Chapter 38
Blake
The afternoon sunlight slants through the living room windows, sheets of gold highlighting tiny particles of dust shifting on invisible currents. Outside, a car drives down the street, growing louder before fading away, and a bird chirps on the oak tree turning red in the front yard, before going quiet.
I’m home alone, and need to leave for work in about an hour, giving me some time to just sit with my thoughts. Unfortunately for me, they’re running one into the other, circling like a vulture around carrion, amplifying the lingering ache in my chest from the argument with Ethan last night.
Sinking deeper into the worn couch, feet tucked up beneath me, I replay the look on Ethan’s face when he gave me that ultimatum. The way his eyes hardened, the tension in his jaw—I know on some level he was trying to protect me, convince me to let him in, to rely on him, and that his intentions came from a place of love, but it didn’t feel like love at that moment.
It felt like he was forcing his way in, pushing through the walls he’s not supposed to breach.
But even as I think that, another part of me just wants him. The wrap of his arms around me, how his presence alone makes me feel so treasured. I wish we could just move past this, but every time I try to figure out how, I hit a block—I’m just not able to let him in the way he wants.
And it’s not just Ethan that’s got my thoughts in a spin. I pick up my cell and check to see if David’s responded to any of my calls or messages. Nothing .
Pushing myself off the couch, I walk over to the landline on my mom’s desk in the corner of the room. Settling into her black leather office chair, my fingers hover over the buttons for a moment before dialing David’s number.
I’m betting on the fact he doesn’t have my mom’s landline saved in his phone, and that he might actually answer if he thinks it’s not me. I need to know he’s okay—maybe if I can mend things with David, it will free up some brain space to help me figure out how to deal with everything that’s going on between me and Ethan.
The phone rings, and with each ring, my anxiety ratchets up another notch. What if he doesn’t answer? What if he’s still mad? Or worse, what if he’s hurt?
Finally, there’s a click on the other end, and David’s voice comes through. “Yeah?”
“David?” My voice sounds small, even to my own ears. I clear my throat. “It’s Blake.”
There’s a pause, and for a moment, I think he might hang up. When he speaks again, his tone is flat. “What do you want?”
The chill in his voice hurts my already aching heart all over again. “I just wanted to check on you. I was worried after what happened on the boardwalk.”
“Worried? Really? Didn’t seem like it when your boyfriend was beating the crap out of me.”
I wince, even though I know he’s exaggerating. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t want things to go that way. Ethan just… he lost control. He was scared for me.”
“Yeah, well, he’s got a funny way of showing it. He’s a fucking animal.”
It’s very hard to resist the urge to defend Ethan, which surprises me. “Look, I just want to talk, face to face. Maybe we can clear the air.” I try to keep my tone light, hopeful. “Why don’t you come by the Tavern? Or my house. I’m staying with my mom at the moment. I can text you the address if you’ve forgotten.”
There’s a pause, and when David speaks again, his voice is colder than ever. “I remember where you live, Blake.”
There’s a brief, intense silence before the line goes dead with a click, and I’m left staring at the receiver. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
A knock at the door startles me. My heart wedges in my throat, and for a split second, I wonder if it’s David, if he was outside the whole time, and my chest goes tight. But then I hear a familiar soft bark—Bandit.
I hurry to the door, a new kind of tension taking up residence in my chest as I pull it open. Ethan stands there, mud streaked on his clothes from the wetlands, a day’s growth of stubble on the hard line of his jaw, but his expression is soft, almost hesitant, those gray eyes drinking me in. Bandit shoves his nose into my hand, tail wagging, and a smile breaks through, despite everything.
“Hey.” His voice is low, cautious.
“Hey.”
He holds out a small potted peace lily, its white blooms delicate against the dark green leaves. “I brought this for you,” he says softly. “Thought it might bring a little peace to your day after last night.”
I take the plant from him, holding it against my chest like a shield. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, stepping closer. “For everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just care about you so damn much, and I’m scared of losing you.”
Looking at his face, that impossibly handsome face I’ve come to see as mine, looking so regretful, causes some of the anger from last night to soften. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Is that woman okay?”
“Yeah, as well as can be expected. She was glad to see a familiar face last night.” A pause as I grapple with my own feelings. “Look, I’m sorry, too. I probably overreacted to that ultimatum you gave me, but I was angry about the way you wouldn’t take no for an answer. I still am. I need to feel like I’m in control of my own life. Do you understand?”
He steps even closer, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. “I do. And we’ll figure this out. We’re in this together, right?”
“Right.” But even as I say it, a part of me is still holding back, retreating into the safety of the walls I’ve spent years building. He wants to get inside, to be the one I rely on, but I’m just not ready. And deep down, I’m scared that I might never be. Letting him in means risking everything—risking the kind of pain I’ve spent my life trying to avoid.
I take a step back, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek, but the distance between us feels more than just physical. There’s recognition in his eyes—he sees it, too—a flicker of understanding that makes my heart ache.
His jaw tightens slightly, and there’s a brief, almost imperceptible flash of hurt in his expression. It’s like we’re caught in a stalemate, neither sure what move to make next, neither of us willing to walk away.
A glance at my watch. “I was just about to leave for work.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel, the words an excuse to put some space between us, even though they’re true.
Ethan nods. “I’ll walk you out.”
I grab my keys and bag, and we walk to my car parked on the street, Bandit running ahead, sniffing the street light, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on us. When we reach my car, we stop, the moment stretching out.
“I’ll see you later?” he asks, his voice hopeful.
“Yeah,” I say. “Later.”
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek before stepping back. “See you soon.”
“You too,” I reply, climbing into my car.
As I start the engine, I glance in the rearview mirror, watching as he and Bandit head back to his truck. The sight tugs at something deep inside me, but I push it down, focusing on the road ahead.
The distance between us feels wide, filled with landmines that could destroy us both, and I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, wondering if we’ll find a way through this.