Page 77 of Ethan

“Everything alright, boss?”

“Fine.” He latched the stall behind him. “If you’re done for the day, Rowdy, head in. It’s late.”

Rowdy looked at him for a moment, then nodded and disappeared.

Ethan walked out of the barn and stood in the yard. The dusk to dawn light just coming on. He could see the light on in her apartment window from here, a warm square against the evening sky.

He needed to give her time. He knew that. She’d asked for it and he owed her that much at least.

He just didn’t know how much time was enough and how much was too long. He went inside, sat at the kitchen table, and stared at nothing. He’d never once in his life felt this useless.

Ethan couldn’t wait any longer, he gave her an hour.

He knew it probably wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t sit at that table any longer. He’d tried to eat and given up, tried to watch television, and given up on that too. He’d called Cole and hung up before it connected because this wasn’t something he wanted to talk through with his brother, not yet. This was something he needed to fix himself.

He grabbed his hat, left the house, walked across the yard to the hay barn and stood at the bottom of her stairs for a moment looking up at the light still burning in her window. Then he climbed the stairs and knocked.

Silence.

Then footsteps, slow and deliberate, and the door opened.

She’d changed into sweats and one of his T-shirts that she’d claimed weeks ago and never given back. Her hair was down and her eyes were red rimmed. It hit him square in the chest.

She looked at him and said nothing.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. “A real one, not the one I gave you this morning.”

She leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, but she didn’t close the door.

He took that as permission to continue.

“I pushed you toward something I had no right to push you toward. I thought I understood what I was asking and I didn’t. I’ve never had to protect myself from a parent and I can’t imagine what that costs a person. I should have respected that you already knew what you were dealing with.” He held her gaze.“You were right. I made you doubt yourself and I’m sorry for that. Genuinely.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

“She never wanted me,” Naomi said quietly. “She wanted whatever she thought my grandmother left behind. That’s all I ever was to her. An inconvenience and then an opportunity.”

“I know that now.”

“I knew it before.” Her voice was steady, but her eyes were bright. “I just let you convince me I was wrong.”

“I know.” He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Naomi.”

She looked at him, her jaw tight, her arms still crossed.

“I hear you,” she said. “And I believe you meant well. But that doesn’t make it hurt less, Ethan. She sat across from me and let me think she actually cared, and I believed her because you made me think I should.” Her voice stayed even but barely. “I opened a door I’d spent my whole life keeping shut and she walked right through it, and proved me right and herself worthless, and I have to live with that now.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying you know.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t know. You can’t know.”

He stood there and took it because she was right and because she deserved to say it.

The silence stretched between them, long and uncomfortable.

Finally, she uncrossed her arms and looked away.

“I’m not ready to be okay about this yet,” she said.