Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ETHAN
I don’t look back when I leave Olivia’s porch. If I do, I won’t keep walking. I’ll turn around and wreck both our lives. My lips still taste like her, but there’s a sadness to it that I didn’t want. I can’t remember her like this. Not again.
I make it home just as the town starts to wake. I drop my keys, pour coffee I don’t even want, and stare out the window like the glass is going to hand me a solution. Instead, my phone buzzes. Hannah. Of course.
I hesitate but answer anyway. “Hey,” I say, already tired.
“Did you see Olivia last night?” Oh, we’re going right to it.
No hello, no warm-up, straight to fight mode.
Today is one of those days that I don’t have the energy to do this.
I blink at my coffee like it might give me an out.
“Oh, hi. Good morning, Hannah. Did you sleep well?”
She exhales sharply. “Yes or no, Ethan.” I rub a hand over my face. “No, Hannah, I didn’t see Olivia last night. I was home last night. I was home long before you called.”
“I’m going to ask you again, should I be worried about her?
” I set the mug down hard. “Worried? No. We are just friends, we have a business opportunity with Josh and Audrey, I already told you all about this,” She laughs, but it’s clear that this isn’t funny.
“Oh, so you are friends now?” I grit my teeth. “We’re trying to be.” Silence.
“Do you still love her?” The words hit like a punch, even though I saw them coming. “You know the answer to that, Hannah. I told you a long time ago what I felt for her. I have never lied about that.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Ethan. You still love her.
This isn’t in the past anymore, is it?” I don't answer right away. “That’s not what this is,” I lie.
Fuck. What else could I possibly say right now?
“No?” she says. “Because it feels like you’re somewhere else every time we talk, and I’m not talking geographically. ”
“I’m doing my best, Hannah. I’m here because my mother died for fucks sake.
I’m not here for fun; I didn’t come here to see her or be with her.
I came here to bury my mother, be with my dad and my siblings,” I say, without even thinking, but it’s the truth, and I’m sick and tired of this conversation.
“So please just drop it,” I say, softer this time.
She breathes in, sharp and shallow. “I know what you went there for, I’m not stupid. So okay, I’ll drop it for now.” We hang up. No ‘I love you’, no nothing. I stand there, phone still in my hand, wondering how long I can keep pretending I haven’t already split in two.
Wondering if this is what it means to love two people, if it makes you rot from the inside out. None of them deserve this, and I sure as hell don’t deserve any of them.
I finally shower, throw on clean jeans, and a button-down—a little cologne.
We’re meeting at the hotel site. Olivia, Josh, Audrey, and I, having one big professional power hour where we all pretend something. We three are pretending to be the best siblings in the world, and we two are pretending we don’t love each other.
The site’s buzzing when I pull in. Josh waves me over, clipboard in hand. Audrey’s already walking the perimeter with the foreman. “Glad you made it,” Josh says. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“We were talking about patio flow,” Audrey adds. “Got time to weigh in?” I nod. And then another car pulls up.
Olivia steps out like she owns the place. She’s wearing a cream blouse, a skirt that fits a little too well, and sunglasses in her hair. Polished and sharp. Absolutely untouchable. She hugs Josh and Audrey. Then her eyes flick to me, just for a second.
“Hey,” she says. “Hey,” I murmur. This reminds me of the conversation at the airport and how stupid it sounded then.
And how silly it sounds now. We walk the site and talk logistics, finishes, and lighting.
She drops into brand strategy like it’s second nature.
She is magnetic as hell, and I can’t stop watching her.
“I’ll be heading back Monday, but I can be on top of this during the week,” she says casually, like she didn’t just punch me in the chest. “Monday?” I repeat. She doesn’t answer me. Something tightens in my chest. So I nod, slowly.
Josh keeps it moving. “We need to have a follow-up in two weeks. There’s a vendor walk-through. And I would like all of us to be here. Can we make that happen?”
“Sounds good, I’ll be here,” I say.
“I’ll have the proposal ready by then,” Olivia adds. We head back toward the cars. Josh and Audrey peel off toward their rental. I fall into step beside her.
“Need a ride?” She hesitates on the porch, keys clutched tight in her hand like she’s weighing every possible version of no. Then she shrugs. “Sure.”
We slide into my truck. Doors shut. The sound is louder than it should be. For a second, I sit there, watching our breath fog up the glass.
“Monday, huh?” I finally say, to fill the air. “Yep,” she answers, eyes fixed straight ahead. “I feel like it’s time.” Right. Time to go. Time to end whatever this was.
“And what happens with the project?” I ask, even though I already know.
She exhales, the kind of long, tired breath that sounds like surrender.
“I’ll be in and out. I need to focus on work.
But, I know that I can be an asset, so I’ll help out.
” Her tone could freeze water. She’s colder than the air outside, and it’s twenty-nine degrees, so that’s saying a lot.
“We should… take a break. From talking, I mean. Once we’re back home.” I grip the steering wheel tighter, but I can’t look at her. Not right now.
“You need space?”
“I think we both do,” she says. “Clear our heads. Focus on our families.”
“Right.” I nod, staring at the windshield, the wipers squeaking against leftover mist. “Should we pinky swear on it? Or maybe we should have sex. Seal the deal properly.” That earns me a smirk. She turns her head, just enough to meet my eyes. I blink. “Wait—what?”
She laughs. It’s soft and unexpected. It’s the first sound that’s felt real all morning.
“Relax. I’m kidding. Let’s shake on it. You looked all serious and sad there that I had to make a joke.
” Yeah, right, a joke. She holds out her hand.
Perfect posture, businesslike, detached as hell.
I stare at it for a second too long before I take it. Her palm is warm, small, steady.
We shake, just like she wants. But what I want is to grab her, lift that pretty little skirt she has on, pull her panties to the side, and have her right here, right now. But I don’t. Because she’s right, we both need space. We both need to go home.