my cock deep inside her—again and again. Each time I slide through walls of hot, sweet flesh that wrap around me, I can feel both our orgasms building.
It feels like I’m connected to her in every way—body and soul and I can only show her by taking her with a mad fervor. She’s wild, too, arching to give me more of herself, turning around to show me every reaction to the pleasure crossing her face. We move together, groaning and gasping, rocking as if we are one body.
“I’m gonna come again,” she growls. “Ethan, I’m coming?—”
The rest of the words are lost in a deep screech that makes me glad the next house is half a mile away. Her orgasm crashes on us in pulsing waves that sends her trembling and she squeezes me, trapping me in to experience all of the spasms with her.
I barely hold on for ten seconds before I’m groaning, jerking my hips into her as hot wet seismic waves wash over me. I fall on top of her on the couch. She chuckles and I smile, wrapping an arm around her. I let myself feel her. Her presence, her warm breath on my cheek, the feeling of satedness wrapping both of us in a tight cocoon.
All of my troubles fade whenever I look in those big brown eyes.
She’s my get-out-of-jail-free card.