28. Ethan
28
ETHAN
The morning sun cuts through the window blinds, casting shadows across the kitchen like some kind of accusatory art installation. It’s as if even the light is pointing fingers. So, today’s the day. The grand gesture to end all gestures. Holly’s favorite breakfast—scrambled eggs, buttery croissants, and a fruit parfait so colorful it looks like a Pinterest post—is almost ready. And yes, a big heaping side of apology comes with it.
Maybe it’s not flowers or a candlelit dinner, but it’s effort. It’s the kind of thing that shouts, hey, I’m really trying here.
I hear footsteps. She’s coming down. Holly steps into the kitchen, and there she is, wrapped in a messy bun, an oversized hoodie, and a look that could split granite. Those usually sparkling eyes are dull, shadowed, like they’ve somehow absorbed every frustrating thing I’ve done over the past week and decided to reflect it right back at me. So, this is how it ends—not with a bang, but with a bun and a stare.
“Good morning,” I try, aiming for light, casual, unbothered.
“What’s this?”
“I made you breakfast, Holly.”
Her arms fold over her chest. The look says it all; she’s about as interested in this breakfast as a cat in a bathtub. “Not hungry.”
Not hungry? My mouth twitches. Not even a bite, a sniff, an ounce of polite nibbling for effort’s sake? But no. She turns on her heel, ready to leave, and something snaps. “So, that’s it? You just blow me off?”
She pauses, her back to me, stiff as a board. Then, slowly, she turns. There’s that smirk, the kind that would be cute if it didn’t look like she’d been bottling it up for days. “Look, Ethan, I need space. Not this … show.”
This show. The words hit hard, irritation tugging at the edges of composure. “A show, huh?” The words barely leave a whisper. “You treating me like I’m invisible lately is the show here. Might as well be part of the wallpaper.”
Her eyes flash, a fire behind the surface. “You just don’t get it.”
Don’t get it? The spark of frustration ignites. Does she think I haven’t noticed the looks, the distance, the constant ‘not right nows?’ “So, make me understand,” it comes out more of a challenge than intended.
A silence thick as snow falls over us, until her gaze narrows, sharpened by some emotion she keeps buried. Holly’s jaw tightens, her voice just as raw. “You don’t want the truth.”
A tremor of uncertainty settles in. But a simple, insistent need for answers hardens the resolve. “Try me.”
“You try it first, Ethan,” she spits out, her voice sharper than the knives on the counter. “You’re not exactly in a place to demand the truth from anyone.”
My fists clench around the dish towel. “What do you even mean? How am I supposed to know the problem when you won’t even open up to me?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re acting like you’ve got some deep, dark secret life.” Her voice rings through the kitchen like a bell of doom. “You think I haven’t noticed all the disappearing acts, the phone calls outside? What exactly are you hiding from me, Ethan?”
Her words hit like punches, and every one of them hits a mark I didn’t even realize was a bruise. “That’s ... it’s not like that,” I manage, but the words feel weak.
“Oh, right.” Her eyes narrow, daring me to explain myself with that same razor-sharp glare. “So, you expect me to just forget that and fake smile at you? I’m not that kind of a hypocrite, Ethan.”
The accusation stings. Badly. She thinks—well, actually, she’s not entirely wrong. But she’s so far off on the why that I’m almost ready to laugh. Almost. “You wouldn’t understand,” I say, as if that will magically make everything better.
Her mouth twists. “Try me, Ethan. Or is honesty off-limits in our little whatever-this-is ?”
Whatever-this-is. The words chill the room more than the morning frost outside. Holly spins on her heel, storming out before I can even decide if it’s smart to stop her. But before she can reach the stairs, the unmistakable buzz of my phone interrupts the air between us.
The name on the screen reads Mandy. It’s her, of course. I lift my head to meet Holly’s icy gaze as she turns back. “Go on,” she says, her voice flat, deadpan. “Take it. Probably someone important, right?”
