Logan must see the question in my eyes. “Allison wants us to pay back the two-hundred-thousand-dollar investment her parents made on the ranch.”
“Okay.” I guess that happens when people get divorced, right? They split up assets?
“In one lump sum.”
“Damn.” Yeah, that sucks.
“But it gets worse. She claims it’s so she can be financially stable enough to petition the court for part-time custody of the kids, which”—he lowers his voice—“we all know is bullshit because she can barely handle them four days a month. Our attorney didn’t want to challenge her on that rationale because doing so might make us look bad in the eyes of the judge. He said that since Allison already agreed to let Ethan have the kids for the time being, there’s no point stirring that pot.”
Logan explains how Ethan provided spousal support for the last year as payment on that investment from her parents in a show of good faith. He didn’t technically owe her alimony because they hadn’t been married ten years, which is one of the requirements for spousal support in Texas. “But Ethan being Ethan, he wanted to help her out because he’s a good guy.” Logan groans and shoves his hands through his hair. “We have three weeks before we have to go back to court and settle this.”
Ethan seems lost in thought. “It was the right thing to do. She’s the mother of my children. I couldn’t let her starve. It’s not like Allison had the chance to build any kind of career while she was living here.” He gets up suddenly, his chair scraping across the floor. “I know her family has money, but it’s not her money.”
Fists tight, shoulders rigid, he shakes his head, stalking around the kitchen before reaching for a beer in the refrigerator and slamming it shut.
All of the glass rattles.
Whoa.I’m not expecting his fierce tone or the anger radiating off him right now, especially after how Allison spoke to him on Sunday.
With a loud smack to the bottleneck of the beer to the edge of the counter, Ethan pops off the metal lid, which rolls around on the floor.
Although the bartender in me is impressed, the haunted expression that flashes on his face before he gazes out the kitchen window tugs at my heart.
I clear my throat. “Do you, uh, do you guys need some privacy? I can head to my sister’s house if you want.”
Logan glances at his brother, who takes a long pull before shaking his head.
“It’s fine, Tori. You don’t have to go.” Ethan sits across the table with a beleaguered sigh.
You don’t have to go.
NotI want you to stay.
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 and clear.
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 in me.
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 near that.
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 to me.
I turn to find him a step away.
After a quick glance around the room, I realize we’re alone.
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, muscled skin.
“You clean up well,” I whisper, needing to break the silence.
“Come here.”
It’s two simple words, but a sentiment I needed to hear badly.
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 let out.
“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 and amazing.”
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 for him.
