4.
1307 Words
Chapter 4.
Ethan Hayes’ POV
The photo burns into my brain like a scar I’ll never get rid of.
Lena. In Adrian’s arms. Wearing his shirt. Smiling like she hasn’t spent the last three years in my bed.
I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched.
The bar around me disappears. The voices, the music, the clinking of glasses—all of it fades into the background as I stare at my phone, my fingers tightening around it like it’s the only thing holding me together.
This isn’t real.
It can’t be.
Lena isn’t like this. She isn’t the type to just move on overnight. Not after what we had. Not after everything.
Unless I never really knew her at all.
My chest tightens as my brain catches up to the truth—she was with him. She let him touch her. She let him hold her. She let him in.
And Adrian—my own brother—let it happen.
A fresh wave of anger rolls through me, hot and uncontrollable. I shove away from the barstool so fast it nearly topples over.
I need to see her.
I need to look her in the eyes and hear her say it. That she’s done. That she’s already replaced me. That the last three years meant nothing.
Because if I don’t, this will kill me.
I press the call button on my phone and lift it to my ear, pacing toward the exit. It rings. And rings.
Then straight to voicemail.
I curse under my breath, shoving my way through the bar’s entrance and into the cold night air.
She’s avoiding me.
She knows what she’s doing.
I don’t hesitate. I pull up Adrian’s contact and hit dial instead.
He answers on the second ring. “That was fast.”
I grit my teeth. “Where is she?”
A pause. Then, in that calm, infuriating voice, Adrian says, “She’s where she wants to be.”
Rage claws its way up my throat. “Cut the bullshit, Adrian. Where. Is. She?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
My grip on my phone tightens. “You think this is funny?”
“No,” he says, his voice steady. “I think it’s sad. I think it’s sad that you’re only this desperate now that she’s gone. That you’re only chasing her because you saw her with me.”
My chest heaves. “That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” His voice sharpens. “Tell me something, Ethan. If Lena was still sitting at home, waiting for you to apologize, would you have even picked up the phone?”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
Adrian lets out a dry laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration clawing at my insides. “You don’t know a damn thing about me and Lena.”
“Don’t I?”
There’s something different in his voice now. Not anger. Not amusement.
Something possessive.
Something that makes my stomach drop.
I take a slow, measured breath. “Did you sleep with her?”
Silence.
It’s only a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime.
Then—
“No.”
I exhale sharply, relief flooding through me—but it’s short-lived.
“Not yet.”
A new kind of fury surges inside me. My entire body goes rigid.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Adrian sighs, like he’s bored. “It means she’s still figuring things out. But if you keep pushing her, you’re going to make the decision a hell of a lot easier.”
I see red.
“You think you can just take her?” My voice is low, dangerous. “Like she’s some prize to win?”
“She’s not a prize, Ethan.” Adrian’s voice hardens. “She’s a woman. A woman you didn’t appreciate until she walked away.”
I shake my head. “She doesn’t love you.”
“I didn’t say she does.”
There’s something so calm, so infuriatingly confident in his tone that it makes my blood boil.
“She’s mine.” I don’t even realize I’ve said it until the words are already out.
Adrian laughs. A cold, humorless sound. “Not anymore.”
The line goes dead.
An Hour Later
I don’t remember the drive to Adrian’s apartment.
One second, I’m gripping my phone in the middle of a freezing parking lot. The next, I’m standing outside his door, my pulse a thunderstorm in my ears.
I shouldn’t be here. I know that.
But the rage, the betrayal, the absolute need to see her overrides everything else.
I knock once.
Then again.
Harder.
Footsteps sound from the other side. A lock turns. The door swings open—
And there she is.
Lena.
She’s standing barefoot in Adrian’s doorway, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that’s definitely not hers. Her hair is damp, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, and her face—God, her face—
She looks tired.
But not broken.
Not shattered the way I am.
She freezes the second she sees me. “Ethan.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “We need to talk.”
Her lips press together. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Lena—”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Adrian’s voice cuts through the air like a knife.
I lift my gaze, locking eyes with him as he steps into the doorway beside Lena. He’s barefoot, just like her. His shirt is wrinkled, his hair slightly tousled. He looks relaxed. Comfortable.
Like he belongs here.
Something inside me snaps.
I shove past him, stepping into the apartment. “We’re talking.”
Lena grabs my arm. “Ethan, stop.”
I turn to her, searching her face. “Tell me you’re not serious about this.” My voice is hoarse, desperate. “Tell me you’re not really choosing him.”
She flinches. “I’m not choosing anyone.”
My jaw clenches. “Then why are you here?”
She exhales, wrapping her arms around herself. “Because I needed space. Because I needed time.” She looks up at me, her eyes sharp. Hurt. “Something you never gave me.”
A knife to the gut.
“I tried calling you,” I say, softer now. “I tried—”
“You tried when it was too late.”
Her voice cracks on the last word, and it nearly destroys me.
I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Lena, I messed up. I know that. But you and I… we’re not over. We can’t be.”
She closes her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Ethan—”
“I love you.”
The words fall between us like a weight.
She blinks up at me, her lips parting slightly. I see it—the flicker of something real, something familiar.
Hope.
But then Adrian steps behind her. A silent reminder. A barrier between us.
And whatever was left of that hope?
Dies.
Lena lifts her chin. “I think you should go.”
My heart stops. “What?”
Her voice is quieter now. “I need time, Ethan. And I can’t figure out what I want if you keep showing up like this.”
A cold, sinking feeling spreads through me.
She’s slipping through my fingers.
I shake my head. “Lena, please—”
“Go.”
Two letters. One command.
And suddenly, I’m frozen.
Because for the first time in three years—
Lena isn’t asking me to fight for her.
She’s asking me to walk away.
I take a shaky breath, my hands curling into fists.
Then, without another word—
I turn and walk out the door.
And this time?
She doesn’t stop me.
- Writer
