Chapter 12 Ethan
Ethan
Idon’t let go.
Not right away.
My hand is still at the back of her neck, fingers curled there like I forgot how to move them. Like if I loosen my grip, she might step back—and something between us will disappear again.
Ava doesn’t pull away.
Her breath is uneven, brushing warm against my mouth. Her hands are still fisted in my shirt, knuckles tight, like she’s holding on—or bracing.
I should step back.
Should break this.
Instead, I stay there.
Forehead resting against hers.
Close enough to feel every shift in her breathing. Every small hesitation she doesn’t say out loud.
“Ethan…”
My name leaves her softer than I’ve ever heard it.
No edge.
No armor.
Just… her.
That’s what does it.
I step back.
Not far.
Just enough space to breathe again.
To think.
To remember.
Her eyes stay locked on mine.
Searching.
Like she’s trying to make sense of something that just hit too hard, too fast.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I say.
The words fall flat the second they’re out.
Not wrong.
Just… not enough.
Not even close.
Something flickers across her face.
There it is.
The wall.
Sliding back into place piece by piece.
“Then why did it?” she asks quietly.
I don’t answer.
Not right away.
Because the truth isn’t clean.
Because the truth is standing right in front of me, looking at me like I’m the one who’s supposed to explain this.
Because the truth—
“Because you’re here,” I say.
Her brows draw together.
“That’s it?”
No.
Not even close.
But it’s all I let her see.
“It’s enough.”
She studies me, eyes narrowing slightly.
She knows I’m holding back.
She always knew.
“That’s not what it felt like,” she says.
No accusation.
No anger.
Just honesty.
That’s worse.
I drag a hand through my hair, pacing half a step away before I stop myself from going further.
“This complicates things.”
Her lips press together.
“They were already complicated.”
Yeah.
They were.
But this—
This just lit everything back up.
Now it’s not just memory.
Not just unfinished.
Now it’s real again.
And that’s the problem.
I turn slightly, putting space between us before I forget how.
“We have a mission.”
It comes out sharper than I mean it to.
Controlled.
Safe.
The only thing I know how to hold onto right now.
Behind me, her voice steadies.
“I know.”
I glance back.
She’s already pulling herself together.
Shoulders squared.
Breathing even.
Emotion locked down tight.
Just like me.
Except—
I saw it.
Felt it.
She’s not as unaffected as she wants me to believe.
Good.
Because neither am I.
“That can’t happen again,” I say.
The words don’t sit right.
Like I don’t believe them.
Like I don’t want to.
Her eyes meet mine.
Hold.
For a second, I expect her to push back.
Call me out.
Do something.
Instead—
she nods.
“Right.”
It hits harder than it should.
Because she didn’t fight it.
Because part of me wanted her to.
Silence settles between us.
Different now.
Thicker.
Charged in a way that doesn’t fade—it just hangs there, waiting for one of us to break it again.
I move first.
Because if I don’t—
I will.
“We leave in ten.”
She nods again.
Doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
And that’s the problem.
Because even with space between us—
I can still feel her.
Still feel the imprint of her hands on my shirt.
Still remember the way she kissed me back—
like nothing changed.
Like eight years didn’t matter.
Like we didn’t lose everything in between.
I exhale slowly, forcing my focus somewhere else.
Mission.
Target.
Next move.
That’s what matters.
Not this.
Not her.
Not the way everything in me almost snapped the second she stepped into my space.
“You good?” I ask, not looking at her.
There’s a pause.
Then—
“Yeah.”
Not convincing.
Not even close.
I don’t call her on it.
Because mine wouldn’t be either.
Silence stretches again.
Then—
“You didn’t hesitate,” she says.
I glance back.
“What?”
“Back there,” she says. “You said you did. But you didn’t.”
I hold her gaze.
Because she’s right.
Because I didn’t.
“I never hesitate when it comes to you.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
Too fast.
Too honest.
Too late.
Her breath catches.
Small.
But I see it.
And feel it.
And just like that—
everything we tried to shove down—
is still there.
Still alive.
Still waiting.
I look away first.
Because if I don’t—
we’re right back where we started.
And next time?
I won’t stop.