Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
OLLIE
Irecheck my clothes for the hundredth time in the mirror, tugging on my gray sweater, rubbing my hands on the dark jeans I have on.
And shake my head at my absolute ridiculousness.
Why am I even acting like this? Just because Ethan, the kindest and most gorgeous man I’ve ever met and the alpha who took care of me and fucked me six ways to Sunday is going to be at my door any minute now in all his gentle, swoony glory?
Yeah. Complete overreaction.
I tap my phone screen to check the time and I melt for yet another time with the picture of the cute, baby deer he sent me.
Which I absolutely did not save as my lock-screen because it reminds me of all the times he has called me ‘little fawn,’ and so that I can look at it every time I peek at the time and remember our text conversations.
God, I’m hopeless. I know I am, but is it so bad that I wanted to hold on to all the messages we exchanged these past few days? The good morning and goodnight texts, the checking-in during the day messages, the teasing, the flirting?
And is it so bad that I secretly loved every single one of them?
My teeth sink into my bottom lip to stop myself from grinning like a smitten idiot.
Like I’ve done every day since we started talking again after his accident, and I don’t want to stop.
I don’t want to stop feeling like this, like I have a heart full of helium that carries me up and up and up and lets me be light and happy.
Can’t I just be selfish for once in my life and keep for myself the only thing that has made me look forward to waking up, that makes me want to see if there’s something more out there than mere surviving?
The doorbell rings faintly, snapping me out of my thoughts, and my heart starts beating so fast I’m worried I’ll never get to actually open the damn door.
I pause for just a moment to try and get my breathing under control, which I fail to do, and as I swing open the door—
Snow, pine, warmth.
Ethan.
My eyes fall on his collarbone, forgetting for a second how tall he is, before my gaze lifts helplessly towards his.
And it’s like I’m back in his cabin, falling into his soft, brown eyes, a willing captive in the tenderness and heat that always burned in those depths.
Exactly like he’s looking at me right now, gaze roaming all over my face, drinking me in, taking away whatever breath I have left.
“Hey,” I whisper, the smile pulling at my lips impossible to smother.
“Hey,” he says in that deep voice that makes me tremble, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
It only takes us a few seconds—a few wonderful, endless seconds—of staring at each other before we’re chuckling at our awkwardness.
“Please tell me my face isn’t flaming red right now,” I say, touching my cheeks with the back of my hands, which sure enough feel hotter than the sun.
“I could,” he grins, “but I would be lying.”
A groan slips out of me. “I hate it when this happens.”
His eyes bore into mine as he takes a step closer, covering the small distance between us, and all I can do is let my hands drop as his crisp scent surrounds me.
He never looks away as he lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against my warm skin, the touch so soft and tentative, I lean towards it without even realizing I’m doing it.
“I don’t,” he says roughly. “I love it when you blush. Remember?”
And God, don’t I.
I swallow thickly as I nod, lost in the heated memory, before another groan leaves me when I register where we are.
“Jesus, are we still outside? I’m so sorry, Ethan, I’m a terrible host. Do you want to come in?”
He laughs, removing his touch, and I feel the absence of it immediately.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could take you somewhere.”
His expression is so expectant, with just a hint of nervousness peeking out that I can’t help nodding fast, something fluttering in my stomach.
“Okay.”
His smile makes him glow. “Alright. Grab anything you need to stay warm and let’s go.”
***
Ten minutes later, we’re already in Ethan’s truck, making our way out of my neighborhood.
I can’t help but remember the last time I was in here, how different the situation was—Ethan dropping me off, trying to wrap my head around the fact that everything was over, that I wouldn’t be seeing him again.
And now here I am again, basking in his pine scent, sneaking glances at him behind the wheel, excitement I’ve never felt before rushing through me.
“Are you staring at me?” he asks gruffly, never taking his eyes off the road.
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“I like looking at you,” I answer with an easiness that surprises me, and him, judging by the brief look he aims at me. “Should I stop?”
“No, Ollie,” he rasps and, even though the sky is already getting darker, I swear I can see his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Don’t stop.”
I bury half my face in my scarf because I have no idea what my face is showing right now.
“So where are you taking me?”
“Do you want me to tell you or do you want it to be a surprise?”
“Oh, that’s a tough one,” I mumble and he chuckles.
“How is that a tough one?”
“Well, I really want you to tell me, but at the same time I also really want it to be a surprise.”
“Okay, how about I give you just a small hint? We’re about 20 minutes away.”
“That helps me as much as you not telling me anything, so surprise it is.”
He laughs and I love the sound so much, I wish I could hear it all the time.
“Hey, Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re okay and nothing happened to you,” I say in a small voice that can barely be heard above the truck’s engine. But he hears it all the same.
And my heart jumps in my throat when his hand reaches towards me and he laces our fingers together, giving them a soft squeeze that I feel everywhere.
“I’m glad too, Ollie,” he mutters gently, glancing my way for the briefest of moments, though his look stays with me long after. “You’ve no idea how much.”
He releases my hand with one last squeeze and I turn to watch the scenery outside my window, watching the buildings grow sparser and the trees thicker.
