28. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ETHAN
W hen I pull up to the dock, I glance at Kinzie, who has grown quiet over the last several minutes. “Come on. It’ll only take a few minutes.” It’s a lie. I know it as soon as the words fall from my mouth, but I don’t regret saying them. It’s time I finally tell her the truth.
I lead her onto the boat, unlock the front door, and flick on the living room light. After she takes a seat on the couch, I reach for the book I keep on my coffee table and sit next to her. It’s my Green Monster, the guidebook I was given during boot camp that essentially taught me everything I needed to know for training and life in the corps.
“You want to show me a military handbook?”
“Open it,” I say.
She slides her fingers over the cover before flipping it open. A photo of us falls into her lap, and as she picks it up, her eyes widen.
“I carried that thing around for years,” I whisper as she smooths out the creases. “It sat in the breast pocket of my cammies on every training exercise and every deployment I ever went on.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Kinzie asks, still pressing her fingers to the photo of us standing cheek to cheek on prom night. She’s wearing a pink satin dress, and I’m in a rented black tux a size too big with a pink bowtie.
“I never told you why I left. That wasn’t fair of me, but I need you to know that I never stopped thinking about you.”
“So tell me now.” A hint of anger builds in her voice as she remains focused on the photo.
I want her to look at me, but I settle for flipping to the next page in the book, showing her rather than telling her the story of how the death of my dad, the lack of financial stability, and Andy’s medical bills caused me to both reevaluate my life and spiral into depression at the same time.
Wrapped around the tiny print of Chapter One, the Code of Conduct , and every chapter thereafter are the closest words to a journal I’ve ever written.
As she traces her finger over the big block letters of her name, I stand and head into the kitchen to pour each of us a glass of water, giving her a few moments to digest eighteen-year-old Ethan’s world as he tried convincing himself he was doing the right thing by letting seventeen-year-old Kinzie go.
I take a sip and make my way back to the couch. I have zero expectations when I set the glasses on the table. This could go any number of ways. My hope is that she’ll understand. But that’s asking a lot.
I settle in next to Kinzie and wait as she skims each page.
She releases a heavy sigh on more than one occasion, but she doesn’t stop to talk or ask me questions, not until she gets to the end.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were depressed.” Her words are soft, full of emotion. “You were sad, I could see that, but—”
“Please don’t say you’re sorry. This isn’t your fault.” I lift her chin. “It wasn’t your job to notice how bad my grief was. I hid it from everybody. Not just you. I blamed myself for his death. If I hadn’t argued with him about college. If I’d just listened to him. If I’d called 911 sooner. Maybe he’d still be alive. But the truth of the matter is, I didn’t cause his heart attack. That wasn’t my fault. But that realization came to me too late, and I lost you as a result.”
“Ethan,” Kinzie says solemnly. Her lips are paper tight.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing. When I sent you that letter, I was just trying to do right by you. I wanted you to have everything you deserved, which meant college, a career you loved, and a house full of kids with a man who was emotionally available. After the funeral, I knew that couldn’t be me.”
Kinzie lifts her head. Her eyes are glossy, wet with unshed tears.
I press my fingers into her thigh, squeezing her. “I’m so sorry.”
She shakes her head and sniffles. “I was pregnant.”
My heart stops, and I clutch her knee. “Pregnant?” I whisper, my mouth dry.
“Pregnant,” she repeats the word. “I found out about a month after you left.”
My focus instinctively drops to her stomach before I refocus on her dark blue eyes. How could she have been pregnant? We were safe. We always used protection. “Kinzie—”
“I had a miscarriage at three months. The only people who knew were Tessa, my mom, and Maggie. And, of course, my therapist.”
A crushing weight stabs at my chest, making it painful to breathe.
“I hated you for leaving and not telling me. Then I hated you even more for not being there for me when I needed you. So much happened in that first year. I lost so much.”
I blink at her, at a loss for words. A baby. Our baby. I had no idea, which is entirely my own fault. I cup her cheek and brush a thumb over her soft skin.
Closing her eyes, she leans into my touch. Finally, a single tear slides down the side of her nose.
Stomach twisting painfully, I brush away the tear and thread my fingers behind her head and into her hair. “I. Am. So sorry.”
Angling in close, I slowly press my lips to hers, relishing the warmth and softness. I half expect her to pull away. To tell me to go fuck myself, that kissing her at a time like this is selfish and uncalled for. I wait for her to get angry. To tell me that yesterday, and this entire week, was nothing more than a miscalculated attempt at teaching her sister a stupid lesson.
