16. Natalie
Natalie
The guest room is cozy, with a handmade quilt on the bed and lace curtains on the windows. A vase of fresh wildflowers sits on the nightstand, their honeyed fragrance perfuming the small space.
I unpack my suitcase and try to quiet my nerves. Meeting the parents is one thing. Meeting the parents during a family medical crisis while pretending to be just the physical therapist is something else entirely.
Through the wall, the floorboards creak as Ethan moves around in his childhood bedroom. I can’t help but picture childhood hockey memorabilia and old trophies. I wonder if he has stuffed animals hidden somewhere. I'll have to investigate.
Dinner is pasta and meatballs, and it’s delicious. Lucy dominates the conversation with questions about New York, about my job, and especially how exactly I ended up traveling across the country with her brother.
“So you just dropped everything to come help him with his knee?” She twirls her fork skeptically. “That's very dedicated.”
“That's my job,” I say.
“Uh huh.” She exchanges a look with Danna. “And you live in the same building as him?”
“The team arranged housing for me there. It's convenient for our sessions,” I say, trying to act cool.
Ethan kicks her under the table, and she yelps. “Ow! What? I'm just asking questions. Being friendly.”
“You're being nosy,” Ethan says.
“Same thing.”
After dinner, Danna shoos us toward the living room while she cleans up. Lucy plants herself in front of the TV and flips through channels until she finds a reality show about dating. Ethan sits on the couch, and I take the other end of the couch, maintaining an appropriate distance.
By ten o'clock, everyone is exhausted. Danna announces she's going to bed and Lucy yawns dramatically before heading upstairs. Ethan and I are left alone in the living room, the TV playing in the background.
“I should go to bed too,” I say, standing.
“Yeah.” He stands too, and for a moment we just look at each other. “Thank you for being here.”
“There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”
He glances toward the stairs, then back at me. “Goodnight, Natalie.”
“Goodnight, Ethan.”
I go to my room and change into pajamas, then lie in the unfamiliar bed staring at the ceiling. I can't sleep. My body is tired, but my mind won't stop spinning.
Ten minutes of willing myself to sleep, and a creak comes on my door. It swings open.
“Ethan?” I whisper into the darkness.
“Who else would it be?”
I smile in the darkness as the mattress dips, and he climbs in beside me, pulling me against his chest. He's warm and solid and smells like the soap.
“I couldn't sleep,” he murmurs.
“Me neither.”
We lie there in the dark, wrapped around each other.
“Having you here makes everything easier,” Ethan says. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you came.”
I tilt my head up and find his mouth in the darkness. I meant to just kiss him once, but one always leads to two.
His hand slides under my shirt and rests on the bare skin of my back, warm and possessive. The kiss deepens, and his hand slides from my back to my hip, pulling me tighter against him.
“We have to be quiet,” he whispers.
“I can be quiet.”
His hand slips under my pajama top and trails up my stomach. “If you make a sound, I'm going to stop.”
“That's not fair.”
Ethan pushes my pajama top up and over my breasts, exposing them to the cool air of the room. When his lips close around my nipple, I have to bite down on my knuckle to keep from crying out.
He sucks hard, his tongue swirling around the peak while his hand kneads my other breast. The sensation shoots straight to my core, and I arch into him, desperate for more. He switches sides, giving my other nipple the same treatment, his teeth grazing the flesh until I'm squirming beneath him.
“Oh god, Ethan,” I moan.
“Shh.” He releases my breast with a wet pop. “What did I say about being quiet?”
He moves lower, his mouth trailing hot kisses down my stomach. His fingers hook into the waistband of my pajama bottoms, and he tugs them down my legs, taking my underwear with them.
He settles between my thighs and spreads them wider. I grip the sheets and brace myself.
The first stroke of his tongue makes my hips buck off the bed. He pins me down with one hand on my stomach and licks a slow path from my entrance to my clit. I shove my fist against my mouth to muffle the moan that escapes.
His tongue circles my clit, making my thighs tremble. I want to scream and beg him to go faster, but I know he'll stop if I make a sound.
He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I nearly come off the bed. Two fingers push inside me, and he pumps them in and out while his tongue works my clit, building a rhythm that has me climbing toward the edge at a terrifying pace.
I grip his hair, holding him against me. He groans into my pussy, and the vibration sends another wave of pleasure through me. I'm so close, teetering on the brink, my whole body coiled tight with need.
