Chapter 26 Leni
Leni
After Ethan leaves, I put away the groceries he bought and explore the cabin.
The layout is quite simple; there are two spacious bedrooms off the open-plan kitchen and living room, both with walk-in robes and ensuite bathrooms. There’s a small laundry off the kitchen, with a door that leads to the back of the property.
Professor Johnson’s parents must be loaded.
It has a rustic, cosy feel, but there are little touches that scream money, like the marble benchtops, the matte black tapware, and the skylights that flood the place with natural light.
The parquetry floorboards are stunning, and the stone fireplace completes the cosy vibe.
Every square inch of this cabin is intentional but not flashy, like someone built it not to impress, but to truly enjoy it.
Once I’ve explored the inside, I grab my yoga mat and step outside, breathing in the crisp, eucalyptus-scented air.
This place is spectacular. The bush hums around me, and I stretch my arms overhead, lengthening my spine as I let out a long exhale.
This is paradise. No phone reception, no traffic noise, no people—although I am counting down the hours until Ethan returns.
This past month has been incredible, and not just because of the mind-blowing sex. It’s the small things, like the way he holds me in his arms, the deep conversations, and the deliciously forbidden stolen moments in his office.
We’ve been careful. I always Uber to his place so no one sees my car, and I haven’t slept over.
We’re trying to maintain the casual boundaries of this arrangement, but with the invitation this weekend, and the intense conversation in the car, I’m starting to wonder if the lines are beginning to blur.
In my mind, they were always an illusion.
I’m not stupid. I know he’s leaving, but at the same time, there’s always been this small sliver of hope that maybe something more might come from this.
That is, if the truth of what his son did to me doesn’t tear us apart.
I only hope he doesn’t hold it against me for hiding it from him.
Trying to push those thoughts out of my head for now, I step into the bush and wander a little way down the scrub-lined trail that winds away from the property. My shoes crunch over twigs and dry leaves, and every step offers me a new sense of stillness. I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
Dad used to take me camping when we were little—Mum refused to come, saying the twins were too young—and I’ve always loved that freeing sense of adventure that comes from being in the middle of nowhere.
After walking for half an hour, I find a small clearing just off the path that’s perfect.
I roll out my mat and settle into a gentle flow of stretches and poses.
Everything comes easily to me today, and I switch off my brain as I focus on my breathing and move through each transition.
For the first time in months, I feel light and happy.
The breeze plays in my hair, and I close my eyes, taking in the cacophony of nature surrounding me—the rustling of leaves, birds chirping, and somewhere far off in the distance the sound of running water. My happy place. Made even better by the anticipation of Ethan coming back to share it with me.
When I open my eyes, they land on a kaleidoscope of butterflies, and a smile tugs on my lips.
Something about this weekend feels like a new beginning, and although I’m nervous about what this means with Ethan, I’m also excited.
I know if this thing between us moves from casual territory into something more serious, then I have to tell him about Dylan, but I don’t have to tell him this weekend.
For now, I want to be present in this moment and enjoy every second of our time together.
The best part is I don’t have to leave after sex.
I get to stay cocooned in his embrace and wake up next to him in the morning.
When I get back to the cabin, I make myself a sandwich and clean up after myself before crossing into the living room, where I run my fingers over the spines of the books, marvelling at the collection, though I shouldn’t be surprised with Professor Johnson’s love of literature.
There’s a wide variety, from classics—Moby Dick, Wuthering Heights, Great Expectations—to contemporary titles in a variety of genres, including a selection of Mills and Boon romance novels that I really hope belong to Professor Johnson’s mother.
I feel like a kid in a candy shop, and my smile widens when I find plays by Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde, and a handful of poetry books including T.S.
Eliot, Walt Whitman, and Sylvia Plath, along with a handful I’ve never heard of.
I select one of them at random, The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kuar, and flick through, pausing to read a couple of poems.
One in particular causes my chest to ache because it reminds me of Ethan.
It’s a thought-provoking insight into the way sunflowers rise with the sun and bow their heads in mourning as it leaves.
