Page 75 of Ethan & Grace

“Yours,” I said at the same time, and laughed. “At least you admit it.”

“In my defence, I wasn’t trying to be mean to you when we first met. I was just really hungover. And I had a headache.”

“That doesn’t excuse what you said to me.”

I couldn’t remember his exact words, but I knew they hadn’t been nice. It was the first day Giulia had asked me to clean the Darlingtons’ private floor. I had been pretty nervous, and then, out of nowhere, Ethan had come storming out of his room in nothing but his boxers, shouting at me for having the audacity to turn on the vacuum cleaner. Maybe I should have smiled and apologised, but that had never been my style. Instead, I’d stood my ground. That first stormy encounter had set the tone for our relationship; there’d been sparks flying right from the beginning. Until we ran into each other after Amy’s death a few weeks ago.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Ethan said. He rolled us over so he was lying on top of me, his arms braced on either side of my body so I wouldn’t have to bear his full weight. His biceps were flexed, and strands of his black hair fell across his forehead as he looked down at me. Even in the dim light, I could see his smile lighting up his eyes.

My heart skipped a beat. Ethan was ridiculously attractive. Both inside and out. I couldn’t help wondering why he’d kept that inner beauty hidden from me for so long, and maybe from everyone else too. Because the Ethan smiling down at me right now wasn’t the same Ethan who’d thrown rubbish at my feet just a few months ago. Maybe the post-orgasm haze was messing with my head, but the more time I spent with him, the more convinced I was that the man lying here with me now was the real Ethan.

I’d seen him in high spirits before this, laughing loudly with his friends, especially when he was drunk or high. But he had never looked truly happy. Cheerful, sure—but not happy. Now, though, he did. With me.

I stroked his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss the palm of my hand.

“You’ve really changed these past few weeks,” I observed.

He sighed. “So you noticed?”

“If I hadn’t noticed, we wouldn’t be lying here.”

“Which would be a real shame,” he replied, and kissed me deeply. I didn’t let it throw me—I could tell that he was just trying to distract me.

He rarely talked about himself. Our conversations were mostly about me, Amy, and the accident. Of course, he told me bits and pieces about his life, and he would answer when I asked questions, like I had earlier about his weekend with James. But even then, he managed to quickly turn the focus back to me. And he hardly ever spoke about his family. Occasionally he would mention his mum and Henry in passing, but he seemed to avoid talking about his dad at all costs.

I pressed a gentle hand against Ethan’s chest.

He understood straightaway and rolled off me.

“There’s a lot going on in your life right now. Maybe you want to talk about it?”

“What do you want me to say? You already know everything.”

I lifted a hand and ran my fingers through his hair. He leant into the touch. “You could tell me how you’re feeling about it all.”

“How do you think I feel? It’s no secret what my dad did, or what that’s done to the hotel. Or what he drove Henry to do. And don’t even get me started on Mum. She used to be a happy woman. Now she’s just drunk most of the time, because it’s the only way she can bear all this shit.”

“But what about you? I don’t want to have to guess how you’re feeling. I want to hear it from you. You can tell me anything,” I assured him. I would have told him anything too. Right now, he knew more about me, my life, and my feelings than my own family did, and that had helped me a lot. I wanted to do the same for him.

The room went quiet. Not even the sounds of the city reached us up here. I was starting to think Ethan wasn’t going to reply when he finally began to speak, his voice low.

“Repressing things is my superpower right now. Everything’s just so fucked up. My mum drinks. Henry needed stimulants to cope. And my dad’s a narcissistic bastard who won’t admit he’s done something wrong. In his universe, he’s somehow the victim of our weak personalities.” His voice was calm, but his breathing had quickened. He was trying to hide how much it all got to him.

“You’re not weak. You’re all just doing what you can to survive the chaos your dad created.”

“And yet we’re falling apart, one by one.”

“You don’t seem to be.”

“Maybe because I was already broken,” he murmured quietly.

My hand stilled. “What do you mean?”

He looked away. “You don’t want to know.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ethan’s silence wasn’t about protecting himself. He wanted to protect me. I let my hand rest on his chest, right over his heart. It was beating far too fast. I wanted him to know I was there for him, that I wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted him to share his problems with me, even though doing so would only bring us closer, tugging my heart further into dangerous territory. But if I was being honest, I knew I’d been walking an emotional minefield with Ethan for a while now. Risky as it was, I wasn’t about to step back. “I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me.”

Ethan met my eyes, and my breath caught in my throat for a moment. His gaze was so intense, so full of pain, that I could feel it with every fibre of my being. “You have to promise this stays between us. I’ve barely told anyone, and I don’t want the wrong people finding out.”