Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ETHAN
This waiting room is too damn small. Small and hot... like being trapped in a subway station elevator.
I snatch the fashion magazine off the side table and wave it in front of my face to stir up some air, ignoring the billion viruses I’m probably blasting all over me.
Really not my biggest problem right now.
What’s taking so long? Chloe said it would be a “fast appointment.” Why hasn’t she come out yet? What if she’s being told right now that her skin cancer has come back?
I lean forward to stare at the closed door she went through and the chair creaks under me. My elbows dig into my thighs, my hands locked together so tight that my knuckles ache.
It’s been twenty minutes.
If the spot on Chloe’s arm was nothing, she’d already be out. Right?
Shit.
I get up and start pacing the room.
The receptionist glances at me, parading back and forth in front of her, as she click-click-clicks her fingers against the keyboard, the sparkles on her two-inch long pink nails winking at me from here.
I flop back onto the plastic chair, dragging a hand down my face as I close my eyes.
And all of a sudden, I’m not here at all.
I’m in my truck.
The June sun was beating down through the windshield, the muted horns of cars and buses choking down the streets outside.
Five minutes of rest… that was all I wanted.
I’d been working fourteen-hour days for weeks, with so many delays and screw-ups on the apartment building job. Every corner that my boss could cut, he had. My brain felt like the wet cement that I’d yelled at one of the cubs about the day before, after he’d walked across it too soon.
The pounding on the window jerked me awake.
Georgia, one of our site workers, looked like she’d seen a fucking ghost.
As soon as I opened the door, she stammered, “Y-you gotta come. Now.”
I remember my boots hitting the gravel too hard and the air feeling too thick in my lungs. The way the crew was clustered around the base of the scaffolding, shouting words I couldn’t make sense of. All except for one. A name.
Leo.
He was lying within a tangle of ropes that should’ve been replaced weeks earlier.
Safety inspections were my responsibility as foreman, but I’d been juggling a thousand other things while Michael squeezed every last dollar out of the budget.
So I’d delegated it, stupidly assuming that one of the clock-watching idiots could handle it without me double-checking.
Leo had fallen three stories.
I don’t remember much after that. Just the metallic taste in my mouth and the sick, helpless knowledge that I couldn’t do a single thing to change what had happened.
I should’ve fucking been there. I was the foreman.
But I’d been stretched so thin… worked into the ground.
I should’ve been there anyway.
I force my eyes to open, and the room snaps back into focus.
The door Chloe went through is still shut. My hands ball into fists. I want to do something to help her, but I can’t. It makes my skin crawl.
It’s just a mole check, Ethan. It’s fine.
She’s young and healthy and resilient.
Everything will be fine.
That’s what I said before, though, isn’t it? One of the many lies I told myself along with: miracles can happen.
It’s all bullshit.
If something can go wrong, it will.
Now Chloe is in that room, worried and alone, and I’m out here and—
The doctor’s door swings open, and I’m on my feet before I even realize it.
Chloe steps through and paces toward me, a smile tugging at her lips, not forced or fake.
This one’s real.
She’s so bright, so painfully beautiful, she almost knocks me to my knees.
“It’s okay,” she says.
All the air in my lungs rushes out. “Yeah?”
She nods, her eyes shining. “Dr. Rhea wasn’t concerned about the mole. He said it looked benign. He removed it anyway and is sending it away to be extra sure, but if he’s not worried, then neither am I.”
A neon-yellow bandaid covers the spot. A reminder that things could’ve gone very differently.
Then what would I have done?
Chloe continues smiling, oblivious to the panic still flooding my system. “I have to wait a week before surfing again, but that’s a small price to pay.”
I manage a smile of my own, letting her coconut scent fill my lungs, replacing the tension coiling in my body with relief. “That’s really great.”
She smooths the crease lodged between my brows with her thumb, then goes off to chat with the receptionist while I wait for the strength to return to my legs.
I’m still shaky when I squeeze myself back into her car out front. Thank God my truck’s finally fixed; the legend who runs the auto body shop is going to drop it back this afternoon.
Chloe clicks on her seatbelt. The grin hasn’t left her face. “This calls for ice cream.”
I glance at the clock on the dash. “Ice cream? At ten in the morning?”