Holly bolts out of the room before I can even get a word in edgewise. The door slams like thunder, echoing through the house, leaving me stranded in a mess of eggs and guilt.
The eggs are cold by the time I finally pick up the phone, my voice barely registering a greeting. Mandy’s voice crackles through, soft, polite, almost apologetic.
“Ethan, sorry if this is a bad time…” She sounds hesitant, like she knows she’s adding another layer of trouble on an already heaping stack. “But I’ve got the papers ready. We could meet up, sign them, get everything squared away.”
The thought of funding Aunt Gloria’s next little venture makes my jaw tighten. But it’s Mandy—the only one from that side of the family who doesn’t make my blood boil. So I manage, “Sure, where?”
She suggests her hotel, with that same cautious tone, and I agree. At this point, meeting at her place is the least complicated part of my day.
Not knowing what to do with Holly, I head out and drive to the hotel, hoping that will give her some time to cool down. The hotel lobby greets me with warm, low lights and the hum of quiet jazz drifting through the air. Mandy sits by the window, looking smaller than she ever did growing up, as if guilt has taken inches off her frame.
“Hey,” she says, looking up with a cautious smile. “Thanks for coming.”
My nod’s stiff. Businesslike. “Let’s just get these papers signed.”
She hands them over, and for a few minutes, the only sounds are the scratch of pen on paper and Mandy’s soft breaths, steadying herself. Once I’m finished, she hesitates, looking at me like she’s summoning courage from somewhere deep.
“You … you don’t look good, Ethan. Is everything okay?”
I almost laugh. Everything okay ? Not by a long shot. But Mandy’s eyes hold genuine concern, not the nosy prying I’ve come to expect from others.
“It’s the woman I’m in a relationship with; her name’s Holly.”
“Wow, that’s wonderful.” She claps. “Knowing you, I was worried you wouldn’t let anyone in after … you know.”
“Well, she’s kind of irresistible.” I admit, the words pulling themselves out before I even realize I’ve said them.
Mandy grins. “Sounds like you’ve really got something good going on with her.”
I shake my head. “Not at the moment. Everything seems fine a couple of days ago, and now … I don’t even know who I’m dealing with. She just shut down on me, and it’s like she’s a million miles away.”
She nods, thoughtful. “Sometimes, it’s not about the distance. People … well, sometimes we don’t even know what we’re feeling ourselves. Maybe it’s something she can’t express yet.”
A huff escapes before I can stop it. “Or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore.”
Mandy sighs, shaking her head. “No, it doesn’t sound like that. You should talk to her. Be honest. Sounds like you’re both holding something back, and if that’s what’s keeping you apart…”
The thought sticks, even as I brush it off. Maybe she’s right, maybe this whole mess is because neither of us is saying what needs to be said. As I leave, her words echo in my mind, mingling with the realization that waiting around for things to get better won’t fix a thing. It’s time to take control, even if that means being vulnerable for once.
A plan forms in my mind, and the first step is to take control of the situation with Raymond Blue. I need to ensure Holly’s safe. The phone feels heavy as I scroll to the name I’d saved as ‘The leech’ on my phone.
The line clicks, and there’s that smug, slippery voice. “Mr. Carter,” he purrs, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Listen carefully, Blue. Whatever plans you’ve got for Holly—you’ll drop them, now. If you don’t, I’ll make it my mission to ruin you so thoroughly your grandkids will feel it.”
There’s a chuckle on the other end, casual and infuriating. “Always the charmer, Ethan. But fine, I can see you’re serious. For now, I’ll play nice.”
The line clicks off, but the tension lingers. This isn’t over. Not even close. And as much as I want to feel relieved, something tells me this won’t be the last I hear from him. He’s the kind of pest that doesn’t stay squashed.
Now I feel the need to be where Holly is. And it’s great that I know she’s at the gala hall with Lauren and Mia. Something tells me they’ll need some manpower so I call in the cavalry.
