Chapter 77
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
HOT! From Wildcard Entertainment’s Kristoffer Wild, Wildcard Media Representative, Paula Stone, and DJ Kensington’s legal representative, Carys Burke-Lennan.
Stone, “We’re excited to announce DJ Kensington has released the name of her first single from her new album, ‘Winding Path,’ which will release before her collaboration with Amanda Reidel.”
Lennan, “‘Love’s Pursuit’ will drop on your favorite streaming platform one week from today.”
Wilde, “Plans have been made for a worldwide stadium tour. Once the single drops, both Wildcard and Kensington’s websites will list the locations.”
The world can’t wait to hear your magical vocals.
#djkensington #wildcard #lovespursuit
—StellaNova
Ethan asks me if I want to eat before or after we talk. I decline food but ask if he’s thirsty. “I wouldn’t mind something to drink.”
Walking into the kitchen, I pull out a pitcher of sweet tea and a couple of glasses before carrying both into my somewhat inhabitable living room. Pouring a glass for each of us, I gesture for him to sit, but he declines. “I’ve been cooped up between the flight and to get to you.”
Sipping on my drink, I quirk a brow at the underlying desperation in his tone. “What for?”
At my question, his face blanks. “What do you mean, ‘What for?’”
“What do you want the outcome of this conversation to be, Ethan?”
Never in a million years did I expect what happens next. Ethan drops to his knees before shuffling over to me. Uncrossing my legs, he spreads them apart and maneuvers himself in between them. “You back in my life, however I can get it.”
“I already am,” I counter because, after our discussion at my apartment in Seven Virtues and my subsequent chat with Leanne, I don’t hold the same kind of resentment I did. I can logically see where the evidence wasn’t good.
What hurt was he didn’t trust in me—in us—enough to confront me with it.
His fingers graze the side of my temple. “Maybe in here, you have. But here”—his fingers trail down to the curvature of my breast where my heart’s thumping wildly—“I owe your heart an explanation. That’s why I had to get one of my own.”
Confused, my brows draw together. “What do you mean?”
Instead of answering me, Ethan reaches into his pocket. For one horrifying moment, I think he’s going to pull out a ring box. While a few months ago, nothing would have made me happier, now I’m terrified I’m going to have to say no.
Instead, he pulls out a small silver picture frame and hands it to me without saying a word.
I study it and frown. “Why did you bring me a picture of your sister and…”
“Not Paige, Fal. Look again.”
My throat closes up when I piece together the age of the photo and the fact that the little boy whose hand the woman’s holding isn’t one of the dark-haired, blue-eyed children Paige has had.
It’s the man on his knees in front of me. Absentmindedly, I cup his cheek while I study how carefree he looks holding his mother’s hand as they tromp through a field of sunflowers together. “You look so happy.”
“Next to the time I’m with you, I think that’s the last time I was.” He studies the photo intently. “Do you know that’s also the last time I was certain my life wasn’t based on a lie?”
“What?” While I’m still struggling to understand, Ethan takes the photo and places it on the nearest table. That’s when he explains the details of his job in the navy—including how he met Sam Aiken and Parker Thornton. I recognize their names from when he explained the situation involved in his hunting down the individuals at Devil’s Lair that might be behind Leanne’s death threats.
He explains the years of field operative work he did for the Agency, using Kensington as his home base, until the world crashed down when all of Tyson’s lies were exposed. How his father admitted to years of lies, of punishing Paige for being the spitting image of her deceased mother, how Tyson went off the rails when Paige became pregnant by Beckett—when he too was a symbol of the people who took his wife from him.
“How did you leave things with him?” I ask, concerned not only for Ethan but also for the whole family.
Ethan, who has long since dropped his head into my lap, shudders. “I said, ‘The problem is, you raised a son who lied for a living, so I know how much lying hurts. It gets so you don’t know what you said to who. It makes it so you don’t know who you are. You say the wrong thing at the wrong time and then live in a world of regret eating away at your soul.’”
I lift my hand to my mouth, fisting it against my lips in an attempt to stifle the sob that wants to escape.
“I walked away from the Agency because I was tired of lying. After I was pulled back in because I owe—owed,” he corrects himself, “Thorn so much, I became that man again.”
