9. Lena #3
Ethan’s smile broadened, genuine pleasure lighting his eyes. “Perfect adjustment based on new data. Very engineer-like of you.”
My next throw missed, but the final one landed perfectly around a corner peg, the most difficult target. Ethan handed me a small stuffed animal, a blue bear with a slightly crooked smile.
“Standard prize protocol,” he said when I tried to decline. “Can’t break party rules.”
I accepted the bear, oddly touched by the small token. “Thank you for the lesson.”
“Any time.” The words hung between us, weighted with possible meanings. After a moment, he glanced at his watch. “My shift here is done. Would you like to walk around a bit? They’ve got spiced cider and fireworks later by the square.”
The invitation felt significant, not a professional consultation or a chance encounter, but a deliberate choice to spend time together. I knew I should decline, make my way back to my apartment and my work. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to voice a refusal.
“I’d like that,” I said, tucking the small bear into my purse.
We navigated through the crowd, not quite touching but walking close enough that our hands occasionally brushed.
The contact, though fleeting, sent little sparks up my arm each time.
At a refreshment stand, Ethan bought two cups of spiced cider, the steam carrying cinnamon and clove scents into the warm late afternoon air.
“To thorough research,” he said, tapping his cup gently against mine.
“And accurate data collection,” I replied.
We found a quiet spot near the edge of the celebration, a bench partially sheltered by an old maple tree. Sitting beside him felt both dangerous and right, the small space between us charged with unspoken thoughts.
“About last night,” he started, his voice lower now that we were away from the crowd.
“We don’t have to,” I began, automatic deflection rising to my lips.
“It was wrong of me,” he interrupted gently. “I was fired up and emotional. I didn’t get to tell you but, I had just left my father at the home.”
“Ethan, you don’t–”
“But I do. He wasn’t doing well. Isn’t doing well. I left and needed to be able to connect with the man that he was before he got sick, and when the overlook was closed. I just… I lost it. And you didn’t deserve that.”
“God, Ethan, I’m so sorry.”
My heart ached for him in that moment, the quiet grief that sat behind his eyes.
“I appreciate that, but it doesn’t excuse my behavior. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I had no right to yell, to…kiss you like that. Even if now, tonight, I can’t really say that I regret it.”
The admission hung in the air between us, neither of us quite ready to reach for its implications.
“I’ve lived in Cedar Hills my entire life,” Ethan said after a moment, his gaze on the decorations fluttering in the breeze.
“Never stayed anywhere else for more than a few weeks. Never wanted to. I spent a lot of time judging you because of the rules you live by. Failed to realize that we all have a tendency to get our hackles up when someone tries to change the rules on us. That’s what you being here has done.
It’s changed the rules. For the town. For me. ”
I understood what he wasn’t saying. That I represented the opposite, someone who never stayed anywhere, who built no lasting connections. He wasn’t wrong. “Three months is the longest assignment I’ve had,” I admitted. “Usually, I’m in and out in weeks, sometimes days.”
“And after Cedar Hills?”
“Another assignment. There’s always another road, another town.” The words tasted bitter now, though they’d been my mantra for years.
Ethan nodded slowly, absorbing this. “Places can surprise you sometimes. Grow on you when you’re not expecting it.”
“It’s not just the place,” I said softly, the most honest I’d been since arriving.
His eyes met mine, holding a question I wasn’t ready to answer. Instead of pressing, he stood and offered his hand. “It’s getting late. May I walk you home?”
I placed my hand in his, letting him help me up though I didn’t need the assistance. His palm was warm and calloused, fingers curling around mine with careful strength. He didn’t let go as we began walking, and I didn't pull away.
The celebration sounds faded behind us as we moved toward his shop and my temporary apartment above it. The night had brought a gentle coolness, and the stars appeared in the darkening sky above Cedar Hills. Neither of us spoke, the silence comfortable in a way I rarely experienced with others.
At the bottom of the metal staircase leading to the apartment, we paused. The moment stretched between us, possibility hovering in the narrow space that separated us.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” Ethan said, his voice low in the quiet evening. “Even if it was just for professional research.”
“It wasn’t,” I admitted, the truth slipping out before I could catch it. “Not entirely.”
His smile was soft in the dim light. He lifted our still-joined hands and pressed a gentle kiss against my knuckles, a gesture both old-fashioned and deeply intimate. “Good night, Lena.”
“Good night,” I whispered, reluctantly withdrawing my hand from his.
I climbed the stairs slowly, aware of him watching from below until I reached the door.
Inside the apartment, I leaned against the closed door, the small blue bear from the ring toss peeking out from my purse on the table.
My technical drawings were exactly where I left them, waiting for the professional attention I couldn’t give them earlier.
I knew I should work. I knew I should remember that this assignment, like all others, had an endpoint.
I should guard against forming attachments that would only make leaving more difficult.
But as I touched the spot where Ethan’s lips pressed against my hand, I wondered if these sensible thoughts came too late.