Chapter 26 ETHAN
ETHAN
The drive from downtown is silent, the kind of silence that has weight and substance. I don't trust myself to speak. Every time I open my mouth, I'm afraid of what might come out.
Rage. Fear. Desire.
My hands grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. In my peripheral vision, I can see Jade shift in her seat, opening her mouth several times to speak before thinking better of it. Good. Because right now, I don't want to hear excuses or explanations.
All I can see is the moment my phone alert went off at 4:33 AM. The security system notification showing the garden gate opening. The camera footage of a hooded female figure slipping through the shadows.
My first thought wasn't professional. It wasn't about protocols or security breaches. It was jealousy, raw and primitive. Was she meeting someone? Was she involved with someone while I have spent weeks wanting her, needing her, while knowing she was forbidden?
I shake my head slightly, trying to dislodge the memory of how quickly I'd pulled on clothes, grabbed my keys, and followed her. How I'd tracked her Uber downtown, keeping enough distance that she wouldn't spot my car.
We enter the house in the same charged silence that filled the car. The moment the door closes behind us, she whirls to face me.
"Ethan, I can explain..."
"Can you?" The words come out like ice shards. "Can you explain why you deliberately put yourself at risk? Why you snuck out like a teenager after everything that's happened? Need I remind you that you agreed to no unnecessary and, may I add, no unauthorized outings?"
Her eyes flash. "The stalker's been caught. The danger is over."
"Is it?" I step closer. "Have you stopped being Jade Sinclair? You're still the same woman whose name and face are known around the globe. You still attract obsession. Attention. Danger. Do you really think you are safe out there on your own?"
"Nobody recognized me. I made sure of it. And... what were you doing there?"
"Are you freaking kidding me right now? That's your concern? Not outside danger, but me following you?" I pull out my phone, showing her the security app with its notifications. "The moment you stepped out of this house, I knew. Every exit is monitored. Every movement is tracked."
She blinks, surprise registering on her face before hardening into defiance. "So you've been spying on me? In my own home?"
"It's called doing my job," I snap. "The job you hired us for, remember? To keep you safe?"
"From a stalker who's now in custody!"
"And you know that's the only threat? That he was working alone?" My voice rises. "That there aren't copycats or fans or a thousand other potential dangers out there?"
She crosses her arms, shoulders squared like she's digging her heels into the earth. "I needed to go. Those people... I started a project a few months ago with them. They've been waiting for me to come back. They were counting on me."
"And what happens to them if something happens to you? If you get hurt, or worse?" The words rip out of me before I can stop them. Too loud. Too raw.
The question hangs between us. Her shoulders drop slightly, but her chin lifts in that stubborn gesture I've come to recognize... and God help me, it makes me hard.
She doesn't flinch. She just watches me. And her voice, when it comes, is steady. "It was important enough to take the risk," she says, her voice quieter. "Important for them, but also important for me. You saw the conditions..."
I exhale hard, pacing away from her because if I stay this close, I'll say something I can't take back.
I did see it. And I saw the way she interacted with them. And it had stopped me cold. The woman I'd followed wasn't the Jade Sinclair from magazine covers. It wasn't even the guarded, wary Jade I've been protecting.
This was someone else entirely. Someone who moved through that encampment with purpose and compassion. Who greeted people by name, listened to their stories, treated them with dignity that most of society denied them.
I'd watched, transfixed, as she knelt in the dirt to take an elderly man's portrait, speaking to him with such genuine interest that his weathered face had transformed. As she'd hugged a woman old enough to be her grandmother, laughing at something the woman said.
"I saw," I admit, my voice rough. "But that doesn't change the fact that you put yourself at risk. That you lied to us."
"I didn't lie."
"Omission is still a lie in my book." I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. "You could have told us. We could have arranged proper security."
"Would you have let me go?"
The question catches me off guard. Would I have? I want to say yes, but we both know it would have meant arguments, risk assessments, a security detail that would have changed the entire dynamic of what she was doing there.
"That's not the point," I evade.