The final two lines, ‘this is what the sun does to those flowers, it’s what you do to me’, are a reflection of how I am with Ethan.
When he’s around, he’s my sun, lifting my mood and making me happy, and when he’s not, it feels like a part of me is missing.
Swallowing down the intense feelings the poem evokes, I replace it on the shelf and glance around the cabin, a little overwhelmed by how much my feelings for Ethan have grown.
If he still chooses to walk away from us after graduation, I honestly don’t know how I’ll survive the damage to my heart.
In such a short time, he’s reinstated my trust in men and made me feel safe and seen.
I’m not ready to have that crushed all over again.
He’s not due back for another hour and a half, so I decide to take a bath.
The only conundrum is I’m not sure which bedroom we’re supposed to sleep in.
One is clearly Professor Johnson’s parents’ room—there are framed photos of them travelling on the wall.
The other must be the spare, but I can’t help thinking this is the room Professor Johnson would stay in.
While I feel awkward about sleeping in his parents’ bed, I feel equally awkward sleeping in my professor’s bed, especially when I’m sleeping with another professor.
In the end, I release a sigh and carry our bags into the second bedroom and try to ignore the intrusive thoughts of my Creative Writing professor doing God knows what with God knows who in that bed. At least the sheets smell fresh.
I duck back into the living room and pull a random thriller off the shelf, then return to the bedroom to undress. Grabbing a fresh change of clothes, I enter the giant ensuite and place my clothes on the vanity before running the bath.
Much to my delight, I find jasmine-scented bath salts under the sink, so I pour a handful in as the water runs into the beautiful claw-foot bath.
The floor-to-ceiling window that exposes the bush behind the property is a cute touch.
There’s a blind for privacy, but I’m the only one here, so I leave it open.
Once it’s ready, I step into the scorching hot water and sink down. Steam rises to kiss my cheek, and I smile and let out a content sigh. Careful not to drop the book in the water, I lean back against the porcelain and begin reading, falling into a story of secrets and shadows.
Eventually, the water cools, so I twist the tap and top it up with fresh hot water.
After doing this two more times, I realise my skin is becoming prune-like, so I begrudgingly put down the book and climb out of the bath, dressing quickly and taking the captivating book to the living room, where I cosy up on the couch closest to the open fireplace.
The soft crackle of the burning wood must lull me into a doze, because the next thing I know, the thud of the door closing is startling me awake. Blinking sleepily, I twist around to see Ethan smiling softly at me while kicking his shoes off.
“Sorry,” he says, crossing the room and leaning down to brush a light kiss over my lips. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
The action feels so natural, it makes my heart squeeze. Before he can pull away, I circle his neck with my hands and deepen the kiss.
He chuckles against my lips. “Well, isn’t this a nice welcome home.”
Home.
Does this man even realise what he’s doing to my insides?
When he pulls away gently, I release him, running my tongue over my bottom lip.
A small sound grumbles from his throat, and his eyes heat with desire as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Goddamn it, Leni. You have no fucking idea what you do to me.”
“How did the game go?” I ask, changing the topic before I throw caution to the wind and throw myself at this perfect man.
He grins, and I love the way it lights up his entire face. “We won. Beckford U have secured the championship.”
“That’s amazing! Congratulations.” I pause, suddenly feeling guilty. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with the team?”
“No, little devil.” Ethan shakes his head. “I’m right where I want to be.”
He takes a seat next to me and pulls me into his embrace. I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing in that masculine scent of cedarwood and something that’s uniquely him.
“How is it you know all the right things to say?” I tease.
His chuckle vibrates through me, warming my insides. “You seem to bring the best out of me.”
I nuzzle into him. “You bring the best out of me, too.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“This place is magical.”
“It is,” he agrees, brushing his nose over mine. “Sometimes I wish I had a place like this. Somewhere to just hide away when all the noise gets too loud.”
“Sounds incredible.”
Ethan’s smile is contagious. “One day.”