CHAPTER 13
Summer
I wake up with a pounding headache and a sour taste in my mouth.
Light filters weakly through the curtains, stabbing at my eyes. My tongue feels like sandpaper.
I blink at the clock. Eight thirty a.m.
Mia. The shop.
I shoot out of bed, and immediately regret it. The room tilts, spinning in slow, miserable circles. I groan and press a hand to my forehead, then spot the aspirin and water bottle on the nightstand. Ethan.
I swallow the aspirin and chug the water, letting it wash away the sour taste clinging to my tongue. My throat burns, but I force it down, then stumble toward the bathroom to brush my teeth.
The mirror stops me cold.
I’m still in last night’s dress. My makeup is smudged beyond saving, making me look like a raccoon that survived a storm, and my hair… well, it’s now a bird’s nest with commitment issues.
Great. Just great.
I shake my head and scrub at my face, brushing my teeth until the mint sting numbs my tongue. A splash of cold water, a bit of cream, and I’m almost human again. Then the panic hits.
Mia. She should already be at school.
My stomach drops. I sprint down the hall in my stupid dress, bare feet slapping the floor. When I reach her room, I stop dead.
Her bed is made. Curtains open. Pajamas folded neatly on top.
She’s gone.
My heart stutters. “Mia?” My voice comes out small and broken. I rush downstairs, pulse hammering, ready to scream for help.
And freeze.
The kitchen is alive with morning. Dex, Jude, Ethan, and Cas fill the space like they own it. The smell of coffee and pancakes wraps around me like a blanket. Josh stands by the coffeepot, pouring with practiced ease, and Lily’s at the stove flipping pancakes, her humming soft and steady.
“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Ethan smirks over the rim of his mug.
Dex scratches his head, amusement lighting his eyes. “Rough night?”
I blink, realizing how I must look, makeup smeared, hair wild, wearing last night’s dress like a walking cautionary tale. Ethan swats Dex in the back of the head before I can even respond. Cas just shakes his head, grinning.
“Left Penny asleep in bed,” Cas says proudly. “She said she’s calling off her appointments today.”
“Mia?” My voice cracks.
Ethan steps closer, smile soft, reassuring. “Mom got her ready, and I took her to school. She’s fine.”
The words loosen something tight inside me until the memories rush back: the beers, the laughter, the singing, the almost-kiss.
“I need a shower,” I squeak, cheeks burning, and bolt for the stairs. I want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
The dress hits the floor in seconds, and I’m under the shower before I can think. The hot water pounds against my skin, washing away the smell of beer and shame.
Oh God. I tried to kiss him.
Steam fills the bathroom, fogging the mirror, hiding me from myself. I’m never drinking again.
When I’m finally clean, dressed, and my hair dry, I take a deep breath and head back downstairs, bracing myself for the teasing I know is coming.
But it’s quiet. Only Ethan’s there now.
He’s leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled up, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Mama left you some pancakes,” he says, nodding toward the plate on the table. Then he pours two coffees, one black, one with cream and sugar, and slides the latter in front of me.
“How do you know how I take my coffee?” I ask, suspicious and grateful all at once.
He shrugs, calm, unhurried. “Saw you make it like that for yourself more than once at the shop. Figured that’s how you like it.”
“You memorized that?”
He smiles, devastatingly slow. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”
The air shifts. His eyes hold mine, steady, unguarded, and something inside me trembles. It’s too much, too warm, too intimate. I drop my gaze to the coffee, tracing the rim of the mug like it will anchor me.
“Oh,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage.
“Mia was happy to go to school in her princess car seat today,” he says after a moment, voice gentle.
I blink, guilt rising again. “I’m sorry you and your mom had to take care of her. I should’ve never had that much to drink.”
He shakes his head. “You’re allowed to have fun, Summer. And bringing that sweet girl to school was fun. Mama danced into her room to wake her up, and we sang the whole way there. She’s happy.” His smile softens. “You got to let loose a little.”
Then he reaches across the table and takes my hand. His skin is rough, warm, steady. My pulse stutters, tripping over itself.
“Everything’s okay,” he murmurs, searching my eyes.
I want to believe him. I want to live in that calm he carries. But I can’t. Not yet.
“I need to get to the coffee shop,” I say quickly, pulling my hand back. “I’m already late.”
The loss of his touch is immediate and sharp.
“Mom made some pies and cookies for you to sell,” he says, standing. “So you don’t have to worry about that.” He pulls out five big boxes, each tied neatly with twine. The smell of sugar and cinnamon fills the air.
“This is too much,” I protest. “She shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble.”
“She loved doing it,” he says, stepping closer. His voice lowers. “You know she can’t help herself when it comes to baking.”
He’s close now. I feel him before I see him, his heat, his scent, the faint rasp of his breathing. My pulse races.
Then his fingers tilt my chin, lifting my face until I meet his eyes.
“It’s okay to let people help you,” he whispers. “To let someone take care of you for a change.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. My breath hitches. The air between us hums with something electric, unspoken.
“Summer…” His thumb brushes over my lower lip, slow, deliberate. The world narrows to that single touch.
“No.” The word slips out, fragile and trembling. I step back, then another, the space between us sharp as a blade. “Ethan, no.”
He looks like I’ve just taken the ground out from under him.
“Why not, Summer? You know I’m crazy about you.
And I’m crazy about Mia.” He rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated, helpless.
A part of me melts, soft, desperate, aching to believe, but another part, the part stitched together with fear and old wounds, fights harder.
It grips me by the throat, making every safe instinct scream.
I let fear command my voice, the way it has for years. Safer to wound first than risk being broken.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Why?” His gaze pins me in place. “Tell me why.”
If I tell him the truth, that I’m terrified he could shatter me with his kindness, I’ll fall apart right here. Because he’s everything I stopped believing I deserved.
So I let fear do the talking.
I pull on the mask I swore I buried for good. I meet his eyes and lie.
“I don’t like you like that, Ethan. You’re just a friend to me. Nothing more.”
The second the words leave my mouth, something inside me cracks. Hurt flashes across his face, sharp and raw, before he shuts it down, stiffening his shoulders.
“Eth…”
“No, I got the message.” His voice is calm, too calm. “I came on too strong. Won’t happen again.” He draws a slow breath, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you need help carrying those boxes out?”
He’s standing right there, close enough to touch, but he feels miles away. The distance between us is unbearable.
“No.” My voice splinters. I shake my head.
“Okay.” He nods once, jaw tight. “See you around, Summer.”
The door closes behind him with a hollow thud, and the silence that follows is deafening.
Tears blur my vision before I can stop them. I sink into the chair, bury my face in my hands, and cry, for him, for me, for the pieces I just shattered on purpose.
I tell myself it’s for the best.
But God, it doesn’t feel like it. I feel like I just broke my own heart along with his. I feel the weight of every wall I’ve built around myself.
And for the first time, it feels like the walls I depend on are closing in, pressing so tight I can barely breathe.