“Are we… leaving the city?”
“Not quite,” he says cryptically, making me rethink my request for secrecy.
“But then why—” I start, but my words trail off as the truck makes a turn into a side road with signs everywhere.
And fairy lights on each and every one of them.
I watch raptly as the road opens up into a wide area, and I’m not sure I’m even blinking as Ethan slows the truck down and dozens of images pass before my eyes; makeshift booths with colorful items I’m too far away to see, fires burning in lanterns shedding their light on stalls upon stalls packed with food and drinks, people walking around, browsing, eating, laughing.
And Christmas lights as far as the eye can see.
The truck slows to a stop next to a few other parked cars and my eyes meet Ethan’s in the semi-darkness.
“You brought me to a Christmas market?”
He nods and the emotion clogging my throat makes it difficult to swallow.
“Was it a good idea?”
He’s still nervous and that faint hesitancy is what prompts me to lean forward, over the middle. His eyes widen and burn into me but he doesn’t move. He just lets me come to him, lets me brush my lips on the same spot I did all those weeks ago when I thought I wasn’t going to see him again.
Only this time it’s different because my heart is not breaking for leaving him behind, but bursting with the kind of joy that feels terrifying.
He sucks in a breath when I make contact with his scruffy cheek, his eyes glowing when I pull back just enough to look at him.
“Yeah, Ethan,” I breathe, smiling in the playful way I know he likes. “It was a very good idea.”
A rough chuckle huffs out of him and his forehead touches mine in a move that makes me ache.
“Good. I hope it’s worth the heart attack I’ll probably have before I have even exited the truck.”
“Nah, you’re not allowed to have a heart attack. Now, will you show me around again, Mr. Forest Ranger?” I grin, pulling back.
“It would be my pleasure.”
***
The market is amazing, better than anything I could have ever imagined.
It’s so hard to focus on one thing at a time because everything just begs to be stared at.
Ethan first takes us by a stall serving the thickest hot chocolate I’ve ever seen, and as he waits for our cups to be ready, I have all the time in the world to shamelessly look my fill of him; dark blue jeans encasing thick, strong thighs, heavy, brown jacket thrown over what looks to be a flannel shirt peeking through, shaggy, chestnut hair and rough stubble—
And piercing, dark eyes dancing with amusement.
“That’s the second time I’ve caught you staring, sweetheart,” he whispers hoarsely when he’s close enough to hand me my cup.
“Sorry,” I mutter innocently.
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. I’m not,” I grin over the lip of my cup, before I take the first sip. A sound that’s not fit for the public slips out unchecked at the divine taste, my eyes fluttering shut.
The firm pressure I suddenly feel on my nape brings me back to my surroundings and to Ethan’s tense expression.
“Don’t make that sound, Ollie.” His eyes are wild, his words almost tinged with desperation.
I lick my lips, suddenly drier than the desert. “Why not?”
“Because all I can think about is the last time you made it while I was inside you,” he grates out.
My body floods with heat at his words, my cheeks growing warm.
“I’ll be good,” I whisper back with a small grin. “I promise.”
Ethan groans as his hand falls away from my nape and finds the small of my back, steering me towards the next stall.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
He never stops touching my lower back and I move closer to him, until I can almost feel the heat radiating from him.
We find a stall a few steps ahead that has all sorts of traditional Christmas cookies, iced with colorful frosting, and after we settle on gingerbread and chocolate-peppermint, we sit for a while on a narrow wooden bench that has the entire length of my side touching his.
Ethan dips his cookie in the hot chocolate but doesn’t bring it to his mouth, presenting it to me instead.
I lean in and take it from him, my lips lightly grazing his fingers. His face glows with pure satisfaction, just like all those times he fed me the food he made for me in the cabin.
“I remember everything, you know,” I say, the need to tell him overriding everything else.
“From those days at the cabin. I’d heard that during a heat it’s possible not to know what you’re doing, what you’re saying, to even lose yourself completely in it, and I was terrified it would happen to me as well.
” I can feel my voice slightly shaking as I let my gaze fall to my hands on my lap.
“That I would have no control over anything. But I remember everything, Ethan,” I say, lifting my eyes to find him already looking at me intently.
Unwaveringly. “I remember every moment you took care of me, every time you washed me because I was too tired, every instance when you lulled me to sleep because I was too keyed up to rest. You kept me sane.”
His expression is so raw and open, it’s the only reason I gather the courage to ask him the one thing I’ve been burning to ask.
“It wasn’t just because of the heat, was it?” I whisper, but the question has barely left my lips before his warm palms are cupping my face with a touch so gentle, it makes my heart hammer in my chest.
“No, Ollie. It wasn’t just because of the heat.” His brown eyes are sparkling in the golden light of the lanterns around us. “And I know it because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you shut the door of my truck and disappeared from my sight.”
The tentative hope that explodes in my chest at his confession is dizzying, euphoric. Perhaps what happiness is supposed to feel like.
“Really?” I smile and his thumbs trace the corners of it.
“Yes, sweetheart. Really,” he says with a smile that matches my own.
“Okay. So,” I grin, “where are you taking me next?”