Page 43 of The Embrace of Evergreen
I fly across the room, scrambling to my knees at his side so quickly that the sound of them slamming onto the concrete floor echoes through the gallery.
“Ethan.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Ethan.” As I lean over his prone body and snatch his hand up in mine, the two men shift out of my way without hesitation.
“What in the fuck happened? What is going on? Is he okay? Has someone called nine-one-one?” I can barely contain my fear and rage as I search their faces.
“Ethan…this is Ethan then?” the larger of the two, the one who looks almost like a lumberjack, questions as his brows furrow in concentration.
“Ethan…Johnson?” The pale man with the raven-black hair snaps his eyes from mine to the lumberjack. Somehow, they seem familiar to me, but I don’t really give a shit why until someone explains why my Ethan is lying unresponsive on the gallery floor.
“Oh my god. It really is Ken’s son,” the raven-haired man whispers, sounding almost awed. “I knew helooked familiar, but…oh my god, how did I not realize when I first saw him? I’ve stared at his pictures on the mantle my whole life.”
He glances down at Ethan once more as I tighten my hands around his fingers, my knuckles almost white with the strain. Clearly, they seem to know him, but I don’t care how or why. All I care about is the fact that Ethan is lying here on the floor, and I don’t know how to help him.
“Oh my god. Jayce, when he saw you, he felt…” The raven-haired man trails off and shakes his head as he stares at the lumberjack by his side. His voice is trembling, and his eyes are glistening as if he’s fighting back tears.
I don’t understand what’s happening. Why does no one seem concerned that my Ethan is lying here unconscious? He might have had a heart attack or a stroke, and why is no one on the phone calling an ambulance right now?
“Love. He felt love.” A tear makes its way down the man’s beautiful pale cheek as he continues talking, still somehow unaware or unconcerned that the man he’s talking about isstillunresponsive as I repeat his name and squeeze his hand and kiss his cheeks and forehead and shake his shoulder.
“Jayce…” The man trails off for a moment, and why, for the love of God, aren’t they paying more attention to Ethan? “Ethan Johnson, E.J. Oh my god, Jayce. He thought you were Jordyn.”
The lumberjack pales almost to the color of his companion, and his neck nearly snaps as his gaze shifts back to Ethan on the cold cement floor.
“Oh my god.”
“Enough.” My scream resonates through the room. The sound bouncing off steel and concrete sounds almost as frantic as I feel. “What is going on? Has someone called nine-one-one?”
The pale man glances at the lumberjack briefly as his fingers reach out to rest over mine and Ethan’s, and for a moment, his expression shifts to one of surprise before it softens once more.
“He’s okay. He just passed out from shock or surprise. Ethan knew Jayce,” he tilts his head to indicate the lumberjack, “and his brother when they were younger. They grew up together. He just hasn’t seen him in a really long time. He’ll come back around quickly. Jayce caught him as he was falling, so he didn’t hit his head or anything.”
I glance at Max, whose gaze jumps between the men briefly before coming back to rest on me. There is still concern in her eyes, but it’s not the wild, anxious thing it was a moment ago.
Only as my panic that Ethan might be lying here dying in my arms starts to slowly recede do their words register enough for me to realize what the raven-haired man meant. Ethan thought the lumberjack was Jordyn. The love of his life. Overwhelming nausea rolls through me, and I curl my body further around Ethan. I clutch his hand even tighter and press trembling lips to his forehead as reality comes crashing down around me with the realization that if Jordyn’s brother is here, he might be too. Even if he’s not, running into his brother is likely to open up some line of communication with their family. I know that Ethan loves me. He hasn’t said the words, but I know that he does. The way he looks at me and touches me. The way he laughs and smiles when we’re together. I know it’s real; it has to be. I wouldn’t have let myself fall in love with him if he didn’t love me back. I wouldn’t have set myself up to be hurt again, to be hurt so much worse than just a few broken ribs and busted-up lips. Ethan has to love me - he has to. For once in my whole goddamn life, I have to be enough.
The room spins as I fight the tears that burn the back of my eyes, and I slowly start to comprehend that it doesn’t matter if he loves me now. Ethan has loved Jordyn his entire life. Even before he knew he wanted him romantically, he loved him as a friend. He said they knew one another as little kids. I can’t compete with that. I’ve known Ethan for half a year. I’ve gotten to call him mine for barely three months. There is no way I can compete with someone he’s loved for thirty years. If Jordyn comes back into his life, not as a scared teen, but as a grown man who’s strong enough to want arelationship with Ethan now, I’ll lose him to his past. All of the days and weeks and moments I waited and hoped beyond hope that one day, maybe one day, Ethan could learn to love me back. All of the pain and hurt and fear that I pushed aside to let him into my heart. It won’t matter. I won’t have any choice but to let him go.
Ethan’s fingers tightening around mine pulls my attention back to the fact the man I love is lying on the floor at my side. His eyelids flutter, bright emerald blinking into view, filled with confusion and worry.
“It’s okay, darlin’. You’re okay.”
Ethan nods slightly, but his eyes don’t search for mine. He looks past me. The hand I’m not holding in mine reaches out. It reaches past me. He reaches for Jayce.
Ethan
My fingertips trace along a jaw I never thought I’d see again, never thought I’d touch again. My gaze follows as they trail up along cheekbones that are as familiar as my own and yet somehow seem to belong to a stranger. Fourteen years is a long time. The green eyes looking back at me don’t look happy to see me after all this time. They look confused and concerned. They look sad. There is a scar that cuts through one of the dark eyebrows above those eyes. I know that scar. I was there when he got that scar.
Jayce. The scar belongs to Jayce.
My gaze shifts to Blue. He’s kneeling over me, storm-grey eyes glassy as he searches my face and whispers that everything is okay. His hand is crushing mine in his concern, and I let my other hand drop away from Jayce to wrap around Blue’s forearm.
“Told you I shouldn’t carry your work. I could just pass out at any time.”
He chokes out a strangled laugh, and tears leak from the corners of his eyes as he leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You scared me to death.”