The phone rings twice before Ryan answers, groggy and clearly unimpressed. “Do you know it’s Saturday? My one day of sleep?”
“Get up, Ryan. Get Liam, too. We’re heading to the gala hall to help.”
There’s a beat of silence before a laugh bursts through the speaker. “Wait—this is about Holly, isn’t it? You’re dragging us to a gala prep to impress her?”
“Just get there. And try not to ruin her day.”
By the time my car rolls onto the driveway that reveals the familiar Blizzards event hall looming ahead, anticipation is curling through my belly with each breath. My apology speech rings again and again in my head. Ryan and Liam are already there, both with grins that stretch from ear to ear.
“Dragged us out of bed for this?” Ryan snickers, eyes glinting with playful accusation.
Liam chimes in, brow arched. “Someone’s whipped.”
My laugh falls short, but there’s a shrug, a quick deflection. “Just returning a favor.”
The teasing fades as we enter, the hall alive with Holly’s touch, her careful attention in every detail—from the vibrant greenery to the garlands wound with precision. Holly’s voice, clear and direct, filters through the bustle, assigning tasks and managing each detail with effortless authority.
As we approach, Holly’s gaze lands on me, her expression instantly turning cold, then she turns away, refusing to even look my way as I walk in with Ryan and Liam in tow.
“Now I see why you want us here,” Ryan leans in with a smirk. “You had a big fight. She’s ignoring you, man.”
I brush him off, approaching Holly. “Need a hand?”
She barely glances up. “I’m good, thanks.”
The sting from her words is sharper than I expected, but I steel myself. “You sure? We brought extra manpower.”
A huff of exasperation escapes her, and she motions for Mia to take over before turning to me with a tight, forced smile. “Actually, Ethan, I think I’d prefer it if you left. I don’t need more … distractions.”
Ouch. The word slices through me, laced with more frustration than I’ve ever heard from her. Ryan and Liam exchange a quick, uncomfortable glance before Ryan clears his throat. “We’ll, uh, go help Lauren and Mia.”
They leave us standing there, in the middle of Christmas cheer and twinkling lights, both of us too stubborn to step down.
“You’re shutting me out.” It’s a struggle to keep my tone even, though every part of me feels like it’s being stretched to its breaking point. “I’m here to help, Holly. Why won’t you let me?”
“Help?” She laughs, a bitter sound that hurts more than I thought it would. “Ethan, you’re just making things harder.”
A cold weight settles in my chest as she walks away, disappearing into the crowd of helpers, leaving me standing there like an outsider in a place that suddenly feels colder than snow.
My feet are rooted to the ground as my eyes follow her. One second, she’s moving boxes of decorations with Mia and Lauren. The next, her face goes pale, her steps falter, and in the blink of an eye, she crumples to the ground.
The world narrows, every sound fading into a blur as I sprint forward, my heart pounding in my chest. “Holly!” The name rips from my throat, harsh and desperate, and I’m on my knees beside her, barely registering Mia’s frantic calls for an ambulance.
My hands shake as I lift her head, her face ghostly white. “Come on, Holly,” I whisper, brushing hair away from her forehead. “Stay with me.”
For the next three minutes, a flurry of voices surrounds me, panic reflected in every gaze around us. But my own vision narrows, each second blurring into another as I cradle her, the strength of my heartbeat matching the terror I feel.
The distant wail of the ambulance grows louder, but it doesn’t feel fast enough. Every second stretches into an eternity, and all I can think is, this can’t be happening. Not now, not to her.
The paramedics arrive, pulling her onto a stretcher, and I don’t even hesitate to climb into the ambulance after them, clutching her hand as if letting go would be the final, unforgivable mistake.
As the ambulance speeds toward the hospital, something shifts inside me. A realization, one that’s both terrifying and undeniable: I can’t lose her. I love her. More than I’ve ever allowed myself to admit. And as the lights blur past, I can’t shake the fear that I might have waited too long to tell her.