Tomorrow Is Never Promised

Chapter 9

Ethan

I stood on the front porch, duffel bag in hand, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer. Should I just forget all about this? This was a stupid decision, right? Maybe I should just insist on posting a black and white outside of his house and not let him take no for answer.

Before I could overthink it any further, I reached out and jabbed the doorbell, the little chime making a pleasant noise to alert my arrival.

Maybe he just wouldn’t answer the door, and then I could go home, forget all about this and tamp down this incessant need to protect him. I mean, after all, he wasn’t a child, he didn’t need my protection.

The door flew open, which made me jump slightly, with Oliver standing on the other side. His hair was slightly messy, but on purpose, like maybe he styled it that way. He was wearing a heather gray t-shirt with a hole in the left collar and the words Northwestern emblazoned on the front and a pair of joggers that were pulled up to his shins. If I thought he looked cute in a button up and a pair of slacks, what he was wearing now did all sorts of weird things to my insides.

“Hey.” He said in a surprised tone.

“Hey.” I echoed.

We stood there for a moment in awkward silence before he stepped out of the way and waved me in. “C’mon in.”

“Thanks.” I stepped across the threshold and into the entryway.

I had been in his house once before, but somehow it seemed different today. It was bright, open, and warm, the walls seeming to wrap you up in a nice embrace. Maybe it was because of the thick dark wood accents that were popular in craftsman-style homes, or perhaps the smell that worked its way into my nostrils. Was he baking, and also cleaning?

“Erm, I can show you your room real quick so you can get rid of your bag.” He gestured to the duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

“Yeah. Okay.” I responded. What the hell was wrong with me? It’s like I was incapable of muttering a whole sentence.

He abandoned a feather duster he apparently had in his other hand on the small accent table next to us and then turned around and began walking up the staircase behind him. I tried to look down at the steps as we climbed them, keeping my eyes off the way those joggers perfectly hugged the globes of his ass.

You're not here to check him out and flirt. You're here to watch out for him.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself in my head.

We reached the top of the landing and took a left, walking down a short hallway to a mahogany door. Oliver pushed it open, its hinges creaking and further signifying the age of the house. He stepped inside the brightly lit room and I followed close behind.

It was a large room, big enough for a king-sized bed, a dresser and an old rickety-looking rocker situated in the corner. There were two windows, one that looked out to the backyard, another that looked off to the side of the house. There was art on the walls, mainly of landscapes and vistas, but one in particular caught my eye and I stepped closer to get a better look.

It wasn’t anything special, just a vista of trees sitting atop rolling green hills with splashes of yellow and orange in their leaves. A lazy looking stream ran through it and off in the distance was a mountain range. It was beautiful, and just staring into its depths gave me warm feelings I couldn’t quite put into words.

“My Aunt painted that for me when I moved to LA after college. Actually, a lot of the art in the house is from her.” Oliver explained.

“It’s beautiful. She’s very talented.” I responded, not taking my eyes off the work.

“I’ll let her know you said that.” Even though I wasn’t looking at his face, I could hear the smile in his voice. I’m glad that Oliver had someone like his Aunt to take care of him after what he had been through. I only wish I had been so lucky.

He eyed the duffel bag still slung over my shoulder. “Is that all you brought?”

I looked down at the duffel bag and then back at him. “I don’t need much. I pack light.”

He nodded his head in understanding and shifted on his feet, looking at the door out of the corner of his eye. “I-I’m gonna let you get settled,” He began walking towards the door and stopped short, turning to face me. “If you need more blankets let me know. This room gets drafty.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I usually sleep warm, so I should be okay.”

He swallowed hard at that statement and nodded his head. “Oh. Okay.” He went for the door again and stopped, resting a hand on its frame and looking over his shoulder at me. “Thank you for, ya know.”

