16. Ethan
16
Ethan
E than closed the front door, and Hero bounded down the hallway, paws skidding on the smooth floor.
“Hey buddy! Miss me?” Ethan chuckled, bending down to ruffle the fur on Hero’s neck.
“I know, I know. Come on, let’s go outside.”
Hero didn’t need to be told twice. He darted past Ethan and through the doggy door, while Ethan ambled to the kitchen. At the counter, Ethan grabbed a tennis ball from the mesh bag full of dog toys before stepping onto the back porch and shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun.
Hero’s eyes lit up, and his fluffy tail wagged wildly when Ethan revealed the worn, neon-yellow tennis ball. With a grin, Ethan tossed the ball across the yard, watching as Hero bounded after it with unbridled enthusiasm, his paws kicking up tufts of grass.
As Hero raced back with the ball, Ethan’s mind wandered to the rescue, and inevitably, to Kara. He couldn’t help but marvel at Kara’s dedication. The sheer amount of work she managed on her own was staggering. Hero dropped the ball, now coated in slobber, at Ethan’s feet, tail swishing back and forth.
“Good boy,” Ethan praised, picking up the ball and throwing it again. He smiled as he watched Hero chase after it and recalled his night with Kara. It had been good to hang out with her again, even if it was more work related. There was something about her presence that made even the most mundane tasks enjoyable.
His mind shifted to Charlotte, and a chuckle escaped as he remembered her quick wit. She reminded him so much of Kara—the same warmth in her smile, the same determination in her eyes when she set her mind to something. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
Ethan headed inside after a few more throws, Hero trotting close behind. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you something to eat.”
In the kitchen, the sound of kibble hitting the metal bowl filled the air as Ethan prepared Hero’s dinner and refreshed his water. He watched the dog eat, his thoughts returning to Kara and the rescue. There had to be other ways he could help lighten her load.
Wait. I got it.
Ethan hurried down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the faded carpet runner. Entering the bedroom, Hero trotted in after him, his collar jingling with each step.
“Keeping me company?” Ethan smiled, reaching down to give Hero a quick scratch behind the ears.
He cleared off the weathered oak desk, dumping the haphazard piles of books and overstuffed folders onto the twin bed. Sitting in the swivel chair, he opened the center drawer and pulled out a notebook and a pen. As he did, he felt Hero’s warm presence against his leg, the dog having inched closer to rest his head on Ethan’s foot.
For the next few hours, Ethan scribbled furiously, his pen flying across the paper, jotting down ideas from his time at the Virginia rescue, the scratching sound filling the quiet room. Every now and then, Ethan paused, twirling the pen between his fingers as he thought. Some things he had written down were strategies that had worked well, others were plans they’d never had the chance to implement. But he wasn’t sure if Kara had tried any of these before, and it couldn’t hurt to share them with her.
He reached down, giving Hero a gentle pat.
“What do you think, boy?” Ethan asked. “Think Kara will like these ideas?”
Hero responded with a soft woof and a thump of his tail against the floor, which Ethan chose to interpret as a yes.
The fading afternoon light caught Ethan’s attention. His phone screen glowed: 6:25 p.m.
“Shoot, I need to get ready,” he muttered, scrambling to his feet. As he did, a thought crossed his mind.
Is this ... a date?
The word date hung in his mind. Ethan shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the thought.
“It’s not. I mean, we’re ...” Ethan trailed off, shaking his head. “Catching up, that’s all.”
But even as he tried to convince himself, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Date or not, Ethan couldn’t deny the flutter in his chest at the thought of seeing Kara again.
With that warmth still lingering in his chest, Ethan moved to his bag, rummaging through his clothes. “Just hanging out,” he repeated to himself, even as he bypassed his usual t-shirts in favor of something nicer.
After a moment of deliberation, he pulled out a crisp, light blue button-down shirt, the faint scent of laundry detergent still clinging to the fabric, and a pair of dark wash jeans with a slight fade at the knees. He held the shirt up against himself, examining his reflection in the mirror.
“Rate my outfit, Hero,” Ethan said, turning to the dog who had made himself comfortable on the twin bed, sprawled out among the books and folders Ethan had dumped there.
Hero’s tail thumped against a stack of papers, scattering a few to the floor.
“Solid eight, huh? What do I have to do to get a ten?” Ethan chuckled, striking a mock pose.
Hero tilted his head, letting out a soft whine.
“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look. This is my best shirt. Well, the best option I have tonight. Isn’t that a factor?”
The dog responded by rolling onto his back, paws in the air, tongue lolling out.
“All right, all right.” Ethan laughed, reaching over to rub Hero’s belly. “I get it. The outfit’s fine, but it’s my personality that matters more, right?”
Hero’s tail wagged furiously in response.
“You’re a good wingman, you know that?” Ethan said, giving Hero one last pat before turning back to the mirror.
As he buttoned up the shirt, smoothing out the collar, Ethan caught sight of his reflection. He grimaced, running a hand through his unruly hair. It had grown longer than usual, and now it seemed intent on sticking up in all directions.
Ethan grabbed a comb from the dresser, its teeth catching as he attempted to tame his unruly hair into some semblance of order. After a few minutes, he got it looking reasonably presentable.
“Not bad,” he said, angling his head to check his handiwork from different sides.
As he reached inside the bag for his belt, his hand brushed against something unexpected, and he retrieved a small bottle of cologne he’d forgotten he’d packed. It had been ages since he’d worn any, but something made him pause.
When he turned the bottle over, a faint smile curved his lips as he recognized the familiar label—the same brand he’d started using back in high school.
