CHAPTER FOURTEEN
April wiped down the espresso machine one final time, her mind elsewhere as she moved through the familiar routine.
The Brick House Beanery hummed with the quiet energy of late afternoon—a few customers lingered at corner tables while others hurried in for last-minute caffeine fixes before heading home.
She glanced at the clock above the register.
Five o’clock. Her shift was over, and the question that had been nagging at her all day resurfaced: would she go to Ethan’s apartment today, as she’d impulsively decided earlier?
She’d been so certain about that when Molly had talked her into it. But as the day wore on, doubt had crept in.
“Earth to April.” Molly’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You’ve been wiping that same spot for like two minutes.”
April blinked, realizing her colleague was right. “Sorry. Just making sure it ‘s clean.”
Molly snorted, leaning against the counter. Her auburn ponytail bobbed as she tilted her head. “Yeah, sure. Nothing to do with a certain dark-haired artist who’s been sketching you every chance he gets.”
Heat crawled up April’s neck. She didn’t reply.
“So, are you going?” Molly rolled her eyes, but her smile was kind. “To his place, I mean. You were pretty set on it earlier.”
April busied herself folding her apron, avoiding Molly’s gaze. “I think maybe not right now. I’ve got some studying to do before my class tonight.”
“Oh my god.” Molly leaned closer, lowering her voice even though no customers were near enough to hear. “You’re chickening out.”
“I’m not,” April protested, but the words lacked conviction. She shoved her apron into her bag with more force than necessary. “I just have priorities.”
Molly laughed. “You’ve already been to his apartment once and that went just fine. What more do you need?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? What more did she need?
April had replayed their conversations countless times in her head, examining them from every angle like her mother would a crime scene.
But this wasn’t about logic or evidence.
It was about the strange flutter in her chest when Ethan smiled at her, the way her thoughts scattered when he was near.
“I don’t know,” April admitted. “It’s just... complicated.”
“It’s now or never, April.” Molly’s tone softened. “If you keep finding excuses, you’ll never go at all.”
April zipped her backpack closed with a decisive tug. Now or never. The words echoed in her mind, taking on weight and significance. Maybe Molly was right. Or maybe...
Maybe it’s never, she thought, surprising herself with how much the idea hurt.
“Thanks for the pep talk, but I really do need to study,” she said aloud, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
Molly sighed, shaking her head. “Fine. Be boring. But don’t come crying to me when someone else snaps him up.”
April forced a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She pushed the Brick House Beanery door open, stepping into the warm June evening. The sidewalk was busy with people enjoying the start of summer, couples walking hand in hand, families heading to early dinners. April felt strangely alone among them.
Now or never.
She dug her car keys from her bag. As she walked toward her parking spot, April couldn’t shake the sense that she was running away from something important—not just Ethan, but something in herself that she wasn’t ready to face.
April slid behind the wheel of her Honda Civic, tossing her backpack onto the passenger seat with unnecessary force.
The car sat baking in the late afternoon sun, and she cranked the air conditioning to maximum before pulling away from the curb.
Part of her—the rational, cautious part—felt relieved.
She’d made the responsible choice. Study first, complicated feelings later.
But another part whispered that she was making a mistake she might regret.
She drove down the familiar streets of Fredericksburg, past brick storefronts and historic buildings that had long since faded into the background of her daily life.
Evening sunlight slanted through the trees, dappling the sidewalks with patches of gold.
She turned the radio on, then immediately switched it off again, preferring the company of her own turbulent thoughts.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind—something Riley had told her years ago about instinct.
“Sometimes your gut knows the truth before your brain does,” she’d said.
April had taken those words to heart, studying criminal psychology and hoping to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
But what did instinct have to say about this situation? About Ethan?
The light ahead turned yellow. April slowed, then stopped. To her left stood the Hyperion café, its large windows revealing the warm glow of pendant lights inside, just as they had two days ago when she’d met Ethan there after work.
The light turned green. April blinked, the memory fading as she accelerated through the intersection. That day at the Hyperion had been the first time she’d felt truly comfortable with Ethan, the first time she’d seen past his quiet exterior to the warmth beneath.
And then she’d gone to his apartment. The memory shifted, bringing with it a different set of feelings. Excitement. Trepidation. The surprise of discovering his artwork covering the walls—landscapes, city scenes, portraits of strangers caught in moments of unguarded emotion.
Then he’d shown her the sketches he’d made of her during his visits to the Brick House Beanery. They were beautiful, of course, but they also made her feel something else.
Fear.
Not of Ethan himself. He’d never been anything but gentle, respectful. No, this was a deeper fear—of letting someone in, of being vulnerable with someone new after everything she’d been through. The kidnapping. The nightmares. The PTSD that had taken months of therapy to manage.
Her vision blurred as she drove on past the Hyperion.
This wasn’t just about Ethan. It was about her, about the person she was becoming.
Her eighteenth birthday had come and gone, and high school was behind her.
She’d survived trauma that would have broken many people.
She was strong enough to face down her fears.