I gave him a smile and nodded. I did know what he meant. No matter how much Oliver had expressed that he was fine and he didn’t need me here, I knew that having someone else around might be a comfort for him. Even with all my training and my police background, I would still be nervous as s**t staying in this big house all by myself after being attacked by a brutal killer.

In a way, seeing Oliver like this, made him seem more relatable and not so much like the smart and closed-off scientist that I was used to interacting with. It took everything in my will to not close the gap between us and wrap him up in a nice and tight hug, make him feel safe and warm. Instead, I remained planted to my spot, words not being able to escape from my lungs.

He gave me a warm smile and with that he walked out of the room and disappeared down the hall. I exhaled and dropped my duffel to the floor with a thud and took in the room. I explored the jack and jill bathroom that connected the room I was in to another room, which appeared to be an office. I opened another door in the room and discovered a walk-in closet that contained boxes and totes that were labeled ‘guest bedroom’ and ‘family pictures’.

That last one kind of intrigued me, the small cardboard box tempting me. I wondered what Oliver looked like as a little kid. He was probably cute as s**t. Instead, I opted against my curiosity and backed out of the small space, closing the door with a click.

I walked out of the room and began exploring the upstairs a little more, trying not to be a snoop and more so to case the house for any weaknesses in security. If I was going to keep Oliver safe, then I needed to make sure his house was a fortress, or at least more secure.

I walked down the end of the hall and pushed another door open, this one I was sure was Oliver’s room. There was a rather large and inviting-looking king-sized bed and a large window that looked out towards the front of the house. I stood planted in the doorway, not wanting to go into his room without his permission, regardless if my curiosity was utterly killing me. I took a step back and pulled the door closed, turning on my heel and walking back the way I came.

I jogged down the staircase back to the first floor and began checking the doors, windows, and any other entry points for busted locks or any damage. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Except…

My gaze landed on a grand piano nestled in the corner next to the fireplace and the large picture window. It was a dark cherry wood color and it drew me in instantly. I ran my hand over the keyboard cover, its surface cool to the touch. Did Oliver play piano?

“Everything check out?”

I whipped around to see Oliver giving me a quizzical look, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Erm… So far. I’m just trying to figure out how the killer could have gotten into the house.” I explained, trying to look innocent regardless of the fact that I didn’t do anything wrong.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

I thought for a second. “Do you ever leave any windows open? Or doors unlocked while you’re home?”

He gave an unsure nod. “Sometimes I’ll leave a window open to let a breeze in, or if it’s raining,” he paused, his eyes going wide. “I left a window open that night because it was raining.”

“Show me.” I responded shortly.

Oliver turned around and went through a large entryway into a formal dining room and pointed towards a window. I sized it up and gave a curt nod.

“I think they totally could have fit through there.”

Oliver shook his head, burying his face in his hands. “I’m such an i***t. You would think, given my history, I would have learned by now.” His tone was pained.

“Hey,” I approached him and grabbed his shoulders gently in my hands, my tone firm. “Don’t blame yourself for this. Your home is a place where you should feel safe. You couldn’t have known the killer would crawl through a f*****g window in the dining room.”

He looked at me with those rich brown eyes, a hint of sadness and defeat in them that I wished I could wipe out of them. Instead, I thought of a different solution, something that I knew I could do that didn’t cross this invisible boundary we had seemed to draw.

“Why don’t we go to the hardware store and pick up some stuff? I can have this place turned into a fortress to the point where even a f*****g mouse won’t be able to move without us knowing about it.”

A small chuckle escaped his lips, and it was a beautiful sound that I wanted to continue drawing out of him. “That seems a little excessive.”

“You let me worry about how excessive it’ll be.” I asserted with a cocky grin.

That got a smile out of him that reached up to his eyes and made them shine with a brilliance that got my heart thumping harder. I rubbed his shoulders slightly before dropping my arms and quirking an eyebrow.

“Alright then. Let’s get to work.”