With a shrug, he dabbed a bit on his neck and wrists. Ethan closed his eyes, the scent pulling him back to the very first time he’d ever worn that cologne ...
“Why do you smell so good?” Kara asked, gliding by Ethan with the mop.
Ethan slid a box of supplies onto the shelf, grinning. “Just something new I’m trying out.” He stretched his back, brushing his hands on his khakis before turning to face her. “Want me to finish mopping?”
Kara raised an eyebrow. “You, offering to mop? Now that’s new.” She shook her head with a smile. “I’m nearly done. Did you remember to take out the trash?”
“Already done.”
Kara propped the mop against the wall with a soft clunk and slipped a hair tie off her wrist. “Is it just me, or is it stuffy in here?” She fanned her face with one hand. “Dad needs to stop cutting off the AC when we close. We’re still working for like an hour after that.”
As she gathered her chestnut hair into a messy bun, Ethan couldn’t look away from her effortless grace. Even in her simple Walker’s Pharmacy uniform—an oversized t-shirt, wrinkled khakis, and scuffed sneakers—she radiated a beauty that took his breath away.
The air between them crackled with electricity. His pulse quickened, each beat echoing in his ears as he took a single, tentative step toward her.
The moment stretched out between them. Ethan knew some silences spoke louder than words, and this one was screaming everything his heart had been trying to say that entire summer.
“Missed one,” he said, his fingers gently brushing her cheek as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
Kara’s eyes, warm pools of amber flecked with gold, locked onto his gaze, a mixture of amusement and desire dancing in their depths. “Was that really about my hair,” she whispered, “or did you just want an excuse to get closer?”
Ethan’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Should I back off?”
Kara’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Don’t you dare,” she murmured, tilting her chin upward. “Kiss me.”
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Hero’s ears shot up, and he bolted toward the front door.
“Hold on, boy,” Ethan called out, setting down the cologne and following Hero to the entryway.
Ethan glanced at his phone as he approached the door.
At 6:30?
Curious, he peered through the window. A stocky man in a stained uniform stood on the porch, and behind him, a white van with Locksmith emblazoned on its side was parked in the cracked driveway.
Ethan opened the door, his other hand on Hero’s collar to keep him from rushing out.
“Locksmith service. You called about a safe?” the man asked, gesturing with his toolbox.
“Yeah, that’s right. Come on in,” Ethan said, stepping aside to let the locksmith enter.
“Sorry for the delay. Got caught up with some emergency calls earlier.”
“No problem.” Ethan said. “It was my dad’s. He passed away and I can’t find the key.”
“Alright, lead the way,” the locksmith replied, picking up his toolbox.
Ethan led the locksmith to his dad’s bedroom. As they entered, he pointed to the oak dresser against the far wall. “There it is.”
The locksmith approached, toolbox clinking as he set it on the floor. He ran his hand over the safe’s surface, studying it closely before letting out a low whistle. “This is an older model, all right. Maybe thirty years old? Don’t let that fool you, though. These things were built to last—and to keep people out.”
Great.
Ethan nodded, retreating to give him space. He sat down on the bed and watched as the locksmith pulled out a couple of different tools.
“I’ll start with the drill,” the locksmith explained. “Fair warning—it might scratch up the safe a bit. That okay with you?”
Ethan shrugged. “Go for it. I don’t care about the safe—it’s what’s inside that matters.”
What I hope’s inside.
Ethan held his breath as the sound of the drill on the keyhole reverberated around the room. His foot tapped and his stomach tightened while the locksmith struggled.
Come on, come on. Open already!
The locksmith frowned, setting the drill aside. “Tough one. Didn’t even scratch it. Let’s try something else.”
Ethan watched, nerves fraying like an old rope, as the locksmith delicately maneuvered the tool inside the keyhole. The man’s forehead creased, beads of sweat forming at his temples.
Ethan checked his phone again: 6:45 p.m.
In his mind, he could already hear Kara’s voice. “Running late again, Ethan?” He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper, racking his brain for an excuse that would sound better than the one he had given earlier.
Please hurry for the love of—
“No luck. Not with any of the tools I got, anyway,” the locksmith said, wiping his brow.
Ethan’s shoulders sagged. “Now what?”
“I’ll need to order some specialized equipment. Could take a couple weeks to arrive, though.”
“Fine, do it. Just as soon as possible, please.”
“You got it. I’ll call you as soon as they’re in,” the locksmith assured him, packing up his tools.
Ethan barely heard him, already rushing him out the door, glancing at his phone: 6:48 p.m.
Can’t be late.
He rushed to slip on his shoes, then darted to the kitchen and grabbed the pill bottle off the counter, frowning.
Only one left after this.
Ethan pulled out his phone and fired off a quick email to his psychiatrist’s office:
Dr. Hartman,
Where did you send my new prescription? Didn’t get an update. I’m down to my last pill.
Thanks,
Ethan
He swallowed the pill with a gulp of water, then patted his pockets.
Wallet. Where’s my wallet?
Ethan spun around, scanning the counters. There it was, right next to where the pill bottle had been. He snatched it up, shoving it into his back pocket.
“Hero! Gotta run. I’ll be back later, buddy!” he called out.
Hero trotted over and Ethan kneeled quickly, giving him a quick kiss on the head. “Be a good boy, okay?”
Just as Ethan reached the front door, he halted.
The notebook.
Spinning on his heel for what he hoped was the final time, he rushed back to his bedroom, grabbed the notebook from the bed, and tucked it under his arm. With one last glance at his phone—6:52 p.m.—Ethan dashed out the door, praying he’d make it to Kara’s on time.