Chapter 11 #2
Her mother had been young, but she’d also been a great mom. Maggie had always been a priority. Plus, her mother had lived in Deep River her entire life. She knew the waters surrounding this town almost better than anyone. How could she have made such a careless mistake?
Ethan’s brows flickered. “Have you ever asked for the official report relating to her death?”
“A few years ago, I emailed the sheriff’s office. Ward told me to fill out a request form. I did, then I never heard back.”
Ethan scowled. “Lazy asshole.”
“I can try again.” She swallowed, eyes still on him. “How have you been?”
“You haven’t been responding to many of my texts.”
Of course not. Because every time he messaged her, her heart gave this it’s-more-than-friendship kick.
“Sorry, it’s been a busy week.” What a load of baloney. She’d been on the laptop, making blog and social media posts, reconnecting with her following before she, hopefully, opened up a travel business.
They lay there for almost an hour, watching as the sun went down and stars began to fill the sky. They ate taffy and talked about everything and anything. She felt more at peace than she had in the last eleven years.
When a shiver rolled down her spine, Ethan sat up. “Come on. Time to go. It’s getting cold. How’d you get here?”
“I walked.” It was only a thirty-minute walk from Polly’s. Perks of being in a small town.
Ethan’s jaw clicked. “Maggie—”
“I know. It was dumb. I literally wasn’t thinking. I just felt sad. So I grabbed my holiday sweater and left.”
He sighed, a long I-do-not-approve sigh, before packing the stuff back into the bag and crouching in front of her. “Hop on.”
“You want me to climb onto your back?”
He turned his head and grinned. “Think you’re too old?”
No. She was too in love with the guy. “My jeans are already wet. You don’t need—”
“Maggie, I’m not letting you walk through the water again. Either get on or I throw you over my shoulder.”
Her jaw dropped. He couldn’t be serious.
He lifted a brow in challenge. He was.
“Fine.” She swallowed before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. His large palm went to her thigh as he rose, tugging her a bit higher, and holy Hannah, she felt that hand everywhere.
He took long strides through the river. “See. It’s not that bad, is it?”
It wasn’t anywhere near the vicinity of bad—that was the problem.
When he got to the bank, he didn’t put her down. And she didn’t try to get off his back. He just continued to carry her through the forest to his truck.
They didn’t speak the entire way back to her place. For her, it was one hundred percent because she couldn’t get the feel of Ethan’s palm on her thigh out of her head.
Was he silent because he felt guilty? For Nel?
They pulled up at Polly’s place. “Thanks.” When he started taking off his seat belt, she shook her head. “You don’t have to get out.”
“I’m walking you up, Mags.”
“You don’t—”
He was already out.
Goddammit, he was stubborn.
When they reached the door to her apartment, she didn’t step straight in, instead turning to look up at Ethan. “Thank you for coming and keeping me company tonight. It was really thoughtful.”
His eyes were dark and intense, boring into her. “It was good for me too.”
And suddenly, she was lost. Lost in his moss-green eyes. In the deep vibration of his voice. Even his deep sandalwood scent.
“I can’t be friends with you.” The words burst out of her—and she simultaneously wanted to pull them back and let them sit in the air between them.
He nodded. “I was never on board for the friends thing anyway.”
He stepped closer, and she couldn’t breathe. Air literally didn’t make it into her chest.
“Maggie—”
“We can’t do this to Nel.”
His brows tugged together. “What?”
“I want to kiss you. And maybe, well, I don’t know… I think you want to kiss me too?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter. You’re dating another woman and—”
“I’m not dating Nel.”
Air froze in her lungs. “But…Polly heard Maureen and Ferris talking about it in Bloom. They saw you on a date with her.”
“We went on exactly two dates. Then I heard Polly talking to you on the phone at Bloom, and I knew I couldn’t go on a third.”
Her lips formed an O, but no words came out. There wasn’t even a sound.
He cupped her cheek. “This last month, you have been all I can think about.”
Her brain short-circuited. Every rational thought and idea slipped from her head like sand through fingers. He was all that was left.
“And I do,” he whispered, “want to kiss you.”
He…wanted to…kiss her. She had to slow those words down in her head so they could sink in.
But before they had fully processed, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. And she fell into everything that was Ethan. She fell into the safety of his strong arms. The softness of his lips. And the familiarity of everything that was them eleven years ago.
Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside, letting her feel him. How he tasted exactly as she remembered, she had no idea, but he did.
A moan fell from her lips and her fingers twisted in his shirt as if trying to anchor them into the single breath of moment.
When he finally stepped away, every fiber of her being wanted to pull him back. The need spilled into every crevice of her body, making up her entire identity.
He touched his forehead to hers. “Jesus, it’s like you never left.”
She felt it too. The impossible connection that had made up her entire world eleven years ago.
“Thank you.” She scrunched her eyes closed, not sure what she was thanking him for—the kiss? Tonight? Everything?
One more kiss to her lips before he stepped back, his hands going into his pockets, muscles in his arms flexing.
So he wouldn’t touch her again?
“I should get out of here before I do something else. Don’t forget to lock up.”
She stepped inside her apartment and clicked the lock, but that was as far as she got for a few moments.
He wasn’t dating Nel. He didn’t hate her for breaking things off with him and cutting him out. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Was it possible they could actually make things work this time?
She squeezed her eyes shut, hope blooming in her chest.
When she finally turned, it took her a few moments to focus on the apartment. When she did, she noticed the wooden picture frame. It was face down.
Her heart stuttered.
It was the only photo in her apartment. It had also been the only photo in her house in LA. And every time she’d returned home after a trip, it had been facing down.
Every. Single. Time.
Carefully, she lifted the photo of her and her mother. Then she scanned the apartment, a coldness slipping over her skin.
Was it happening again?
No. She’d told her online followers that she’d come home, but she’d never stated where “home” was.
Unless they already knew?