Oliver

After a trip to the hardware store, and watching Ethan adorably dork out on all of the home security options: floodlights, cameras, and door and window sensors; we went back at the house. Ethan was on a ladder about fifteen feet in the air, drilling a floodlight into the side of my house that would bathe the backyard in a bright light if anyone dared set foot in it. I had to admit, I admired his dedication to the cause, and I would be lying if I didn’t feel a little more safe having him around.

We’ll just keep that tidbit to ourselves.

Ever since Ethan set foot in the house, I felt a sort of calm wash over me. The more I thought about it, the obsessive cleaning was probably some underlying anxiety. I had been slightly on edge ever since the attack. I tried to hide it as best as I could. Though I’m pretty sure Ethan could see right through that facade.

“Are these really necessary?” I asked as I watched Ethan install the floodlight.

“Yes, trust me.” He replied.

I do.

“Okay.” I replied instead.

He climbed down the ladder and stared up at his handy work, nodding to himself and then folding the ladder back up, slinging it up on his shoulder and carrying it back to the garage.

“What’s next?” I asked, wondering what else there could possibly be to install in my house that didn’t make it seem like some impenetrable fortress straight out of some zombie flick.

He set the ladder down and put his hands on his hips, giving a thoughtful look. “I think all that’s left is the spear pits and the laser grid.”

I stared at him with wide eyes. He was joking, right? I mean, he wouldn’t really go to that extent… would he?

His face split into a humorous grin. “Kidding.”

I chuckled and the tension released from my shoulders. “Right, I knew that.” Did I though?

“It’s getting dark, so we can do the door and window sensors if you want. Tomorrow I can install the cameras and video doorbell.”

I nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

Once inside the house, Ethan showed me how to install the sensors. They seemed simple enough for me to install and after that we set out to different parts of the house to install them. I cursed at how many windows this house had, I just had to have a house with a lot of natural light potential. Maybe it was a mistake buying this house. After the attack, I felt exposed in it because of all the windows. At least I had Ethan here though, it made a world of difference for sure.

“Okay,” Ethan began. We were standing in the entryway after installing most of the sensors. “If anyone opens the front or back door, this is what will happen.” He popped the front door open and there was a pleasant little chime followed by a cool female voice.

“Front door open.”

“Fancy.” I gave an impressed nod.

“That’s nothing,” He closed the door and went to the wireless keypad next to the door. After tapping a few numbers, he gave me a grin. “Watch this.”

He popped the door open and this time a shrill siren screamed throughout the house, forcing me to cover my ears as the sound reverberated through my brain.

“Shut it off!”

He laughed and punched another code into the keypad and, after hitting a final button, the siren stopped. I gave a sigh of relief and rolled my eyes.

“God, that was annoying.”

“I know,” He grinned gleefully at me. “Isn’t it great?”

I gave him an amused look. “You’re really enjoying yourself aren’t you?”

He nodded, that grin never leaving his face. “Yeah, I kind of am.” I had to admit, that crooked little grin really suited him.

His stomach grumbled and I quirked an eyebrow at him. “You hungry?”

“I guess I kind of am.” He winced.

“What do you feel like?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Something simple would be fine.”

I nodded my head. “I can whip something up.”

“I can just order take out, it’s no big deal.”

“Are you seriously going to turn down a home-cooked meal?” I c****d an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head. “I don’t need you to make a big fuss.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “I’ve had chicken thawing for chicken alfredo. It’s not a big fuss at all. Besides,” I shrugged my shoulders. “I want to show my appreciation for all you did today.”

A pink flush began to creep into his cheeks. “It wasn’t much.”

“It was more than you realize.” I dropped my gaze to the floorboards beneath my bare feet to avoid his eye contact. I gestured over my shoulder in the direction of the kitchen with my thumb. “I’ll get started on dinner. Make yourself at home.” I spun around and made my way down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Okay.” I heard Ethan respond quietly.

Once I got into the kitchen, I pulled the now thawed chicken out of the fridge and pulled all the spices and supplies I needed to make my Aunt’s recipe for chicken alfredo. I had made this dish so many times with my Aunt Gloria that I didn’t even need the recipe anymore, it was all in my head.

