Chapter 19
There had always been a part of Julia that had known what was going to happen before it did, but only when it came to Ethan.
It was the strange way she’d always understood what he was thinking or planning before he acted on it. A type of sixth sense—but mostly useless, because it only worked specifically for Ethan.
It was something about a glint in his eye or the set of his jaw. The way a muscle flexed in his cheek or how he’d roll his shoulders. Maybe a slight smirk, one dimple appearing in the otherwise-smooth tableau of his face.
Ethan plotted.
It was in his nature. He was doggedly determined to manufacture the best outcome for himself and those he cared about, so he was always ten steps ahead in every situation.
Outwardly, no one would know. He was easygoing Ethan, beer in hand, easy smile, a girl perched on the arm of his chair laughing at something she probably didn’t even hear.
But inwardly, Julia knew it was different.
Inwardly, he was trying to make sense of it all—figuring out how to fit the pieces together, how to protect what mattered and keep some small bit of control in a life that never seemed to stop moving.
So when he kissed her, she knew it was going to happen full seconds before it actually did.
It had started with her fall, her knees giving way as she’d tried to stand, forgetting that she usually needed to give herself time before getting up after an episode.
When she’d landed, she’d inconveniently landed in the worst spot imaginable—right in his goddamn lap.
Then, instead of pushing him away or scooting back, getting herself out of the very inconvenient and embarrassing position she’d found herself in, she’d frozen.
Staring into his eyes, icy blue and so familiar, the bronze hue of his hair glinting in even the mediocre light of her bathroom.
Wishing she could run her fingers through it, then cursing herself for even having the thought.
And that was when she’d seen it.
The set of his jaw, the way his pupils had dilated. The quick glance down to her mouth and back up again. And she had known. She had known without a doubt that she was going to experience the feeling of Ethan Duchamp’s lips on hers for the second time in her entire life.
When he kissed her, as she expected him to, it was as if all her senses zeroed in to the point of contact.
All the nerve endings in her lips and mouth fired up at once so that everything she could taste, smell, hear, feel, was him and only him.
There was something so warm about it, so safe, and she helplessly parted her lips to his tongue, feeling him lick and tease lightly, pressing airy kisses against her mouth, tasting her with unhurried intent.
Her nipples tightened, the traitorous bastards, and she settled more heavily into his arms—intentionally or unintentionally, she couldn’t say, but he was drawing her closer, and she was allowing it, breathing him in. Ethan, Ethan, her Ethan…
Except—he wasn’t, was he?
She let out a sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan, coming from the back of her throat, and Ethan responded by deepening the kiss with a matching groan. Resisting the urge to put her arms around him and allow him to continue, she fought with herself internally to put a stop to it.
Ethan must have sensed it, because he pulled back after pressing one last, hard kiss to her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped before she could say anything. “I—” He appeared to make a valiant attempt to gather himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “I didn’t— That was out of line. The kiss,” he clarified, as if maybe she wouldn’t piece it together herself. “I completely forgot, the wine—”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “Whatever tipsiness I felt before passed with…” She didn’t want to mention how he had found her, so instead she said, “I think we should get some rest.” She felt detached from her own body as her sentient self hovered somewhere above, looking down on the two of them sitting on the tile floor below.
Quickly, she slid off of him, legs hitting the cool tile once more.
“We can go down to the lake tomorrow with Noah and Katy.”
Ethan nodded once, clearing his throat gruffly. “That sounds like a good idea.” Heaving a sigh, he looked at Julia again, trying to make eye contact that she staunchly refused to entertain. “Julia…”
She didn’t know what was worse, hearing him call her Julia, the familiar cadence of his voice saying her name in an unfamiliar way, or allowing him to call her Gem, a callback to the way they used to be and the relationship that had existed before. Both felt untenable. Both hurt in different ways.
An overwhelming feeling came over her then, the need to get away. And since they were in her bathroom, adjoining her bedroom, it was he who had to go.
