34. Ethan
34
ETHAN
The living room stares back, blankly silent, in that unnerving way only December 25th can bring when it feels like the world has leapt forward without you, celebrating something that doesn’t feel meant for you. The line of beer cans on the coffee table glints in the gray half-light—a sorry little squad of my own Christmas soldiers, waiting to see which one’s brave enough to take the first hit.
The Christmas lights are still flashing in smug bursts of red and green along the wall, blinking like they’re in on the cosmic joke. A twinkling reminder of what the season’s supposed to mean. For me, though, Christmas has been nothing but a hollow routine since David died. It’s funny, really, how you can be surrounded by so much color, but everything around you stays drained and muted.
The couch holds me like a reluctant host, my fingers barely brushing the lip of a half-open can when my phone rings. The harsh buzzing snaps me out of my half-drunk haze like a bucket of ice water. Frank Carter.
My thumb hovers over “Decline.” It would be easy enough. I’m no stranger to ignoring calls. But I don’t press it. Something makes me linger, thumb still, eyes stuck on his name.
I press “Accept.”
“Frank.”
“Ethan. Surprised you answered my call on Christmas morning,” he says, and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, smug as ever. “Finally realized we’re family?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I mutter, voice low, just edging on contempt. “Only answered because I want to remind you of all the blood on your hands.”
“Ethan, listen?—”
“No, you listen!” The words explode out of me before I can stop. Years of pent-up bitterness spill out like I’ve been keeping them bottled and they’re just now breaking free. I tell him everything—the way he twisted my life and David’s to fit his agenda, how he handled our careers like assets to buy and sell, and how he turned David into a product and left me with nothing but scars.
A pause, stretching too long, too quiet. I can almost see Frank on the other end, shifting into his version of a magnanimous elder—a role he’s always been terrible at.
“You know, for what it’s worth, we tried to help you,” he says finally, like he’s really saying look at how ungrateful you are, Ethan.
I let out a laugh, dry and humorless. “Help me? Is that what you call it? Demanding money. Using me to clean up every mess, like I’m some bottomless safety net for your failures?”
There’s another pause, heavy. “I’m sorry, Ethan. You’re right.”
My pulse hitches. I wasn’t expecting that. Didn’t think Frank Carter had the capacity for an apology, even a half-baked one. “Listen,” he continues, his voice softer, almost reluctant, “if this is about David, well … David’s death wasn’t on us, and it sure wasn’t on you. You know that, Ethan.”
My breath shudders out, almost foreign in my chest, like I’ve forgotten how to breathe normally. I picked up the call for answers, maybe even a little closure, but here’s Frank, cutting through me with a painful honesty I didn’t expect.
“I know that,” I say, my voice wavering, surprising myself. “But everything you’ve done since then. I don’t know how to forgive that.”
He exhales, sounding almost tired. “Look, you’re right to blame me, Gloria, the kids—all of us. I probably don’t deserve forgiveness for it. But don’t go blaming us for something we couldn’t stop. David’s gone, and no one can change that. And he’d want you to move on. Even if it means cutting us off, Ethan, you deserve to move on.”
His words twist something deep in my ribs. David. What would David even say to this? I can practically see his easy, crooked grin. “Do you think I’d want this to be your life?” I hear him say, almost like he’s right next to me.
“Maybe you’re right,” I mumble finally, pressing the phone to my forehead. “But why are you doing this?”
“Call it a Christmas epiphany,” Frank says, and then, with the faintest trace of warmth I’ve never heard from him before, “Merry Christmas, Ethan.”
The line clicks off, leaving me in silence again, surrounded by my own half-drunk lineup of holiday cheer.
I sit there, still, trying to process what just happened, when another buzz on my phone snaps me back to the present—Reid. A tiny crack of relief breaks through the numbness. Work, at least, is something I can control.
“Ethan,” Reid begins without preamble. “Raymond Blue’s been exposed; the whole thing’s a wash for him. It turns out he had a vendetta, and I also think you’ll be pleased to know that Jake Roland’s marketing contract with the team has been terminated. Your suspension is also lifted.”
I grip the phone a little tighter. “And what about Holly?”
“Well, that’s part of why I’m calling. The team has dealt with the worst of the fallout, but we need you back without a whisper of scandal. Now, we want to keep things clear, so she’s going to need?—”
“Don’t let go of her.” The words come out harsher than I intend. I take a breath. “Listen, anything you need from me—PR, contract changes, whatever it takes—just keep Holly out of this. And know I’ll be there for the team.”
There’s a pause on the other end, then Reid sighs, his voice lighter. “You got it, Ethan. The board has no plans to lose Holly, not after everything she’s done here. And we’ll leave the PR in your hands.”
I feel the weight shift just a little—one less battle, at least. I’ve got Holly’s back in this, and if it’s up to me, no one’s going to blame her for anything that happened.
After the call, a realization blooms, like something out of place—I want to fight for her, to see her happy. Even if she doesn’t want to have much to do with me again. The darkness and hatred that bred in me since I lost David has probably scared away my best chance at love and now it’s time to get rid of it.
There's only one place to do that. I throw on a coat and key the ignition, guiding the car onto the icy streets. Snow flurries around me, thickening the air until it feels like I’m driving through a memory.
