I clear my throat. “Do you, uh, do you guys need some privacy? I can head to my sister’s house if youwant.”
Logan glances at his brother, who takes a long pull before shaking hishead.
“It’s fine, Tori. You don’t have to go.” Ethan sits across the table with a beleagueredsigh.
You don’t have togo.
NotI want you tostay.
For the next few minutes, I analyze those words. Arrange them in my head, pull them apart, and rearrange them, but no matter how I look at what he just said, his apathy came through loud andclear.
I like to think I’m not the kind of girl to make a mountain out of a mole hill, but a part of me wonders if Ethan and I are over. If whatever toll today took on him smothered his interest inme.
The guys talk quietly and debate their finances and how they’re going to repay Allison, while I sit and stare at the tiny scratches on the kitchen table. Internally, I chide myself over the sadness welling up in me. I get this is just a crush, that there’s no way what’s going on with Ethan could be more at this point, but I was so ready to welcome more, and he’s likely nowhere nearthat.
With a deep breath, I steel myself and return to the stew bubbling on the stove. I’m so in my head, I don’t notice the guys have gotten up until Ethan’s voice, low and gruff, calls tome.
I turn to find him a stepaway.
After a quick glance around the room, I realize we’realone.
I take in his loosened tie and how his broad shoulders fill in his button-down shirt. Since he got home, he’s taken off his suit jacket, and now his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, revealing tanned forearms and smooth, muscledskin.
“You clean up well,” I whisper, needing to break thesilence.
“Comehere.”
It’s two simple words, but a sentiment I needed to hearbadly.
I’m in his arms a second later, closing my eyes and breathing in his clean scent as he presses a kiss to my forehead. The relief in my chest is palpable, like the air in a balloon being letout.
“Sorry I was an asshole,” he says into my hair. “I don’t mean to take this out on you. You’ve been nothing but sweet andamazing.”
Blinking back furiously against the heat stinging my eyes, I take a steadying breath because I don’t want to cry on his shoulder. He’s the one who’s had a hellish day, and I want to be strong forhim.
He feels so good in my arms. Sturdy andwarm.
I have no idea when this man dug through the defenses I spent the last year building, but he’s burrowed into me now, and I suspect nothing short of open-heart surgery can remove him. Foolish though it may be to have such intense emotions for someone I met this summer, I can’t bring myself to shut himout.
Once my tears are on lockdown, I pull back so I can look at his handsome face. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I wish I could take away the pain.” Reflexively, I place my hand on his chest, like my touch can somehow heal him. Because it has to suck to go through a divorce. Because as much as I adore Ethan and hope that he can be mine someday, I hate that Allison must’ve broken hisheart.
Before he can say anything, I move my hand to caress his stubbled jaw. I know he said he needs time to deal with his divorce, but I can’t help but touch him. “Do you need some ice creamtherapy?”
He cracks a smile and nestles me back against his body. “I need some Toritherapy.”
Best thing I’ve heard allday.
28
Ethan
Imay be dog-tired,but my heart rate kicks up a notch when Tori beams me a beautiful smile as I drop down onto the couch next toher.
Her eyes return to the Astros game, but she reaches over and threads her fingers through mine, and everything in me, every cell and vessel, lightsup.
My life might be in chaos right now as I try to figure out how to repay my ex, but the woman sitting next to me helps me feel tethered to the ground instead of buffeted by the financial shitstorm I’mfacing.
It’s been almost two weeks since my divorce was finalized, and though I want nothing more than to be able to focus on what’s brewing between Tori and me, the next court date looms like a dark cloud, one that keeps me up at night long after the house is still andquiet.
