Chapter 3
ETHAN
My body is hot, and my heart’s pounding. A storm is brewing under my skin, and if I don’t get a handle on it, I’m going to explode. I stomp back to my orchard, my boots crunching against the uneven path as I let the tension simmering in my body become a maelstrom.
Sophie. Back in Twilight Harbor. My teeth clench at the thought.
Every step seems to echo with the sound of her voice, the fiery bite of her words still fresh in my mind.
She’s the last person I expected to see standing there, hands on her hips, eyes blazing like she hadn’t left without a word all those years ago.
Seeing her today left me wondering how I went from picturing forever with her to watching her leave the first time.
My four-wheeler is right where I left it, my tools scattered across the ground just like my composure. I was supposed to fix the broken gate by the property’s northern edge, but now, I can’t focus. Everything feels like a reminder of her.
Why now? Why here? The questions batter the inside of my skull, my heart demanding answers I know I won’t get. Not from Sophie, anyhow. She’s always had a way of leaving things half-finished—words, promises, and, apparently, goodbyes.
The orchard stretches before me, rows of trees heavy with ripe apples.
Usually, the sight calms me, but today, it’s just a blur of green and red.
I try to ground myself in the familiar scents of the orchard—crisp fruit, damp earth, brought forth by the sunlight filtering through the leaves—but Sophie’s scent clings to me like a second skin.
Her intoxicating smell of vanilla and wildflowers was tinged with something uniquely Sophie. My Omega.
I shake my head, banishing the thought. No. She doesn’t belong to me. Not anymore.
I grab a fallen branch and snap it in two, the sound sharp and satisfying.
The orchard feels smaller now, claustrophobic even. The memories stirred up by seeing her are relentless, digging up things I thought I’d buried long ago.
I can still see her as she was back then—softer, younger, but always with that spark in her eye. The same spark I saw today.
I toss the branch pieces into a pile and turn toward the house. I need a distraction. Or maybe a drink.
Instead, I decide to visit Lily. My sister always has something to say, whether I want to hear it or not.
As I step into Lily’s kitchen, the familiar scent of cinnamon and fresh bread greets me. She’s standing by the counter, her hair pulled into a messy bun, slicing into a loaf of what looks like her latest baking experiment. Her belly bigger every time I see her.
“Ethan!” she chirps, her voice bright as sunshine. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you stomping around like a bull in a china shop?”
I grunt, sitting at the kitchen island and propping my elbows on the granite countertop.
“What?! I can’t just want to see my baby sister?”
“HA!” she scoffs. But her hands fly to her belly and her face pinches in discomfort. I’m instantly alarmed.
“Are you ok?” I don't know anything about pregnant women except that my sister is due any day.
“Yeah, yeah, im good, these Braxton Hicks contractions be brutal”
“Contractions! Should we be going to the hospital?”
“Relax brother, it’s normal and the wrong kind of contractions anyway. So what really brings you here?”
“Just needed to get out of the orchard for a bit.”
Her eyes narrow as she sets down the knife. “Uh-huh. Try again. You look like you’ve just been handed a sack of shit and told it was croissant.”
I laugh briefly at her choice of words, then sigh, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Sophie’s back.”
The words hang in the air for a moment before Lily’s face lights up with something between surprise and glee.
“Wait. Sophie? Sophie Everhart? That Sophie?”
I nod, already regretting bringing it up.
“Oh, my God.” She laughs, the sound bubbling up from her. “What happened? Why was she in the orchard? Did she—”
“She inherited the inn and now is living there,” I interrupt, my tone clipped. “Showed up out of nowhere, on Hawk’s heels no less. Started talking about her property, and how she’s going to fix the old place up.”
Lily’s smile falters, replaced by something softer. “Well, maybe she is. People come back for all kinds of reasons, Ethan.” She pauses and stops to look at me, her eyes softening. “Maybe she’s looking for a fresh start.”
Lily has always been a softy, especially where Sophie’s concerned.
“Or maybe she’s bitten off more than she can chew,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “And it’s all going to be one big fucking disaster. She has no idea what she’s getting into.”
“Hmm.” Lily tilts her head, studying me like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to piece together. “That’s not what has your hackles up, is it?”
I glare at her, but the back door swings open before I can answer, and Brodie steps inside. His presence fills the room instantly, his easy grin and sun-kissed skin radiating the kind of effortless charm that used to make me angry and the girls crazy when we were kids.
His scent fills the room, and I see Lily leaning into his presence. Even though they’re friends, I’ve always thought they might have been more.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, setting a toolbox on the floor and glancing between us.
“Not at all,” Lily says, her tone laced with amusement and affection. “Ethan was just telling me about Sophie Everhart.”
Brodie raises an eyebrow, his amber eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Sophie Everhart? The one you used to—”
“That was a long time ago…emphasis on long,” I snap, cutting him off.
“Huh, I thought you guys said she just disappeared.”
“Well, it seems Sophie has decided to reappear.” I snap, trying to remove the rush of pain and memories that talking about her brings up.
“Touchy,” Brodie says, pulling up a stool next to me and reaching for a cinnamon roll, only to have Lily slap his hand. “So, why’s she here, and why do you have that look on your face?”
“She owns the inn now,” Lily supplies helpfully, ignoring my glare. “Apparently, Ethan ran into her earlier. In the orchard.”
Brodie’s grin widens. “Oh, this just keeps getting better. What’d she say? Did she look good? Did you—”
“She’s a mess,” I say sharply. “The inn’s falling apart, and she’s completely out of her element.”
Lily rolls her eyes and points her finger at me. “You’re so dramatic. She’s probably just trying to get the lay of the land, and you have no idea what she’s capable of now.”
“She should’ve stayed wherever she was,” I mutter, but the words feel hollow even as I say it.
Brodie’s gaze sharpens, and he drops the teasing tone for once. “Sounds like there’s a lot more history there than I thought.”
“There’s no history,” I say quickly—too quickly—though I know the lie is obvious.
“Uh-huh,” Brodie smirks. “Well, if she’s as fiery as you say, maybe this town just got a lot more interesting.”
“Stay out of it,” I warn, but Brodie just laughs, the sound warm and infuriatingly carefree.
“Relax, Ethan. I’m just saying that a little excitement never hurt anyone.”
He grabs an apple from the basket on the counter, tossing it in the air before taking a bite. I watch him, my jaw tightening as that flicker of possessiveness stirs again. Sophie might not be mine, but the idea of Brodie showing up at the inn, flashing that grin of his, makes my blood boil.
“She doesn’t need your kind of help,” I say.
“Everyone needs my kind of help,” Brodie replies, winking at me, his tone light. “But from where I sit, you could use some assistance right now.”
Brodie stands and gives me a one-armed hug around my shoulders as he makes to leave with a knowing smile on his face. A mixture of frustration and something I can’t quite name washes over me.
We follow him out to the porch and wave as Brodie drives off.
Lily nudges me with her elbow, her smile softening.
“You know, big brother, you could just talk to her,” she says.
I shake my head. “It’s not that simple now, and it never was then, either.”
“No,” she agrees, “but maybe it’s worth it. Some of the best things we have in this life are the hardest things to get.”
I don’t respond, my thoughts tangled up and churning as I sit on the old porch swing and watch the orchard sway gently in the evening breeze.
Sophie’s scent lingers in my memory, wrapping around me like a thread I can’t break.
No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I know one thing for sure.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.