CHAPTER TWO
1223 Words
Chapter 2: Her Only Friend
The past had taught Isabella Montgomery that love was a liability.
But there was one exception.
Ethan Carter.
He had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember—a boy who had grown into a man without ever asking for more than she was willing to give. Where others demanded, Ethan simply existed beside her, offering his unwavering presence without expectation.
He had been her safe place once, back when she still believed in such things. But safety was an illusion, a fleeting promise that could be ripped away without warning. She had learned that the hard way. So she had pushed him away, time and time again, until she convinced herself he would stop coming back.
But he never did.
Ethan had always been different. He didn’t care about wealth or status, nor did he play the power games that dominated her world. He was steady, loyal, and maddeningly persistent.
And that terrified her.
She hadn’t seen him in months. Their last encounter had ended the same way they always did—he had reached for her, and she had turned away. Not because she didn’t want him, but because wanting him was dangerous. It meant opening herself up to the very thing she had spent her life avoiding.
But tonight, as she sat alone in the dim glow of her penthouse, a glass of untouched wine in her hand, her fingers hovered over his name in her contact list.
She shouldn’t call.
She shouldn’t need him.
And yet…
Before she could talk herself out of it, she tapped the screen.
The phone rang twice before his voice filled the silence, warm and familiar.
“Isabella.”
She closed her eyes. Just hearing him say her name softened something inside her. A crack in the armor she had spent years perfecting.
“Ethan.”
A beat of silence passed. Then, “Are you okay?”
She hesitated. Was she?
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
Another pause. Then, “Where are you?”
“At home.”
“I’m coming over.”
She should have told him not to. She should have made an excuse. But she didn’t.
Instead, she whispered, “Okay.”
Thirty minutes later, a firm knock echoed through her penthouse.
Isabella hesitated, standing frozen in front of the door. Letting Ethan in meant lowering her defenses, if only for a moment. But tonight, for reasons she couldn't fully understand, she didn’t want to be alone.
She pulled open the door.
Ethan stood there, his dark eyes scanning her face, reading everything she wasn’t saying. He looked the same—tall, strong, effortlessly composed—but there was something in his expression that made her chest tighten.
Worry. Concern. That unshakable loyalty that made her feel both safe and completely exposed.
“Hey,” he said softly.
She stepped aside, allowing him in without a word. He walked past her, his familiar scent—clean, steady, undeniably him—settling into her space like he belonged there.
She closed the door and turned to find him watching her, waiting.
“What’s wrong, Isabella?”
She let out a slow breath. “My father came to see me today.”
Ethan’s jaw tensed. He knew enough about Edward Montgomery to understand why that would unsettle her.
“What did he want?”
“To remind me that I’m alone.” She gave a hollow laugh. “That no amount of success will change that.”
Ethan frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” She folded her arms, suddenly defensive. “Look around, Ethan. I built this life on my own. No attachments, no weaknesses. It’s what I wanted.”
Ethan studied her, his gaze steady. “Then why did you call me?”
Her breath hitched.
She had no answer. Or maybe she did, but saying it aloud was too dangerous.
Ethan took a slow step closer. “Isabella, you’re not alone. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise.”
She turned away, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. The lights stretched endlessly before her, a sea of people moving, living. Yet here she was, feeling more isolated than ever.
“I don’t know how to let people in, Ethan.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be anything but this.”
He was behind her in an instant, close but not touching. His presence was warm, solid.
“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
She closed her eyes. If only it were that simple.
And just like that, the tension in her chest eased. Because Ethan was the only person in the world who understood that sometimes, silence was enough.
They sat there in the dimly lit living room, the city skyline glowing beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was quiet except for the occasional clink of their glasses.
After a while, Ethan spoke. “Do you remember the summer we spent at your family's lake house?”
A smile ghosted her lips. “How could I forget? You almost drowned.”
He chuckled. “You pushed me in.”
“You deserved it.”
Ethan smirked. “Probably.”
The memory played in her mind—the two of them as teenagers, reckless and carefree. She had shoved him into the water after he teased her, and for a brief moment, he had disappeared beneath the surface. When he came up, sputtering and laughing, she had laughed too. It was one of the last summers before everything changed—before betrayal, before her mother’s heartbreak, before she had built walls so high no one could climb them.
Ethan watched her closely. “You used to laugh more back then.”
She looked down at her glass. “I was a different person.”
“No,” he said gently. “You just buried that part of yourself.”
She wanted to argue, but the truth was, Ethan knew her better than anyone. And that terrified her.
Minutes passed in silence, the weight of unspoken words settling between them. Finally, she turned to face him, her expression guarded. “Why do you keep coming back?”
Ethan exhaled, his eyes holding hers with unwavering intensity. “Because I know the real you, Isabella. And I refuse to believe you’re as untouchable as you pretend to be.”
She looked away. “You should.”
“But I won’t.”
His certainty was infuriating. Comforting. Dangerous.
Isabella sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’re exhausting.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She shook her head, half exasperated, half something else entirely. “I don’t know why I called you tonight.”
Ethan reached out then, his fingers brushing against hers—gentle, tentative. She could pull away. She always did.
But tonight, she didn’t.
“Maybe,” he said softly, “you just needed a reminder that you don’t have to face everything alone.”
Her throat tightened. God, she hated how easily he saw through her.
But for once, she let herself believe him.
If only for tonight.
- Writer