I hoped that Ethan liked this recipe as much as I did. I still remember the first time I had it. It was just after my parents died. One bite of this tasted better then anything our housekeeper Rosa had made in the entire time she worked for us. Not that Rosa was a bad cook, she was terrific, it’s just my Aunt’s cooking had something else added to it. A certain kind of heart or passion behind it.

I had just popped the chicken breast into the oven when I heard the tinkling of piano keys coming from the living room. I froze in front of the oven, resting my hands against the counter on either side. Ethan had found the piano, apparently. Before too long, Candle In the Wind began playing softly, its melody traveling throughout the house and wrapping itself around me, dragging me towards the epicenter of the sound.

I walked through the formal dining room and came to a stop in the large doorway that connected it to the living room. I leaned against the solid wood frame and watched him play. His back was to me so I couldn’t see his face, but his body rocked slightly as he played. He was good. Out of all the things that I thought Ethan Beck would be good at, piano was nowhere near being on the list. This was a very different side to the gruff and surly detective that I was used to seeing. This was a sensitive part of Ethan, and goddammit if it wasn’t sexy as hell.

Watching him was very reminiscent of when I used to sit on the rug in the living room as a child, my legs crossed, looking up at my mom as her fingers danced across the very keys that Ethan’s were now playing along. Except my mom played more Beethoven and Mozart, and less Elton John.

The song ended and he turned around on the bench. I had seconds to disappear into the formal dining room but by the time I had thought of it, he was already facing me, his gaze immediately landing on mine and his eyes going wide.

“s**t, I’m sorry, I just-“

“No, it’s okay.” I reassured him as a scarlet blush began to rise into his face. Was he embarrassed about his obvious and beautiful talent? “You’re really good.” I added.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

I crossed the living room and sat on the bench next to him, giving him a hopeful look. “Play something else?” I asked.

Every ounce of me hoped he would oblige my request. It had been so long since I had heard someone play this piano so beautifully, and I knew my mom would be happy that someone was doing it justice besides just sitting in this living room collecting dust.

He turned around and strung out a light and playful melody while leaning into me. “Any requests?” He gave me a lopsided grin and I smiled nervously. The warmth of his skin brushing against mine and sending waves of heat straight to my core.

“Moonlight Sonata?” I asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at me, still giving me that lopsided smile. “Kind of depressing, don’t you think?”

I shrugged. “It’s my favorite.”

His smile got even wider. “Okay then,” He started playing the beginning, the low notes echoing into my soul. “But only if you’re my co-chair.” He glanced over at me.

“I-I don’t know how to play.” I admitted embarrassingly.

The melody stopped and a confused look pinched at his face. “You don’t know how to play?”

“Not a note.” I replied.

He gaped at me before gesturing to the piano before us. “Then why do you have this piano?” He chuckled.

I thought for a second, wondering if I should tell him, at the risk of killing the vibe we were sharing. But I couldn’t lie to Ethan, he had this annoying way of pulling the truth out of me.

“It was… my moms.” I admitted.

His eyes met mine and in an instant I could see an understanding behind them. He knew exactly where I was coming from and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, I couldn’t say.

“She played?” He asked in a gentle tone.

I nodded my head in response, a lump starting to rise in my throat at the memories of her playing on this piano.

“So did my mom.” I looked over at him and he gave me a soft smile. So that’s how he understood. “In fact,” he continued. “She insisted that I learn, even though it pissed the hell outta my old man.” He scoffed, a new pain forming behind his eyes.

I was just about to inquire about that pain before he shook his head and gave me that lopsided grin again. With a swift movement, he grabbed my hands gently in his, making my breath catch.

They were rough and calloused, but that wasn’t what shocked me, it was how warm and inviting they were. It made me wish that he would just hold my hands forever, not only that, but also touch me in other places as well.