“And that was?”
“A liar.” He lifts his head and I’m shocked to find tears falling down his face. “Witch, the only way I deserve to apologize to you is on my knees.”
“Ethan,” I protest.
But his fingers stop absolution from being granted too early. After I hear them, I’m glad they do. “From the first night, we’ve never lied to each other. Even when it might have been easier. Even when it might have hurt less.”
I hesitantly agree, thinking of the women he’s dated, the men I’ve been with. The friendship we maintained that bloomed into something more before it imploded.
He glances over at the picture of himself with his mother. “I want to be the man worthy of holding that woman’s hand and yours. The only way to do that is to stop lying and to promise you the truth.”
“What does that mean?”
His eyes lock onto mine. “It means I no longer call Kensington home. It means I accepted a job working for Sam at Hudson Investigation. I can live in Alaska, North Carolina, the city…or right here in Centerport.” He holds his breath.
Waiting.
I think about the letter from my mother I haven’t had a chance to show him. The opportunity for us to be a regular couple. This is a chance for us to start over.
I don’t realize I’ve shared these things aloud until he lifts himself up until we’re face-to-face, lip-to-lip. “All of that, witch, and more. All that matters to me is that you know I fully intend to pursue you and make you fall in love with me again.”
I shake my head.
His face falls. He swallows hard before he manages, “You just want to be friends?”
This time, it’s me who scoots closer. I thread my fingers in the hair that’s slightly lighter near his temples. Pulling him closer, I brush my lips lightly against his before admitting, “I never fell out of love with you, Ethan. That’s why it hurt so damn much when?—”
He doesn’t give me a chance to finish my sentence. He’s pulled me off the sofa and onto his lap. His lips, at first powerfully devouring, finally begin dropping light kisses around my face as he murmurs, “I love you,” over and over. As if he says it enough it will penetrate.
I don’t plan on stopping him any time soon. Still, I’m not ready for the breakneck free-for-all we lived through before. Pushing my hand against his chest, I ask, “So, what’s your plan?”
At that, he stands before placing me on my feet. “Just you wait and see.”
I study his face solemnly for a long moment, reconciling the man I fell in love with at eighteen, the man who became my friend, my lover, and then a complete stranger. Still, deep down, maybe I always knew there was a piece of him with me. Tentatively, I broach a subject I hope it’s not too soon to mention. “I have two questions.”
“What are they?”
I chew on my lip before working up the nerve to ask, “What’s going to happen to Devil’s Lair? You made it sound like they were into something awful. Then Leanne implied…”
He lays his finger across my lips. “That’s still an ongoing investigation, witch. I can’t share much but what I can is an agent Sam and Leanne trust with their lives is going to help them out.”
“Florence? Becca?” I think of all the others who might be caught in the crossfire and left destitute.
He scrubs his cheek against mine before murmuring against my ear. “Sam’s daughter will be by their side. Rachel is the best at what she does. She won’t let them get hurt”
The pressure inside my chest releases. I can feel his smile against my cheek before he asks, “What’s number two?”
“Whiskey.” Quickly, I share, “Maybe it was your voice. Maybe…I don’t know.”
He jerks his face back, brows lower into a V . Ethan’s voice is serious when he asks, “What about whiskey, Fallon?”
My head ducks to the side before I admit shyly, “In my head, whenever you’d call Devil’s Lair, I’d started calling you Whiskey. Me, all the operators, we all had nicknames for our callers. That’s what I used to call you.”
To my astonishment, Ethan tosses his head back and roars with laughter. I slap my hand against his chest. “It’s not that funny.”
“Actually,” he starts. Then he leans down and whispers in my ear. By the time he’s done, my body’s molded against his, and my mind is whirling at how I unknowingly gave him a nickname that was the drink he used to consume on every call and was his Agency code name. “No way. You’re kidding, right?”
He pulls back and flashes a smile at me I’ve dreamed about for five long years. “There’s no way I’d kid about something like that. When you meet him, ask Thorn to confirm it.”
When I meet him. His words imply I will be a part of his world for a long time to come.
When we first met, I never meant to pursue Ethan Kensington. I’m just grateful, in the end, we each followed our own path and still managed to be right here.
With each other.