22. Ethan
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ethan
I'm not a man easily overwhelmed by noise.
Air traffic, boardrooms, investor calls, a malfunctioning system under pressure… these are all environments that function on a certain level of intensity.
This morning, however, I find myself in the kitchen at eight a.m. observing Luci Clarke operate at a frequency that suggests either exceptional energy levels or a complete disregard for volume control.
Possibly both.
“And then, no, listen, if you put snacks in the cockpit, you solve at least fifty percent of emotional instability mid-flight. I’m telling you, this is a business opportunity.”
Oliver, seated at the island with cereal, nods as though she’s presenting a viable industry shift. “That’s what I said.”
“Exactly,” Luci says, pointing at him excitedly. “Visionary.”
Captain is beneath her chair, receiving what appears to be unauthorized pieces of toast.
Addy is standing at the counter, one hand wrapped around a glass of water, watching the scene with the expression of someone who's both accustomed to this and faintly exhausted by it.
The energy is different. Louder, warmer, slightly unstructured in a way that should be irritating. But it isn’t.
“Good morning,” I say.
Addy glances up first. “Morning.”
There’s a brief pause.
It’s still there, that line we drew, holding for now.
Luci turns immediately. “Ethan. Hi. You survived the night.”
“I did.”
I move toward the counter, reaching for coffee. Addy shifts slightly to give me space, and we’re standing close enough that I’m aware of the exact distance between us again.
“Coffee?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She hands it to me without looking directly at me.
“Plans for today?” I ask.
Oliver looks up immediately. “Park.”
“That wasn’t a question,” I say.
“It is now.”
Luci leans forward. “We should go. I want to see Chicago properly. And by properly, I mean with snacks.”
“That isn't a requirement for walking.”
“It is for me.”
I consider it.
The morning is clear, and the city is manageable at this hour. Oliver would benefit from the space, Captain from the movement, and, if I’m being honest, removing Luci’s energy from the apartment may preserve structural integrity.
“Fine,” I say. “We’ll walk.”
Oliver beams.
Luci claps once. “Perfect. I love a field trip.”
Addy exhales softly. “This is going to be insane.”
“Structured pandemonium,” I correct.
She gives me a look. “That isn't the same thing.”
“No,” I say. “But it’s close enough.”
Millennium Park in the morning operates on a different frequency than the rest of the city.
The skyline still frames everything, but the edges are softer, the movement less aggressive. People exist here without urgency for a few hours before the day pulls them back into it.
Oliver runs ahead immediately, Captain beside him, both of them moving with the kind of unfiltered enthusiasm that makes control unnecessary, with Addy holding the leash, being dragged along at a rapid pace.
I fall into step beside Luci.
She studies the space briefly, then the buildings beyond it, then me. “So, Pilot Strong, what’s your deal?”
I glance at her. “My deal?”
“Yes. Your whole… situation.” She gestures vaguely in the direction of the apartment, the skyline, the concept of me as a person. “You’re rich, you’re intimidating, you have a kid, a dog, and a tragic backstory. I need context.”
“There’s no context.”
She nods to herself as if that confirms something. “Mm. Yeah. That tracks.”
We walk a little further.
Ahead of us, Addy laughs at Oliver who’s saying something that clearly makes no sense and perfect sense at the same time.
Luci watches them. Then looks back at me. “So what’s your deal with her?”
I swallow discreetly. “She works for me.”
She snorts. “Oh, we’re doing that version of reality? Fun.”
“It’s the accurate version.”
“Sure,” she says easily. “And the Titanic just had a minor scheduling issue.”
I don’t respond.
“You like her.”
Direct. Unembarrassed. Luci weaponizes honesty the same way Addy uses humor, casually and with alarming precision.
I keep my attention on the path ahead. “That’s not relevant.”
“That’s not a no.”
Normally, this is where I would end the conversation entirely.
The only reason I don’t is because she’s Addy’s sister, and because, despite the interrogation tactics, there’s nothing malicious in her curiosity. Just protectiveness sharpened into blunt force.
She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets. “She likes you too, you know.”
I look at her. “That’s not helpful.”
“It’s extremely helpful,” she says. “You’re just choosing not to use the information.”
“That’s not how I operate.”
“No,” she agrees. “You overthink everything until it becomes emotionally constipated.”
I stop walking.
She stops too, turns to face me. She’s been waiting for that.
“Wow,” she says. “That really hit something.”
I exhale slowly. “This is inappropriate.”
“Which part?” she asks. “The part where you’re clearly into each other, or the part where you’re pretending you’re not?”
“She works for me.”
“You slept with her.”
I should’ve anticipated that Addy’s sister would possess absolutely no respect for privacy.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. “That’s not relevant.”
Luci laughs immediately. “Oh, wow. You’re in deep.”
“You ask extremely invasive questions.”
Luci smiles brightly. “Thank you.”
I stare at her, genuinely reconsidering whether continuing this walk was a mistake. “I’m not in deep.”
She tilts her head. “You say that like it’s going to become true.” She watches me for another beat. “So what’s the thing you actually care about? What makes you have that look on your face?”
I narrow my eyes. “There’s no look, and it’s certainly not related to anyone. It’s more…” I scramble for the first thing I can think of that changes the subject. “The stupid work gala coming up.”
She nods. “You hate it?”
“Yes. I hate going alone. But I still go, even without Megan.”
“If you don’t like it, don’t go.”
I ignore how easy she makes that sound. “I have to.”
“Why?”
“It matters.”
“That’s not a real answer.”
“It’s the only one that’s relevant.”
She studies me again. “If you don’t like going alone, take a date.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t bring people to events like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it invites speculation.”
She shrugs. “People already speculate.”
“I don’t encourage it.”
“You existing encourages it,” she says. “You’re a rich widower with a tragic backstory. That’s basically a Netflix category.”
I almost smile.
She catches it.
“There it is,” she says. “You can be human.”
“I was under the impression I already was.”
“Debatable.”
Ahead of us, Addy slows to crouch beside Oliver while Captain circles them both impatiently. Sunlight catches in her hair as she laughs at something Oliver says, and for one dangerous second, the scene looks less temporary than it should.
Luci notices exactly where my attention’s gone. “Just ask her.”
“No,” I say immediately.
Too quickly.
Her brows lift.
I force my tone back under control. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I don’t answer.
She raises a brow. “Because she’ll say no, or because you don’t want her to?”
That… I don’t enjoy. “She works for me.”
“That’s your favorite sentence, huh?”
“It’s a relevant one.”
“It’s a shield,” she corrects.
Silence.
She steps back. “Just think about it.”
Then she turns, jogging ahead to catch up with Addy and Oliver, as if the conversation never happened.