Instead, her lips part, and she snakes her hands up my chest and shoulders until they find my jaw, encouraging me to keep kissing her. And like her lips, they, too, are soft and warm and delicate. Everything about her in this moment is gentle.
Carefully, I break contact to lift her into my lap.
We stare at one another for a long moment, eyes locked, before I dip my forehead to hers. Twin sighs escape us. There’s so much to unravel right now.
I wish I could go back and do it all over again. If I’d known she was pregnant, I’d have done things differently. But the truth of the matter is, we can’t go back in time, and she doesn’t need me to make excuses.
Kinzie places her hands on either side of my face. “I’m sorry too. About your dad. I hate that you felt responsible for your entire family.”
Her fingertips trace the curve of my jawline up and across my cheeks until they reach the bridge of my nose. She slides her fingers down, this time with a little more force. When she reaches my mouth, the pressure from her thumb pulls my lower lip down a fraction.
That’s all it takes. That single touch sends a sudden surge of electricity straight through my chest, relieving the pain overwhelming me and replacing it with a shot of endorphins more potent than I’ve ever experienced.
I pull her back to me, wanting to chase the feeling, and then drop my mouth to hers again. The way her fingers tangle between our lips causes my body to light up. The kiss is sensual and intimate, but the act of kissing alone isn’t what causes the explosion of heat to fill me.
It’s Kinzie. It always has been. When she presses her hands to my chest, I drop my mouth to her neck and pepper her with more kisses. “Stay the night with me,” I say into her ear.
She pulls back and straightens, searching my face, but she doesn’t say no.
Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, I press on, underlining my intentions. “I want to make love to you. I want to fall asleep next to you. Then, more than anything, I want to wake up with you in my arms.”
The blue of her irises darkens, but she remains quiet, biting at her bottom lip. Finally, she nods.
As relief sweeps over me, I press another soft kiss to her mouth. Then I scoop her up and carry her the few feet it takes to get to my room. Gently, I set her on my bed and climb over her with one leg planted between hers.
Hovering like that, I study her. Her eyes, her mouth, and then her chest, right where her shirt bunches at her breasts. She’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. And right now, she’s mine.
I run a hand along her cheek and capture her lips with my own. Then I kiss my way down her body, taking my time to remove her clothes with deliberate care and ease. When our shirts are off, I trace tiny circles across her naked breasts and alternate between licking and nipping at her hard nipples.
The gasp that escapes her when I nip makes my erection pulse inside my jeans, straining against the fabric of my boxer briefs.
Moaning, Kinzie unzips my pants and then reaches inside to release me.
The pleasure that overtakes me is almost too intense to endure. Her fucking hand on my length is everything, and if she keeps stroking me like that, I won’t last long. But fuck, do I want tonight to last. I need tonight to last.
Pulling away from her hand, I get to my feet and toss my jeans to the floor. I free Kinzie from her jeans too and admire the way her pink lace panties match the peaks of her nipples.
“Fuck,” I growl. It won’t matter whether she’s touching me. I’m gonna have to put up some considerable effort to hold back.
When I climb back onto the bed, I finger the lacy waistband of her panties, running my fingertips around her waist and over the curve of her ass. It’s soft and sexy, just like she is.
“I want them off. I want you completely naked.”
Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, she lifts her hips. “Then take them off.”
Without hesitating, I slide the thin piece of fabric down her legs. Then I make my way back to her mouth. I kiss her reverently, filling her mouth with my tongue.
This time when she grasps my erection, I hold her hand to it, moving her with me as we pump together at her warm center. She bucks against me, grinding against our hands.
Her moans grow louder and longer with each pump and thrust. Finally, when I know she’s close, I press down against her hip, molding one hand to her body as my other hand guides my length into her folds.
“Ethan,” Kinzie cries out, her eyes fluttering shut.
My heart lodges itself in my throat. Shit. Am I hurting her? I pause, but when she rubs herself against me again and says, “Oh my God,” I smile and thrust in as far as I can go.
She feels so goddamn good. I hold myself there for a second to gather my bearings. To bask in the warmth of her body. To enjoy this moment.
Kinzie, however, has other ideas. She wiggles beneath me as she tightens and contracts around me, pressing her hips forward with urgency. She grips her breasts and squeezes, and at this sight, I buck.
“Holy fuck.” Teeth gritted, I pump into her. Faster. Deeper. Harder.
I drag my hand across one of her nipples the way she’s doing to herself, her fingers tangling with mine. I pull and twist.
Without my permission, my body begins to pulse with an intensity I’m not ready for. “Fuck,” I say again.
At my next thrust, Kinzie buckles beneath me, digging her nails into my biceps, and then I’m ejaculating inside her.