Chapter 16 #2
Lily brightens instantly, hopping up. “Dad’s here!”
I, on the other hand, try to wipe under my eyes discreetly before he gets too close. Great. Perfect. Exactly who I want to see when I look like I’ve been emotionally sandblasted.
He climbs out of the truck holding a cardboard box. When he spots us on the patio, he pauses — eyes flicking over my face, catching more than I want him to.
“Hey,” he says carefully.
“Hey,” I echo, pretending my voice isn’t wrecked.
He lifts the box slightly. “Brought some extra battery lamps. Storm season’s not done messing with us.”
Cute cover. Seems the storm is beginning to be his latest cover of all covers.
Like, he didn’t just clock how miserable I look.
Lily barrels toward him. “Can I help carry them?”
“Sure.” He hands her two. “Careful — those are heavier than they look.”
She marches off with them like she’s hauling treasure.
When she’s out of earshot, Ethan walks closer, his voice dropping. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
Too fast.
He raises a brow. “Uh-huh.”
I force a smile. “It’s just… a day.”
He doesn’t push. He never does — which is somehow worse because it makes me want to tell him everything I’m not supposed to share with anyone.
“Lily said you were sad yesterday,” he adds gently.
My eyes snap wide. “She said what?”
He lifts his hands. “Relax. She just said you seemed ‘off.’ And that you needed someone around.”
Oh.
Right.
Lily.
She returns then, plopping the lamps inside and coming back out like she wants to glue herself to both of us.
“Can we sit outside later?” she asks Ethan, hopeful. “I made hot chocolate. Lucky can join us.”
Ethan glances at me. “Only if she’s up for company.”
His tone is careful. Respectful.
Like I might break.
And maybe… I might.
But for the first time today, the idea of not being alone doesn’t feel terrifying.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Company’s… good.”
Lily grins. Ethan’s shoulders relax. And somewhere deep in my chest, something unclenches.
He lingers after Lily disappears inside—probably to grab more marshmallows or find a reason to hover close by again.
For a moment, it’s just the two of us on the patio, sun dipping lower over the lake, the air warm enough to pretend the storm never happened.
He leans a shoulder against the railing beside me. Not touching—just close enough to feel the steady heat of him.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, quieter this time.
I let out a slow breath. “No. But I’m not… drowning.”
It’s the closest to honest I can manage.
He nods like he gets it—not the words, but the space between them. “If you ever want to talk… or yell… or throw something not breakable—”
A tiny, unwilling smile tugs at my mouth. “You offering your face?”
He huffs out a laugh. “I meant like a pillow. Or maybe Charlotte’s ceramic turtle, which she bought me. Not sure anyone would miss it.”
His humor is dry, understated, exactly the kind that slips under my guard before I can stop it.
My shoulders loosen a little.
It’s stupid how much I depend on this man’s calm.
How easily he steadies me without even trying.
“Thanks,” I say finally. “For the lamps. And for… I don’t know. Being here, I guess.”
His jaw tics in that quiet way, like he hates being appreciated but can’t bring himself to reject it. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m your neighbor.”
“Is that why?” I ask, watching him carefully.
His gaze flicks to mine. Holds. Doesn’t let go.
“No,” he admits. Voice low. Honest. “Not just that.”
Something warm and reckless coils in my stomach.
Before either of us can say another word, the sliding door opens, and Lily steps out—arms full of blankets, eyes bright.
“Can we sit? The sun’s perfect right now.”
Ethan steps back slightly, creating space for her.
I feel the loss stupidly, instantly.
“Yeah,” I say, taking one of the blankets. “Let’s sit.”
Lily’s already spreading hers over the chair, chattering about marshmallows and lightning facts she Googled earlier, so Ethan lingers at the edge of the patio—half in, half out, like he’s making sure I’m okay before he gives us space.
He clears his throat. “Hey—about tomorrow night.”
His hand slips into his pocket, that nervous gesture he probably thinks looks casual. “You don’t have to come to dinner in town with my parents if you don’t want to. They can be… a lot.”
I huff out a laugh. “Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy.”
His brows lift. “No?”
“No.” I shake my head firmly. “I’ll be there with bells and…”
I gesture vaguely, searching for something dramatic.
“…social competence.”
He snorts—actually snorts—and the sound warms every nerve ending in me.
“That’s debatable,” he murmurs.
“You dragged me into British family chaos. I’m invested now.”
Something loosens in his face. A tiny, grateful smile.
“Alright,” he says softly. “Tomorrow, then.”
He starts to turn, then hesitates—just a beat—eyes flicking to Lily beside me, then back to my face.
“You’re good with her,” he says. Quiet. Honest.
Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
My heart does a stupid little flip. “She’s easy to be good with.”
His throat moves in a small swallow.
For a second, something pulls tight between us again—soft, warm, terrifying.
Then he clears his throat and steps back. “I’ll… let you two hang out.”
He walks away, down the steps, hands in his pockets, shoulders a little tense like he’s thinking too much again.
And even with Lily chatting beside me, even with the golden glow of the lake and the calm after the storm—
I feel the space he leaves behind like an ache.
We spread the remaining blankets across the patio chairs, settling in. Lily sinks into the one beside mine and curls her legs up, tying her hair into a messy bun.
She looks older like this—almost teen-ish, not the little-girl version everyone keeps defaulting her to.
She nudges my elbow lightly. “Did you finish the song you were working on the other day? The one with the high note you kept missing?”
I blink. “You… remembered that?”
“Yeah. It was good.” She shrugs, pretending nonchalance, but there’s a proud little grin she can’t hide. “You should finish it.”
Warmth spreads through me—slow, unexpected, dangerous.
She’s not just a kid hanging around.
I’m starting to care about her.
And that terrifies me.
“You’re a good listener,” I tell her softly.
Her cheeks flush. “Well… you’re cool.”
Cool.
God.
I can’t remember the last time a compliment felt this pure.
My phone buzzes on the table.
I don’t want to look.
But I do.
A new text.
Unknown number.
U.S. area code I know all too well.
Hi Lucky. This is Jenna from Jett Langford’s office. We’ve been trying to reach you. It’s urgent. We need to discuss your return. Call me.
My stomach drops so fast I almost choke on air.
No.
No, no, no.
The screen blurs.
My hand shakes.
The lake, the sun, Ethan, Lily — the whole world narrows to a pinpoint.
I must make a sound because Lily’s head snaps toward me.
“Lucky?” she asks, voice sharp now. “What’s wrong?”
But I’m already gone—mentally spiraling, air thinning, that old cage snapping closed around my ribs.
Jett wants me back.
And whatever peace I’ve found here—however small, however fragile—
It’s suddenly at risk of disappearing.
Because in the last weeks, the life I’ve built here….I know it's just temporary.