Page 86 of Fractured Ice

"He's been with so many women."

"I know."

"And he's been impossible to deal with. Since we were kids. Every interaction has been a disaster." I look at my coffee. "Why would he focus on me now? Specifically? If he wanted something casual there are hundreds of other options on this campus."

"What if he doesn't want something casual?"

"He's Ethan Walker."

"I know who he is."

"Emma. The man had twins in Denver."

"According to Mason and Tyler, who are not what I'd call reliable narrators." She tilts her head. "What are you actually scared of?"

I consider the question. It doesn't take as long as I'd like it to. "That it's working. Whatever he's doing, whether it's intentional or not… it's working on me. And I don't have a plan for what I’m going to do about that."

Emma's expression does something soft. She doesn't say anything yet.

"He knows things about me," I say. "Things that don't make sense for him to know. Pink cotton candy. Lollipop trades. The way I smile when I'm concentrating. He went back to look for my science project, Emma. The one he knocked in the lake in sixth grade. He dove into the water to look for a papier-mâché solar system."

"He went into the water?"

"He went back to the lake to look for it." I look at her. "After. He felt bad and he went back and looked for it."

She wraps both hands tighter around her mug. "I see."

"And he drove an hour after practice to see his little sister's opening night. And he volunteers with youth hockey on Sundays and has never once mentioned it to anyone." I stop. "And he held Rory together when she needed someone, and fought for her when the doctors weren't listening, and he stayed at the hospital until everything was handled."

"Sienna."

"I know."

"How do you feel about you and him?"

The question sits there. I've been building a case, and the case keeps pointing in one direction. I've been trying to redirect it and it's not cooperating.

"I like him," I say. It comes out smaller than I intend it.

Emma waits.

"I really like him." I press my fingers to my mouth for a second. "I like him and I've been trying not to for a long time and I'm not sure I've been doing as good a job as I thought." I look at the counter. "Last night he—" I stop. "He was kind. Under all of it. He was just kind. He respected my boundaries without a thought."

"And?"

"And I woke up this morning and looked at him asleep in his own bed with me and I felt—" I search for the word and find it and don't love finding it. "Close. I felt close to him. Which is terrifying."

Emma is quiet for a moment. She reaches over and refills my coffee without me asking.

"Tell me why he's wrong for you," she says.

"His history."

"One."

"The fact that he's been impossible for years."

"Two."