"That's exactly the point." Her voice rises with passion. "Some things need more than money thrown at them from a safe distance. Some people need to be seen, really seen. When we don't do anything about the situation, it just becomes the landscape... unnoticed."
The puzzle pieces click into place. Why she insisted on going to Sin Jay's exhibition, against all our advice. The way she'd reacted to the different photos, knowing the names of those women. And now this insistence, this need to continue with a started project. How had I not seen it sooner?
"You're Sin Jay." The words come out before I can stop them.
She goes still.
The silence stretches.
Her eyes widen slightly before narrowing. "How long have you known?"
"I suspected at the gallery. Confirmed it just now." I step closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. "Why hide it? Your work is... extraordinary. It makes people stop and think."
A flush spreads across her cheeks. "That's why. If people knew Jade Sinclair took the photos, they would see the model first. My reputation would taint the subject. And I want to create something meaningful."
I take a step toward her. Her breath catches.
Something shifts in the air between us. The anger hasn't disappeared, but it's transformed into something else. Something charged with electricity.
"You can't do that again," I tell her, but my voice has lost its edge. "Not alone. Not without telling us."
"I'm not a child, Ethan." She steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my chin down to maintain eye contact. "I had a life before you three came into it. Projects that matter to me. People who count on me."
"And now you have people who..." I cut myself off, the words too dangerous to voice.
"Who what?" she challenges, eyes searching mine.
Who care about you. Who think about you constantly. Who are driving themselves crazy wanting you.
"Who are responsible for your safety," I finish lamely.
She shakes her head, disappointment flashing across her features. "Is that all this is to you? A job? A responsibility?" she asks, motioning her hand between us.
"It's all it can be." The words scrape my throat.
"Why?" Her voice falters.
I laugh bitterly. "Oh... let me count the ways!
I'm older than you, much older. I'm emotionally stunted.
I've seen and done things that would make you turn around and run.
And I've come into your life when you are vulnerable and needing protection.
I won't take advantage of that. And then, there's this dynamic where I know that my best friends, my brothers, also have feelings for you.
I'm not suited for you. Mateo... he can bring laughter and joy to your life. .." I stop, out of breath.
"Are you done?" she asks, eyes flashing. "I really appreciate your endorsement of my future relationship with Mateo. But newsflash: I don't need it!" She shouts.
"And for all the reasons you just so clearly stated, you forgot to mention one.
" She pauses, taking deep breaths as if to gather courage.
"You are scared. You, the fierce leader!
You are scared to give in to your feelings.
You are so determined to always be in control, to never let your guard down. To never just feel!"
"Scared? I'll tell you something—" I shout back at her, irritated that she has struck a nerve.
"Yes, scared!" She interrupts me. "You know how I know? I was scared too. But someone opened my eyes today. I don't want to live my life in fear anymore. I want..." She pauses.
"What do you want, Jade?" I ask, my voice barely audible.
"I want you," she whispers.
"It's not that simple." I struggle to remember all the reasons why this is a terrible idea.
Her eyes search mine, fearless in a way I've never managed to be when it comes to emotions.
"Isn't it?" She reaches up, hesitantly touching my face. Her fingers trace the stubble along my jaw. "I think sometimes we make things complicated because we're afraid of what we really want."
She looks deep into my eyes and says, "I'm not scared anymore. But I won't run after someone who can't overcome his hang-ups. You pulled away from me before."
The memory of that kiss burns through me. Her lips against mine, soft and desperate with relief. How I'd wanted to push her against the wall and take more. How I'd forced myself to step back instead.
"This time, if you really want me, come and find me. Not to protect me, not out of obligation, but because you really see me as I am and want me."
And with that, she turns and walks out of the room.
I don't move. Not at first.
I just stand there, trembling with restraint, watching her disappear down the hallway. Her silhouette etched against the dark.
My fists clench. My jaw locks.
And for the first time in years, I feel completely, achingly alive.
She told me to come and find her.
And I will.
But not as a protector.
As a man who's done running from what he wants.