18. Ethan
18
Ethan
E than turned the key again, pumping the gas pedal as if willing the truck to roar to life. No luck.
He let out a breath and looked at Kara. “Could be the battery. I’ll get out and look.”
With a resigned sigh, Ethan reached for the door handle. As he eased out of the driver’s seat and lifted the creaking hood, the soft thud of the passenger door echoed behind him.
A few seconds later, Kara appeared at his side.
“Hey, you don’t have to get out. I’ll only be a sec,” Ethan said, glancing back at Kara.
Kara shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Besides, who’d be your trusty flashlight holder?” She flicked on her phone’s flashlight.
“Fair enough. Just, uh, watch out for the grease. Don’t want it to get on that pretty dress of yours.”
Or pretty you.
“Please, I’m always covered in something—dog hair, mud, you name it. But thanks for the consideration.” Kara edged closer, her arm brushing his. “This work for you?”
Ethan swallowed hard. “Yeah, uh, perfect. Thanks.”
Kara moved closer, peering into the engine. “So, what’s your diagnosis? Battery issue, or something else?”
Ethan’s eyes flicked to the battery, but his focus lingered on her. “Oh, uh ... Yeah. Pretty sure it’s the battery.”
Kara turned, her face only inches from his, lowering the flashlight. “Are you sure?” Her voice softened, barely above a whisper.
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat as he met her gaze. He swallowed, nodding slowly. “Uh, I think so.”
In that moment, as their eyes locked, the years between them melted away like snow in springtime. Then the world around him seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them. The space between them shrank, and her lips parted slightly.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, every muscle in his body tightened, drawn to her like gravity. All he could think about was closing the distance, but he didn’t. He hovered there, inches away, his gaze on her—waiting, wanting.
BEEP! BEEP!
Instinct kicked in before thought, and Ethan stepped in front of Kara, one arm extended as he shielded her from the sudden noise. His hand brushed her shoulder, steadying her as he glanced around.
Kara blinked, dazed, her arms crossing over her chest. “What was that?”
Ethan turned, heart still racing, right in time to see his old neighbor pulling up beside them. The tension in his shoulders eased, but his arm lingered near Kara, as if reluctant to let the moment slip.
“You all right there, Ethan?” Clyde called out. Jumping out of his truck, he walked over to them. “Car trouble?”
Ethan’s pulse hammered, but he forced a smile. “Yeah ... something like that. Appreciate you stopping.”
Clyde winked. “Don’t go thanking me yet. I haven’t fixed a dern thing.”
Kara stepped back as Clyde made his way over to look under the hood.
“Dead battery?” he asked.
Ethan shrugged. “I think so. It was working fine earlier—”
“No worry there. I’ve got jumper cables in my cab.” Clyde walked back over to his truck.
Ethan glanced over at Kara, giving her a sympathetic smile. She let out a chuckle, pulling her phone back out as Clyde came back with the cables.
“All right, you wanna hook those up, Ethan?” Clyde asked, holding out the two cables.
“Of course.” He grabbed the cables from Clyde’s hand and hooked them up to his battery.
“Let me start ‘er up,” Clyde said. “Then you can give yours a go.”
Kara turned off her phone’s flashlight and leaned against the side of Phil’s Diner.
“You want to wait in the truck?” Ethan asked, opening the driver’s side door.
Kara shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m good here.”
“Alright. Hopefully we can get going soon.” Ethan climbed into the truck and waited. After hearing Clyde’s truck roar to life next to him, he held his breath and turned the key. The truck turned on like clockwork. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ethan jumped out of the truck and unhooked the cables.
“Thanks a million, Clyde. Really.” He handed the jumper cables back.
“Not a problem at all. And you get that little lady home safe, you hear?” Clyde pointed at Kara.
Ethan nodded. “Will do. Thanks again.”
As Clyde’s taillights disappeared down the road, a gentle silence settled over the parking lot. Ethan and Kara stood as if they were each waiting for the other to say something first.
“Uh, should we get going?” Kara asked. “Now that the truck is running?”
Ethan nodded and circled to the passenger side. “Of course. Let me get your door,” he said, opening the door as Kara approached. Offering his hand, he helped her up into the seat, then gently closed the door behind her before hurrying back to his side and sliding into the driver’s seat. Ethan fired up the engine, and they pulled onto the road.
Stars twinkled like scattered diamonds over Hadley Cove as they cruised down Main Street. Wisps of clouds, barely visible, floated across the deep indigo sky. They passed the market, its windows shimmering with the warm glow of the streetlights, while the brass fixtures of Hadley Cove Savings & Loan glinted in the moonlight.
“Hey, there’s the old ice cream place,” Ethan pointed out. “You still like butter pecan?”
“Of course—it’s the only flavor worth getting. Charlotte loves it too. It’s her favorite.”
“She’s her mother’s daughter,” Ethan said, smiling at Kara.
She gave him a small smile, then looked away. “And there’s the old pizza place.”
“Do their pies still taste like cardboard?” Ethan asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Kara said with a chuckle. “Don’t know how they’re still in business.”