The cemetery comes into view, a silent, endless sea of white. David’s grave is marked by a small stone, dusted in snow. My feet crunch against the ground as I approach, every step a bit heavier than the last.
When I finally reach it, I stand there for a long moment, just looking at the name etched in stone. David Carter. Beloved Brother.
“Hey, little bro,” I whisper. The words hang in the air, freezing before they can reach anyone’s ears. “Miss you, you know.”
I pause, letting the silence settle like snow on my shoulders. “I’ve been mad, David. Just so mad that you left. But I get it now. It’s not about what happened—it’s about what you’d want for me now.”
I clear my throat, and my voice comes out rough, “I’m sorry, David. For everything.” The words hang in the air, mingling with the mist of my breath. I thank him too—for everything he’d given me, even if it ended too soon. And with each word, the weight in my chest seems to lift, bit by bit, like I’m finally unburdening myself from a load I didn’t realize I’d been carrying.
Snow begins to fall faster, tiny flakes dancing down from the sky, settling on the gravestone and on my shoulders. It feels almost like a blessing. And then, through the snowfall, I hear a voice.
“Hey, Ethan.”
I look up, startled, and there she is. Holly. She’s standing a few feet away, her silhouette framed against the white landscape, cheeks flushed and her breath fogging the air. She looks relieved, maybe even a little nervous.
“Holly?” My voice is thick, caught between shock and something else—something warmer.
She steps closer, her hands stuffed into her coat pockets, and lets out a small laugh, shaky but genuine. “I, uh, I thought you might be here.”
For a second, neither of us says anything, and the silence feels almost expectant. Like the air is holding its breath, waiting for one of us to break it. Holly’s eyes dart away, then back to mine, and she starts talking, words tumbling out like she’s been holding them in too long.
“I was wrong, Ethan. About you, about everything. I let my past, my fears get in the way. I thought I could protect myself by keeping everyone at arm’s length, especially someone like you. And I’m sorry.” Her voice falters, but she pushes on, eyes glistening. “I’ve never trusted anyone in my career, especially not after Jake. But you? You’re different.”
Her words cut through me, sharp and warm, and I feel something thaw in my chest that I hadn’t realized was frozen. I open my mouth to respond, but she beats me to it, her voice stronger now.
“Oh, and by the way,” she adds, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Raymond? He’s done. I made sure the world knows what a snake he is, how he tried to ruin you.” She gives a little shrug, as if it’s no big deal, but the smile on her face says otherwise.
I’m staring at her, barely able to believe it. Holly—fierce, brave, beautiful Holly—took down Raymond Blue for me. For us.
I step forward, closing the space between us until I can see the tiny snowflakes clinging to her lashes. “You’re incredible, you know that?” My voice comes out low, barely more than a murmur, and I feel the weight of my words settle between us.
She lets out a small, breathy laugh, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. “Well, it takes one to know one.”
In that moment, I realize I can’t hold back anymore. I reach for her, my hands finding her waist, pulling her close until there’s barely an inch between us. The snow falls softly around us, and her eyes meet mine, wide and bright.
“I mean it, Holly,” I say, my voice rough with everything I’ve been holding back. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to.”
Her hand reaches up, fingers brushing along my jaw, and there’s a softness in her gaze that makes my chest tighten. “Then don’t.” Holly takes a breath, visible in the freezing air, before letting out a half-nervous, half-laughing sound. “There’s something I need to tell you. I know it’s big, and maybe the timing is all wrong, but I’m pregnant…” Her hands slide over her stomach, just for a moment, and it clicks.
The realization hits me like the sudden warmth of sunlight breaking through clouds. I just stare, taking her in—this woman who’s somehow fit perfectly into every corner of my heart, now holding something more, something miraculous.
“You’re pregnant?” I breathe, the words almost catching in my throat.
She nods, eyes filling with tears that she tries to brush away with a laugh. “I am. I am,” she says, stepping closer, her face softening. “I know what this means, and I know it’s going to be a lot, but I?—”
I can’t hold back any longer; I pull her into my arms, pressing her close, my heart hammering against hers. A rush of relief, of pure joy, sweeps through me, more powerful than anything I’ve felt since I lost David. And for the first time, the future feels like something I want, something I can almost reach out and grasp.
“Holly,” I murmur, voice choked. “This—this is everything. I want this. I want us to be a family.” My hand finds her face, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I don’t want to make the mistakes my family did. I want us. All of it. With you by my side.”
She smiles through her own happy tears, one hand resting on my cheek. “You’re sure? I mean, a family—raising kids—it’s huge.”
I pull her close again, feeling her heartbeat against mine, a beautiful rhythm that grounds me. “I’ve never been surer of anything. We’ll do it right, Holly. I’m ready to build a life. A real one, with you and…” My hand hovers over her stomach, eyes wide with awe and a kind of reverence I didn’t know I had. “And our child.”
I lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that feels like coming home, like everything I didn’t know I was missing. She melts into me, her arms wrapping around my neck as the world fades away, leaving just us, just this moment.
When we finally pull back, breathless and grinning, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long, long time.
Hope.
I hold her close, the snow falling gently around us, and for the first time I know that this Christmas I’ve found something worth holding on to.