Chapter 25 #2
“It’s not like that,” she said, blinking rapidly at his words.
“I know it sounds like I’m just expecting you to jump in, but I’m not.
I just…I thought because it’s your family’s cottage—because you loved it once, too—that maybe you’d want to help bring it back to life.
” She shook her head, eyes welling. He felt like a heel, deep down, but the anger and the hurt were too close to the surface for him to check himself.
“I didn’t want to bring it up like this, but I felt bad that they told me about it first. I know things aren’t…
perfect between you three. But you are their son.
I know this is just their way of getting you to… be a part of it. You know?”
He couldn’t hear the hope in her voice. Couldn’t listen for another second.
Ethan pushed himself away from the door, crossing to the window in a few short strides. He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
“And if I don’t?”
“Don’t…what?”
“Don’t want to be a part of it,” he responded flatly.
She took a deep breath. For a while, she didn’t speak. And then: “I would do it myself, then. But I think they were hoping—I was hoping—it wouldn’t have to be just me.”
His mind was racing at a speed he could barely even keep up with.
Where had she gotten the money? Even if his parents were giving it to her for practically nothing, there were still taxes, insurance, endless repairs—how was she going to afford that?
The cottage needed more than a fresh coat of paint; that much he knew, even if it had been years since he had seen it—it needed a full resurrection.
And if she couldn’t afford to do it on her own, what then?
He knew Julia—she would throw herself into it until there was nothing left of her.
And he would be the one watching, standing by while she poured every last ounce of herself into something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.
The room went still except for the faint hum of the city outside. He stared out into the night, shoulders tight, feeling the quiet apartment shrink around them, the weight of old promises settling between them like dust.
Before he could fully grasp what he was doing, he was in front of her, his steps eating the ground, his hand coming up to cup her cheek almost of its own volition.
He wanted to—what? Strangle her? Silence her?
Whatever his animalistic intent was, his fingers veered off course and slid across her smooth skin, his thumb resting on the corner of her lips, his fingertips in her hair.
Her breath caught and she looked up at him, eyes the color of storm clouds over the horizon.
“Ethan.” Her lips formed the words, but no sound came out, and before he could react, her arms were around his neck and she was kissing him, all soft lips and small breasts pushed against him, her body notching into his larger one perfectly.
Instinctually, he caught her, turned his head slightly, and kissed her back, mouth opening to soften and deepen the kiss even further, his hands bunching around her oversized sweater and skimming down low, lower, almost to her—
What the fuck am I doing?
Alarm bells started blaring in his head, loud, incessant.
She was going to take this as acquiescence, an indication that he was all in with her on this. The kiss had given her the impression he was signing a contract, promising her everything she wanted from him and more. But no—it had been a moment of weakness. He couldn’t let her think otherwise.
“Julia—”
She didn’t even register that he used her full name, pulling back with a soft, dreamy smile, her eyes lit up from the inside.
“Oh, Ethan,” she breathed, “this is going to be amazing. And we don’t even need to worry about the money, because—”
They could literally never come back from this.
“No, Julia.” He didn’t even clock what she was saying, couldn’t let her finish.
He pulled away abruptly, harshly, forcefully putting distance between them by grabbing her and moving her away from him, his arms stretched out as far as they could go, before taking a few steps back, almost stumbling in his haste. “You don’t understand.”
She looked dazed, bewildered, with the burgeoning aura of hurt forming around her.
“Ethan, what…?”
“I can’t do it. Don’t you get it?” He no longer recognized himself, the self-pitying monster who was looming and about to speak, the words he had no more control over than the breath from his lungs.
“You’ve been playing house with my family history for long enough, and now you’re turning our cottage into your own personal project and trying to drag me along for the ride.
I’m not your fixer or your custodian, and I’m sure as hell not going to be your safety net when this all falls apart. ”
She flinched, but he pressed on, a bitter edge to his voice.
“You want the cottage? Fine. Have it. But don’t you dare pretend this was ever about us.
It’s about you and the fact that you’ve always wanted to be the girl who saves everything—like if you could just hold on tight enough, nothing else would slip away.
” His voice dropped. “Or no one else would leave.”
Her breath caught and her face drained of color, picking up on his implication.
It was cruel and it was nasty, but he was too hurt and mad—not even at her, though she got the brunt of it this time.
Mostly at his parents for not trusting him with this role or even this information.
But also at a world that had allowed him to coast, that hadn’t questioned his place in all of it, because it had been too easy for him: good-looking, average student, athletic.
He hadn’t had to work for anything, even when he’d wanted to, so no one expected him to do the work and he went unnoticed, even when he tried.
And then others got the opportunities to prove themselves that he would never have. It hurt.
So he had to hurt.
“I think you should leave.” Her words were strangled; she could barely get them out. “Now.”
“Gem.” The regret was starting to settle in now, though the fury and the disbelief at the circumstances remained. His head was spinning.
Where did they go from here?
“No.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.
“Deeply fuck off. And just so you know, I’m taking your parents up on their offer.
And I don’t need you or your money, since I just got a pretty inheritance from my dead mom”—he flinched at the jarring news—“nor do I need your stubborn, pompous, useless ass fucking things up, either.” She sniffed, looking away.
“Maybe you’ll find the time to visit in the next five years.
You know, since you haven’t in the last five. ”
Shots fired.
He snapped back before he could stop himself: “Good luck role-playing perfect innkeeper daughter in a place you’ll never really belong. Just don’t expect me to come running when it all falls apart.”
Her eyes blazed with fury and unshed tears. “Get. The fuck. Out.”
He hesitated for a second, the air between them crackling with everything they had just thrown at each other. Then he turned and left, slamming the door behind him with more force than he meant to.
He left the building in a daze, stepping out into the night, the cold biting at his skin. In his head, he told himself they’d figure it out. Once she cooled off, once he had time to breathe. Once the dust settled and the echoes of their—his—cruel words finally faded.
They would figure it out.
They had to.
Eventually.