He placed them on the keyboard, the cool ivory of the keys contrasting the warmth in his hands in a beautiful symphony of their own.

“When I signal, you play these four keys.” He gestured at my index and middle fingers.

I nodded quickly in response, my voice seeming to have failed me at that moment.

“You ready?” He gave me an excited grin, and I couldn’t help but return it.

“Mmhmm.” Was all I could muster.

The beginning tone of Moonlight Sonata began ringing out of the piano, enveloping us in its melody. I was so mesmerized by the beauty of it that I almost missed Ethan’s signal and quickly jabbed my fingers down on the keys, the high notes echoing and competing against the lows.

“Good!” He exclaimed with a chuckle over the melody, which made me smile and my chest warm.

Seeing Ethan like this was something else. He was completely in his element and there was a joy radiating off of him that was downright contagious. I imagined a young Ethan, sitting next to his mom in front of a piano similar to this one, his short legs swinging back and forth as she smiled at him and instructed him which keys to play.

The whole world seemed to fade away as Ethan’s hands glided over the piano keys until it was just me and him sitting on this bench together, our shoulders occasionally bumping together and me jabbing keys every time Ethan touched the back of my hand with his. It was probably the most fun I had had in a while.

Once the song was finished, we just looked at each other for some time. Our pinkies were touching as our hands remained rested on the keyboard.

“You’re a natural.” He smiled at me.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Please, I played four notes.”

“You gotta start somewhere.” He shrugged.

He dropped his hands from the keyboard, resting them on the edge of the bench, and so did I, but I rested mine in my lap because I didn’t trust what I would do with them. A million emotions were swimming through me at that moment, my chest expanding and my heart welling with a sense of connectedness to Ethan. I wanted to tell him how much that moment meant to me, how much sharing this experience with him meant to me.

“Ethan…” I spoke quietly.

“Yeah.” He responded softly, a hint of wanting in his eyes.

I opened my mouth to say what I don’t know, but I was cut off by the sound of the oven timer signifying that the chicken was done.

I hopped from the stool and backed away. “I should probably get that before it over cooks.”

His eyes shifted from wanting to what looked like disappointment, his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His tone was raspy as he echoed the same singular word as before. “Yeah.”

I turned around on my heel and fled the scene, escaping to the safety of the kitchen. The look of defeat in Ethan’s eyes was stuck on replay in my brain.

Pause rewind play, pause rewind play.

I took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the counter, giving a groan of defeat and cursing myself to high heavens. What exactly was I expecting from that interaction? How did I go from not wanting anything between us, to wanting to be friends, to now wanting something more?

This was going to get complicated fast unless I could figure out these emotions fighting within me.

“Oliver.”

“Little busy.” I scrambled with herbs and spices as I mixed them into my homemade alfredo sauce. I couldn’t turn around and look at him, I couldn’t see that defeated look again.

“There was another murder.” He stated matter-of-fact.

I turned around at that. He had his phone to his ear, a stoic look set on his rough features. Ethan was in detective mode now. Maybe that was for the best.

“Where, Sully?” He clipped into the phone. He nodded his head, “We’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up the phone, shoving it into his back pocket while meeting my gaze across the room.

I didn’t move from my spot, instead I just stared back at him. After what just happened in the living room, I didn’t know how to interact with him now. There was obviously something that flowed between us, and it was pretty apparent by the hurt expression he tried to hide behind his serious facade that it was more than just feelings for a friend.

When he spoke, his tone was gruff with a little bite behind it that it shouldn’t have felt like a punch to the gut but did. “C’mon… We got a job to do.” And with that he grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the bar stool at the island and threw it on with one quick motion before heading out of the kitchen.

I turned the burners off and made sure the oven was off before grabbing my own jacket and following Ethan out of the front door. I couldn’t help this nagging feeling that we were back to square one as far as our relationship went, and dammit if that didn’t hurt.

Nice one Oliver.