POV: Chloe
The bathroom tiles were cold against my bare feet, a sharp contrast to the steam already filling the room.
Ethan turned to face me, and the intensity from the lobby had softened into something else, something that looked almost like vulnerability.
"You have no idea how much I missed you," he said quietly, his hands finding my waist.
"Every night in our bedroom, I kept reaching for you and finding empty space."
"Ethan, I'm sorry I couldn't..."
"Shh." His finger pressed against my lips.
"You're here now. That's what matters."
He pulled his travel-damp shirt over his head, and I couldn't help the way my eyes traced the familiar lines of his chest.
The muscles earned from years of competitive hockey games. His body was no different from Tristan's, just a bit younger.
"