He adds a third finger and stretches me wider, his tongue flicking faster against my clit. The pressure builds and builds until I can't hold it back anymore. I come with a strangled cry that I muffle against my arm, as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
“Good girl,” Ethan whispers. “You were almost silent except for that little cry at the end.” He crawls up my body and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his lips. “We'll have to work on that.”
I wake up disoriented, and then reality crashes in.
I'm in the guest room, and Ethan spent the night in my bed.
I turn over in a rush, ready to shake him awake and push him toward the door, but his side of the bed is empty.
The pillow still holds the shape of his head, and his scent lingers on the sheets, but he's gone.
I collapse back with a shaky exhale. Last night was risky but so worth it.
That one sweet orgasm. I've never had to be quiet during sex before and the effort of holding back my sounds made everything more intense. My body heats just thinking about it.
I force myself out of bed and into the bathroom. A cool shower helps clear my head, though my skin still tingles with the memory of Ethan’s touch. I dry off and dig through my suitcase for something casual.
I go for a pair of jeans and a blue top. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and secure it with a band, not bothering with makeup. This isn't New York. This is Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and I'm having breakfast with my boyfriend's family.
My boyfriend. Is that what he is now?
I push the question aside and head for the door. In the hallway, I notice Ethan's bedroom door is open and the room is empty. He's downstairs already.
The smell of bacon and coffee guides me down the stairs and into the kitchen. Danna has made enough food to feed an army. On the table, there are pancakes, bacon, eggs, fresh fruit, and something she calls Wisconsin toast, that's basically bread fried in butter and covered with cinnamon sugar.
It's delicious and probably a thousand calories per slice.
“Eat up,” she says, piling more bacon onto my plate. “You're too thin.”
“Mom, she's not too thin,” Ethan says.
“I'll be the judge of that.” Danna refills my orange juice without asking. “Growing boys and their girlfriends need proper nutrition.”
Ethan and I meet gazes and he smiles. I wait for him to correct his mother but he doesn’t.
After breakfast, we drive to the hospital to see Jim. He's more alert today, sitting up in bed and complaining about the food. “The eggs taste like rubber,” he grumbles. “And don't get me started on the coffee.”
“You're not supposed to have coffee,” Danna reminds him.
His gaze turns to me. Despite the hospital gown and the IV in his arm, there's strength in his gaze. “I hear that Ethan is walking without crutches now.”
“He's made excellent progress. He's a hard worker,” I say, shooting Ethan a smile.
“He gets that from me.” Jim shifts in the bed, wincing slightly. “Stubbornness too, unfortunately.”
“I've noticed.”
He laughs, then coughs. Danna is immediately at his side with water, fussing over him until he waves her away.
“I'm fine. Stop hovering.”
We stay at the hospital for an hour before Danna insists we go do something fun. “You didn't come all this way to sit in a hospital room. Take Natalie to see the town. Show her where you grew up.”
Ethan tries to protest, but Lucy, who arrived while we were visiting, immediately volunteers to stay with their parents so we can escape.
Ethan takes me to the community ice rink first. It's a modest building at the edge of town, nothing like the gleaming arena where the Renegades play.
In summer, the ice has been converted to a roller hockey surface, and a group of kids in mismatched gear are scrimmaging while their parents watch from the bleachers.
“This is where I learned to skate,” Ethan says as we find a seat. “My dad brought me here when I was four years old. He put skates on my feet and pushed me onto the ice. I fell about a hundred times that first day.”
I laugh as an image of a huge four-year-old trying to skate.
Ethan stares at the makeshift rink. “I used to spend every free moment here. Before school, after school, and the weekends. The rink manager gave me a key when I was twelve because I was here more than he was.”
“Ethan Ward!”
We both turn toward the voice. An older man with a weathered face and a Badgers cap is climbing the bleachers toward us, his smile wide and welcoming.
“Coach Collins.” Ethan stands to shake his hand. “I didn't know you were still around.”
“Where else would I be? Someone's got to teach these kids how to skate.” Coach Collins claps Ethan on the shoulder, then notices me. “And who's this lovely lady?”
“Natalie Cross. She's a friend from New York.”
Coach Collins winks at me. “Well, any friend of Ethan's is welcome here. This boy was the best player I ever coached. Could've gone straight to the NHL at sixteen if the rules allowed it.”
“He exaggerates,” Ethan says.