“Time is irrelevant when you receive wonderful news. Plus, you know ice cream’s better in the morning, right?” She reaches across the console to squeeze my thigh.
She hums all the way to the ice cream shop, her window rolled down, her golden hair flying in the wind. It takes physical effort not to stare at her.
Right now, all I want to do is freeze this moment. Not just the relief about her health, but the part where it’s just us, cruising down a sandy beachfront road, going for ice cream at an absurd time of day.
“So, you gonna call your parents?” I ask as we look for a parking spot near the corner store selling beach chairs and umbrellas. “Tell them the good news?”
Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel for half a second. Then she shrugs. “Nah. There’s no point.”
Wow, okay. I tell my parents everything. My mom still sends me weather alerts, like I don’t have three apps tracking storms. I can’t imagine not wanting them in the loop about something as important as this.
Is Chloe afraid that they’ll worry?
Or that they won’t care enough?
Having had the displeasure of meeting Rick, I have a sinking feeling it’s the latter.
“I should call the girls, though,” she says while backing into a tight spot, her bracelets clinking against the headrest as she grabs the back of my seat. “They wanted to come with me today, but I figured you deserved the anxiety.”
“That’s not funny.”
She laughs. “You were very brave in the waiting room.”
“I paced. And sweated.”
Her smile widens, but my thoughts land with a thud.
Chloe technically didn’t ask me to come with her today, but I ended up there, and she seems pretty happy about it.
Soon, though, I won’t be able to drop everything and go with her to scary appointments.
I’ll be back in the city, back at work. No more matchbox car.
No more spontaneous ice cream. No more of her hand finding mine without looking.
Stop thinking about this.
You heard Chloe say it—you’re just casual. There’s no point wondering what could be when you can’t change what is.
The ice cream shop bell jingles when we walk in, the air conditioning hitting my face like a welcome slap. Two servers stand behind the counter wearing upside-down ice cream hats.
Chloe greets both of them by name and orders a butterscotch cone. “And a rocky road for my friend over here,” she adds, fishing through her purse.
I pull out my wallet and smack my card on the counter before she can pay. “How’d you know I like rocky road?”
“Because you like to pretend you’re a big tough-guy who drinks concrete for breakfast, but you buy marshmallow cereal with a cute little elf on the front.”
“It’s not an elf. It’s a leprechaun.”
“Oh, you know that, huh?” Her brows are high, her voice teasing.
I shoot her a scowl, even though what I really want to do is kiss the smug look off her gorgeous face.
One of the teenage servers meanders past, accidentally knocking over a huge stack of square napkins that’d been leaning against the soda machine. Chloe immediately hands me her purse.
“I’ve got it, Toby,” she says, crouching to gather them all up.
My eyes flick to the teen, who stands there, dead-still, like the one-eyed sculpture outside Grandma’s Crabs.
“Chloe,” I say, but she’s already nearly done. She comes back up, balancing the stacked napkins between her palms.
“Where do they go?” she asks the kid. He points at the soda machine.
I shake my head at him, and he blinks fast, looking startled.
When Chloe comes back, I gently catch her wrist. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Everything.” For everyone. All the time.
Her brows knit. “He’s fifteen.”
“I don’t care if he’s five. It’s his job to pick up those napkins.”
She snorts. “Please. It took two seconds.” She reaches out to collect her ice cream from the other dozy server.
“You don’t have to please everyone everywhere you go,” I say. “You’re allowed to just... exist.”
“I know, you big grump.” She licks the melting top of her cone. Somehow, though, I think she heard me.
Ice creams in hand, we stroll down the sun-warmed boardwalk toward the beach, chatting about everything and nothing while flocks of seagulls swoop over the pier, squealing kids zip by on bikes, and parents wrestle with giant umbrellas and coolers.
All of it is so idyllic, it almost stops me in my tracks.
In summer, this place is about as busy as downtown Philly, just without the stress of the daily grind.
After we’ve finished (rocky road before lunch is my new go-to), we hang out for as long as we can, our threaded fingers stroking lightly together. Time seems to slow, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.
Eventually, Chloe grumbles that she has to get back to work.
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Isn’t that my line?”
Her laughter warms me more than the sun.