“Well, if they’re still the only pizza place in town, I guess folks don’t have a choice. It’s cardboard or nothing.”
Kara chuckled. “They still are. But I seem to remember you eating a slice or two.”
“Only because I was sharing it with you,” Ethan said, turning onto a road that went along the water.
Kara didn’t reply, but Ethan could see that she was smiling as she rolled down her window, leaning out to let the breeze catch her outstretched hand.
Seven minutes later, they pulled up in front of Kara’s tiny house. Ethan’s hand moved to the door handle, ready to step out into the night. But before he could make a move, Kara reached out, her fingers brushing his arm.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door, Ethan.”
“Yes, I do.” He hopped out and jogged over to her door, opening it. “Old habits, you know.”
Kara nodded, taking his hand as she got out. “That was a long time ago.”
“It was,” Ethan said, walking up the stone path to her porch.
“Well,” Kara turned to him, taking her keys out of her purse, “I had a nice time tonight.”
“So did I,” Ethan told her, though his voice came out quieter than he expected. He didn’t want the night to end—not after what almost happened. He had been so close to her. So close.
And now it’s over.
Kara smiled, but there was something in her eyes that made Ethan pause.
Is she hesitating? ... Is she thinking about ... Should I say something and break the silence, or leave it for another night?
For a brief second, it looked as if she might say something more, something that could bring them back to the moment before Clyde interrupted. But instead, she fidgeted with her keys.
“Should I come by tomorrow?” Ethan asked, though it felt like such a small thing to say after everything that almost was.
Kara nodded. “Sounds good.”
Another silence stretched between them.
Ethan shifted his weight, unsure of what to say next, his eyes wandering to the small porch behind her. The driftwood loveseat, weathered but inviting, caught his attention first, surrounded by hanging ferns that swayed gently in the breeze. A whimsical wind chime made of colorful sea glass tinkled softly, catching glints of starlight. He could almost picture her there, in the quiet of the evening, barefoot and sipping sweet tea as she stargazed, always keeping one ear out for her rescue animals.
The whole setup had a cozy, intimate feel—simple yet full of life, like Kara. It made him want to stay longer, say something more to fill the silence. But what?
Just say something. Anything.
Ethan opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The words were stuck tangled in a mess of emotions he couldn’t explain. His hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach for her, to hold on to whatever it was they had rekindled tonight.
Kara, wait ... The thought came, but his voice didn’t follow. He wanted to say her name, to stop her from leaving, but the words remained stuck within him.
Before he could gather himself, she turned to the door, fiddling with the lock. And just like that, the moment was gone.
“Um, well, good night,” Kara said.
“Yeah. Good night.”
Sticking his hands in his pockets, Ethan waited until she unlocked the door and went inside, then walked back to his truck.
As he pulled away from Kara’s house, the soft glow of her porch light faded in his rearview mirror. Driving through town, Ethan’s thoughts kept returning to her—the easy conversation over dinner, her laugh echoing in the warm evening air, and that particular smile that had always made his heart skip. Then there was that moment—breathless and suspended in time—when he’d leaned in, drawn to her by an irresistible pull. Kara had tilted her face up, her eyes fluttering shut. He could almost feel the warmth of her lips, just a heartbeat away.
What if Clyde hadn’t shown up?
Ethan sighed, the memory of their almost-kiss replaying in slow motion—equal parts regret and longing. But as he rounded the corner and passed Walker’s Pharmacy, the thought evaporated, and his stomach twisted, dragging him back to the last time he’d set foot there ...
Ethan parked his truck outside Walker’s Pharmacy and hopped out. Last night, his phone had slipped from his grip, sinking into the ocean—lost to the currents forever. He’d promised Kara he would call her today, but now all he had was an empty pocket and a sense of urgency to replace the phone before she thought he’d forgotten. With a sigh, he squared his shoulders, hoping Mr. Walker might be in a generous enough mood to advance his paycheck a few days.
As Ethan neared the entrance, something felt wrong. There, hunched before the door, stood Whitaker Walker—or rather, a shadow of the man Ethan remembered. Gone was the crisp white coat and neatly combed hair. Instead, a rumpled shirt clung to his thin frame, and bruises bloomed in sickly purples and yellows across his skin.
Mr. Walker’s trembling hands—hands that looked far older than they should—fumbled with a piece of paper as he tried to tape it to the door.
As Ethan drew closer, the scrawled words came into focus: Closed Until Further Notice.
“Mr. Walker?” Ethan’s voice came out softer than intended. “What’s going on? You all right?”
The pharmacist’s head snapped around at the sound. For a heartbeat, he seemed not to recognize Ethan, but then he lunged with a speed that belied his disheveled state.
Ethan barely had time to react before Mr. Walker grabbed his shirt, slamming him into the brick wall. The breath rushed out of his lungs, leaving him gasping.
“Hey! What the—” Ethan wheezed, hands scrabbling to break free of the older man’s iron grip.
Bloodshot eyes, rimmed with red, locked onto Ethan’s. Grief and fury twisted Mr. Walker’s face into something unrecognizable—something darker. “It’s your fault! You killed her. If you hadn’t—”