Thick & Thin (Thin Love, #3)(10)
“I wasn’t always like this,” he’d said, leaning against his door. “But Aly, I don’t waste a single second.”
It had been the wreck that took their parents when he and Steph were twenty, the devastation it left behind, how Ethan had spent a year in a rehab facility learning to walk again—it made him spontaneous, wild, frantic for what he wanted instantaneously.
“One minute we’re driving up the mountains in Gatlinburg laughing with our folks, talking about dinner and the white water rafting tour we’d take the next day. It was all so…normal. There was absolutely no difference in the moments before Dad took that curve too fast and the ones we had our entire lives. Just like that,” he’d snapped his fingers, making me jump in the dead silence of his car, “they were gone. Just. Gone.”
Time was too precious and neither Ethan or Steph were willing to waste any of it.
That meant a proposal that came quickly. Too quickly. It meant I’d have to face the warring doubts in my mind—the ones that told me how foolish I’d been to say yes and how desperate I was to put my life with Ransom behind me—long before I was ready to even think of how drastically my life was going to change.
Ethan squeezed my fingers, relaxing me with a quick wink. “Aly will text you once we know more, sis.” He threw his napkin on the table and leaned over to kiss Steph before she could argue, hurrying in his goodbye, I guessed to keep his sister from pressing the issue. “Until then, try to maintain your calm.”
Ethan dismissed her protests with several large bills on the table before he led me through the restaurant with his hand on my back. It felt warm, comforting and despite being flustered I have to admit that I enjoyed it. Any woman with a pulse and half decent taste in men would be crazy about him. He was tall, just over six feet, built like a runner, not large and massive like I was used to but lithe, fit, limbs that were long, corded and a waist that was trim. He wore the hell out of a suit and walked through a room like it was made for him alone.
Ethan was attractive, successful and intelligent. So why the hell wasn’t I absolutely stupid for him?
“You still tired?” He was just behind me, pulling my thin sweater over my shoulders and I caught that sweet scent from his skin again. “You sure that’s all it is?”
He stood so close that when I glanced up at him, his stubble brushed against my cheek.
Ethan’s mouth was relaxed, nearly turned up on one side like he thought of smiling, but wanted to know what I was thinking before he did. This was nothing like Ransom. He’d know with one look my way that I was tired or scared or completely turned on. He read me better than anyone.
Those eyes, black and brilliant, searing into my skin like a burn—only Ransom would know my thoughts. Only he would challenge me enough so that I wasn’t sure of my decision. Of what I wanted and with who.
My lips still stung faintly from Ransom’s kiss and if he were here, I’d have more presence of mind to smack him for his presumption, something I imagined doing as I licked my bottom lip. But Ransom wasn’t here. Or at least he wouldn’t be tomorrow. He was probably on a plane already, heading back to Miami.
“You look worn out.” Ethan turned my shoulders so that my back bumped against the lobby wall as we waited for the valet. He wasn’t wrong, but the weariness in my bones went deeper than exhaustion. It was fear and worry and all the thoughts I wanted to keep to myself. The burdens I didn’t want anyone else to carry for me.
“Recitals always take it out of me.” He stepped in closer and I distracted myself with his tie, straightening the knot and tucking it back inside of his jacket. “I’ll probably sleep all day tomorrow.”
He wouldn’t keep his gaze from my features, soaking up each expression with some unspoken need to see if he could ferret out my thoughts just by watching me. I let him go on, imagining that soon enough he’d know me. He’d be able to see my anger, my worry, all the things I didn’t seem capable of letting him see just yet.
“That’s not all, is it?” Two fingertips down my temple, along my cheek and then Ethan tilted my head up at the chin.
“What do you…”
He moved his thumb over my bottom lip, effectively silencing me as though he guessed another excuse was headed his way. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”
“Wi. Once or twice.” It was a stupid understatement. Ethan’s complements bordered on ridiculous. So much so that I’d stopped believing he meant them.
“No. That’s not what I mean.” He settled closer, moving his hand to my neck, as though the sparse inches between us was too much. I found it a little hard to breathe. “First time I saw you, you were covered in sweat, wearing that non-existent green leotard, barely able to keep your breath even as I fussed about the noise coming from your studio.”
The memory made me smile and I rested my hand against his chest, relaxing. “I remember.”
The air around us warmed and when Ethan’s gaze moved from my forehead, his fingers tracing around my features, gaze following, my breathing became clearer. He seemed to like the way I let him hold me, how the tightness in my limbs disappeared. “You were so mad at me for disturbing you.”
“You got the building manager to open my locked door at midnight.”
“I was working on a case.” He’d looked ridiculous—hair all tousled, tie missing, baby blue button up wrinkled and untucked. Despite my irritation, it was that scruffy, adorable vibe he gave off that eased some of my anger.