What am I going to do when it’s gone?
Early the next morning, I crouch down to give Kat’s furry chin a scratch. She trails me into the kitchen where I open the fridge, deciding what to make for breakfast.
I went to grab some groceries right after I got my truck back, but I didn’t buy too much, not wanting anything left when I leave Inner Shores.
The thought of being back on a dirty, noisy building site makes a deep trench form in my stomach. I used to love nothing more than seeing a city skyscraper rise under my hands and watching the Philadelphia skyline change floor by floor.
Now, the only view I want to admire is the one from Mom and Dad’s back deck.
Chloe’s right—why would anyone want to be anywhere else when you could have this every day? Every morning, you wake up to a postcard.
As I gaze out at the aqua-blue waves tossing themselves against the shore, a thought creeps in.
What would happen if I stayed in town a bit longer? Just enough time to help Mom and Dad get fully settled, make sure everything is in place, and give them a hand while they adjust to life out here. I’m sure they’d love it; they always jump at the chance to have me around.
I’ve still got just under a couple of weeks before I’m due back at work, but staying here for as long as I'm thinking would mean convincing my boss to extend my leave by another two.
If he did, that could mean another whole month with Chloe.
I tread the floor of the living room, weighing the pleasure of staying against the obligations waiting for me in Philly.
The buzz of my phone cuts through my thoughts. I drag it out of my back pocket, expecting to see a text from Mom or Dad. But it’s not them.
It’s my boss.
Maybe this is fate.
I press the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Ethan, it’s Michael.” Before I can respond, he barrels on, his words coming out clipped and urgent. “I know you’re off, but I’ve got a fucking monster of a problem with the Riverwalk North site.”
My gut plummets, my mind shooting straight to the accident with Leo. “What problem?”
“That prick I got in to run the site just walked off the job. Where the hell are you?”
I’m relieved no one is hurt, but how is any of this my problem? An icy stab of dread hits my stomach. “I’m in North Carolina.”
“Well, that plan just changed.”
“Excuse me?”
A huff slides out of him. “Come on; don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me hanging, like that fucking idiot who just left me high and dry. We’ve got a multi-million-dollar build sitting underway, and my budget’s tight. No one’s here calling the shots.”
“I’m on vacation,” I clip. He shouldn’t even be calling me. I don’t phone him when he’s living his best life at some fancy resort down in Mexico every other month.
“I’ll make it up to you later. As soon as this job is over, you can head back to South Carolina.”
“North Carolina,” I correct, a breath cutting through my lips as I tip my gaze to the ceiling.
I can’t believe this. I had to fight for this vacation, and I’d more than earned the time off. Now this asshole is trying to take that away from me.
Plus, Riverwalk North is a forty-story building with a giant parking lot underneath. It’ll take years to finish. “Why’d the foreman walk out?” I ask, suspicious.
“Hell if I know. Some people don’t have the backbone for this job,” he gripes flatly. “Or maybe he realized he was in over his head. Either way, he’s gone. And he’s not coming back.”
God knows what pushed the guy to throw in the towel.
And right now, that’s what worries me. What corners has Michael been trying to cut that set the other foreman off? What could go wrong if someone who knows what they’re doing isn’t watching over things?
I lean a hand on the counter, shifting my ankle away from Kat’s playful paws. “You’ve got other supervisors.”
“None I trust to run a build like this,” he argues. “That site is under a microscope. Investors are already breathing down my neck. Safety inspectors are popping in every other day. If something else goes sideways out there, it makes me look bad to the higher-ups. You get me?”
I scrape a hand through my unruly hair. “I get you.”
“So I need you back, all right? As soon as you can get here.”
I grit my teeth. “I can’t just drop everything.” Mom and Dad’s place is basically done, but there’s clean-up I haven’t finished. There’s Kat to sort out. And there’s…
Chloe.
Something sharp slices through my chest wall.
I had to leave sometime, didn’t I?
What’s the point in dragging out a goodbye?
“I can run things today and tomorrow, then it’s the weekend. Will that be enough time?” Michael presses, his voice tense. “Can I expect you on Monday?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. For fuck’s sake. It’ll take me a day to drive home, which means...
Two days.
That’s all I have left in Inner Shores.