“Ethan.” She looked at him, feeling her face soften a bit. “This has been…a lot. Let’s talk more tomorrow. Okay?”
Whatever he saw in her face must have gotten through to him, because he nodded again, slowly this time, as though sifting through her words carefully. “Okay.”
Standing up, he stretched his long, muscular frame in her cramped bathroom, making it seem ten times smaller than it was. His gaze shifted to Julia, still on the floor, and he paused for a moment before offering her his hand.
She looked at it, considering for a brief moment whether or not she should disregard it, before taking it with a sigh and allowing him to pull her up.
Instead of letting her go immediately, he instead drew her closer, pulling her to him in a brief embrace before letting her go once more.
She’d barely had time to react—one minute she was in a near-crushing clasp against his chest, and the next she was unanchored, swaying in the cooling air of the small room, bereft of the contact she’d had mere seconds before.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” he said gruffly, looking away from her, dark eyebrows furrowed over light eyes. “And we will be talking more tomorrow.”
It didn’t sound like a threat exactly. More a promise.
She nodded, words jamming in her throat.
Giving her a brief, grimly satisfied nod back, he turned and left. She heard him depart her room completely, heard his heavy footsteps going up the creaking stairs.
She unsteadily made her way to her bed and sat on it carefully, feeling her heart pound in a way that had nothing to do with another attack and everything to do with how screwed she currently was.
What now?
* * *
“This is fun!”
The next morning, Maggie led the way out the door toward the rockier, more scenic part of Lake Linden, which she’d dubbed her favorite part.
She was the only person in their group of five who seemed to have the right level of enthusiasm for their outing.
The group’s general lack of excitement was mainly evident when her exclamation was met by a variety of responses, most of them around the level of a grumble.
Julia, for her part, was feeling the outcome of yet another night of restless sleep.
She rarely had a good night after one of her episodes, and the one that had just passed was no exception.
This time, however, it had been compounded by something even more unsettling: the way her mind kept circling back to Ethan.
The taste of his lips, the way his tongue had stroked over hers, light and teasing, then with an intensity that had left her breathless.
In her mind’s eye, they had taken things even further, with her seating herself more fully on his lap, feeling his hardness, his hands wrapped around her so tightly, making their way to her bottom, to lift and grind her against him.
The traitorous thoughts continued well into the night, as much as she’d tried to distract herself, to think of something—anything—else.
Instead, she’d tossed and turned, seeing every hour on the clock before finally rising at around five to do what she did best—make dough.
Maggie had arrived around seven, and seeing another twenty-four cinnamon buns on their second rise and ready to bake, she had simply shaken her head and sighed heavily, looking at Julia with sympathy etched all over her face.
“Another rough night?” she’d asked, to which Julia had just nodded. There was no point in going into the details of her evening, certainly not about Ethan, and not even about the circumstances that had led her to that point, so a silent agreement would have to suffice.
Maggie never pried, although there had been a time when she’d caught Julia in a poorly concealed attack.
She had never said anything afterward even though she’d talked her through it in a way similar to how Ethan had, rubbing her back and tethering her to reality in a way that Julia would be eternally grateful for, but it had changed things slightly between them.
Not negatively, just maybe enough to shift the balance slightly between the two of them. Julia felt as if perhaps it had softened her a bit in Maggie’s eyes.
She’d always wished she could be warm and friendly, kind and outgoing, like Maggie was, but sometimes her nature only allowed for gruffness, coldness.
It was never her intent to come across that way, but it felt as though she carried the burden of introversion, and her awkwardness and shyness didn’t quite know how to properly convey warmth.
Made her unsure of how to act in a way that was endearing to others rather than off-putting.
Although Maggie catching her in such a vulnerable moment had exposed her in a way that was humiliating, it had also felt somewhat freeing, because she had shed the mask, even if inadvertently.
And Maggie had accepted it. Had appreciated it. And it had only brought them closer.
It made Julia think about what had happened with Ethan yesterday and what the outcome of that similar situation would be for them.
At the thought of him, she glanced over.