Maybe her mother’s instincts had rubbed off on her after all, because suddenly April knew what she needed to do. Molly’s words echoed in her mind: “It’s now or never.”
She didn’t want it to be never.
At the next intersection, April made an illegal U-turn, earning herself an angry honk from a pickup truck. She didn’t care. she retraced her route, driving the three blocks to Ethan’s building.
“Now,” she whispered to herself as she parked across the street. “It’s now.”
April got out of the car and entered the building and climbed a flight of stairs.
Then she stood outside Ethan’s door. The narrow hallway of his apartment building seemed to stretch and contract around her, the worn carpet beneath her feet suddenly fascinating as she gathered her courage.
She wiped her palms on her jeans, took a deep breath, and knocked—three quick raps that seemed to echo in the quiet corridor.
For a moment, nothing. Then came the sound of footsteps, a pause, and the door swung open to reveal Ethan, his amber eyes widening in surprise, a paintbrush still clutched in his right hand.
“April,” he said, a question and an exclamation all at once.
His dark hair was messier than usual, a smudge of blue paint on his forearm, a faded gray t-shirt spattered with dots of color. The smell of oil paint and turpentine drifted from behind him
“Hi,” she managed, suddenly doubting her impulsive decision. “I’m sorry for just showing up like this.”
Ethan stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. “No, don’t apologize. Come in.” He glanced down at the paintbrush in his hand as if just noticing it. “Sorry about the mess. I was in the middle of...well.”
April stepped inside, noticing the changes since her last visit. The living area had been rearranged, furniture pushed against walls to make space for an easel in the center of the room. Sketches were pinned haphazardly to the wall beside it.
“I wanted to apologize,” she said, turning to face him. “For how I spoke to you earlier. At the coffee shop, I mean. I was distracted, and I—”
“I should be the one apologizing,” Ethan interrupted, setting his paintbrush in a jar of cloudy solvent on a nearby table. “I promised I’d text you, and I didn’t.”
He didn’t elaborate, and April found she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask why. They stood in awkward silence, the air between them charged with unspoken words and half-formed thoughts. April shifted her weight from one foot to the other, searching for something to say.
“So,” they both began at the same time, then stopped, smiling.
“You go,” April said.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just going to ask how your day was.”
“It was fine. Busy.” She hesitated, then added, “I almost didn’t come here.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She glanced away, her gaze landing on the sketches pinned to the wall. Moving closer, she realized with a start that they were the drawings he’d made of her at the Brick House Beanery. Each sketch captured something essential about her, seen through Ethan’s eyes.
Her attention shifted to the easel set up in the center of the room, turned away from her. A canvas was propped on it, visible only from the back.
“What are you painting?” she asked.
Ethan’s expression grew uncertain. “It’s not ready for you to look at yet. It’s still in progress.”
“Is it me?” April asked, taking a step toward the easel.
He hesitated. “Yes. But it’s nowhere near finished.”
“Can I see it anyway?” She moved closer “Please?”
Ethan looked torn, but finally agreed. “Just... remember it’s not done.”
April walked around the easel slowly, her breath catching as the painting came into view.
It was her face, rendered in oils with a tenderness that made her throat tighten.
Ethan had captured not just her physical features—the dark hair, the hazel eyes—but something deeper.
A quiet strength in the set of her jaw, a hint of vulnerability in her gaze.
The background was still rough, mere suggestions of color and shape, but her face emerged from the canvas as if illuminated from within.
“Ethan,” she whispered, emotion making her voice unsteady. “It’s beautiful.”
“Like I said, it’s not finished.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself like this.” She turned to look at him, finding him watching her with an intensity that made her skin warm. “Why didn’t you text me? Really?”
He looked down, then back up at her, his gaze direct despite the flush spreading across his cheeks. “You scare me, April.”
The words were so unexpected she almost laughed. “I scare you? Why?”
“Because...” He gestured helplessly at the painting, the sketches on the wall. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. When I’m with you, everything else fades away. When I’m not with you, I’m thinking about when I’ll see you again. It’s terrifying.”
Without giving herself time to think, she stepped forward and pressed her lips to his in a quick, impulsive kiss. His lips were warm and soft, and for a moment, she felt him respond before she pulled away, heat flooding her cheeks.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, embarrassed by her boldness.
Ethan smiled, the expression transforming his face. “Now I’m more scared than ever.”
April laughed, relief washing through her. “I’m pretty scared too.”
They stood looking at each other, the moment stretching between them like a bridge neither was quite ready to cross. Finally, April glanced at her watch.
“I have to go,” she said reluctantly. “I really do have studying to do before my class tonight.”
Ethan walked her to the door. “Will I see you at the coffee shop tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” She paused in the doorway, looking up at him. “And maybe... maybe you could come to dinner sometime soon. Meet my family.”
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, and something else she couldn’t name. “I’d like that.”
Outside, April walked back to her car, her lips still tingling from the kiss. The evening air felt different somehow, full of possibility. She thought about bringing Ethan home, introducing him to her mother and Jilly. The idea made her nervous, but in a good way. She felt sure that it was time.