Chapter:13
1608 Words
---
After Ethan ended the call with Lily, a heavy silence filled the small bedroom. Alex lingered awkwardly near the dresser, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
"You should lie down," she said finally, her voice unsure but firm.
Ethan shook his head stubbornly. "I'm fine."
"You’re not fine," she replied, crossing her arms. "You’re bleeding through your bandage. And you look like you might pass out any second."
He cracked a small, tired smirk. "You always this bossy with strangers?"
Alex flushed slightly but stood her ground. "Only the ones bleeding all over my floor."
There was a beat of silence before Ethan finally gave in, lowering himself onto the bed with a pained grunt. He leaned back against the pillows, his breathing shallow.
Alex hesitated, then moved to the bathroom, rummaging through her things. She came back with a small first aid kit — it was clear she didn't really know what she was doing, but she was determined.
"This might hurt," she warned softly, kneeling by the bed.
Ethan watched her with something almost like amusement as she carefully peeled away the old, bloody cloth. Her hands trembled slightly, but she kept going, concentrating hard.
"You're brave," he said quietly.
Alex glanced up, startled. "For what? I'm not the one who got shot."
"For not throwing me out. For helping me." His voice was low, rough. Honest.
Their eyes met for a moment too long. Alex felt her heart thudding awkwardly in her chest. She looked away first, focusing back on cleaning the wound.
"You didn’t really give me a choice," she muttered. "You kind of pushed me into it."
Ethan chuckled — a soft, broken sound. "True."
But underneath the joking, something shifted between them — something unspoken, something fragile.
He let her patch him up the best she could. And even though they barely knew each other, it felt, strangely, like a kind of trust was forming. Not rushed. Not forced. Just... there.
After she finished, Alex sat back on her heels, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You should rest," she said, voice gentler now. "I'll... I'll keep an eye out."
Ethan's eyelids felt heavy, but he managed a small, grateful smile.
"Thanks, Alex."
And for the first time since the airport, Ethan Richmond let himself close his eyes — because for now, just for tonight, he wasn’t alone anymore.
---
Ethan leaned back, his fork idle now on the plate. For the first time in days, the tight coil in his chest had loosened — just a little.
Alex stood up and started clearing the plates. She moved with a kind of casual clumsiness, like she wasn’t used to someone else being there, but she didn’t seem to mind it either.
"You need anything?" she asked over her shoulder. "Clothes? First aid stuff? Maybe food that doesn't taste like cardboard?"
He hesitated, glancing down at the wrinkled, bloodstained shirt he was still wearing.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I could use a few things. But...I can’t exactly walk into a*****e like this."
Alex snorted. "You don't say."
She wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face him fully.
"I could take you somewhere. Quiet. There’s a thrift shop a few blocks away. Barely anyone goes there during the day. Plus, you kinda look homeless right now, so you’d fit right in."
Ethan laughed, the sound rough but real.
"You’re brutal," he said, shaking his head.
Alex just shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Brutally honest."
There was a short silence, warm and almost comfortable. But then Ethan’s expression grew serious.
"Why?" he asked quietly. "Why are you helping me?"
Alex blinked, caught off guard. She leaned back against the counter, arms folding loosely across her chest.
"I don't know," she said after a moment. "Maybe because you looked like you needed someone. Maybe because...sometimes it feels good to do something crazy."
She met his gaze steadily, and for the first time, Ethan realized there was something a little reckless, a little lonely, hiding behind her confident front.
"Besides," she added, a small grin breaking through, "you kissed me, remember? Kinda hard to ignore after that."
He groaned, rubbing his face. "I panicked."
Alex laughed — really laughed this time — and the sound filled the small apartment, easy and light.
"Come on," she said, tossing him a clean hoodie from the back of a chair. "Let’s get you looking slightly less like a crime scene."
Ethan pulled the hoodie over his head, wincing a little at the tightness in his arm, but already feeling lighter somehow.
As they slipped out the door into the quiet morning, neither of them said it aloud — but something between them had shifted. They weren’t strangers anymore. Not exactly.
Maybe not yet friends.
But definitely... something.
---
The morning air was cool, crisp with the faint smell of rain lingering from the night before. Alex pulled her hoodie tighter around herself as they walked, hands stuffed into the front pocket.
Ethan kept his head low, cap pulled down over his forehead — one of Alex's brother’s old ones she found tossed in a drawer — but otherwise, he moved a little easier now. Less like a hunted man, more like someone just trying to stay unnoticed.
They walked in companionable silence for a few blocks, the streets quiet except for the occasional car passing by or the distant sound of a dog barking.
"So," Alex said after a while, sneaking a glance at him. "Italy, huh? Must’ve been nice."
Ethan gave a dry little chuckle.
"Parts of it," he said. "Other parts...not so much."
Alex raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. She could tell he wasn't ready to spill everything yet — and honestly, she wasn’t in a hurry.
They turned a corner and reached a small thrift shop squeezed between an abandoned bookstore and a nail salon. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, the warm scent of old wood, fabric, and something faintly sweet filling the air.
An older woman behind the counter barely glanced up from her magazine. Perfect.
Alex headed straight for a rack of jackets, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Ethan was following.
"You’re lucky," she said with a smirk. "Today’s half-off for guys who look like they just survived a zombie apocalypse."
Ethan grinned. "Finally, some good news."
They moved through the aisles, picking out a few shirts, a jacket, some dark jeans. Ethan grabbed a backpack too — something nondescript and sturdy.
All the while, Alex kept tossing little comments over her shoulder — jokes about fashion crimes, guesses about what hideous shirt he had to try on — and slowly, carefully, she chipped away at the walls Ethan had thrown up around himself.
At one point, he caught her trying on a ridiculous floppy hat in front of a cracked mirror, turning this way and that with an exaggerated model’s pout.
He laughed — genuinely this time, the sound surprising even himself.
Alex caught him in the reflection and smiled, not saying anything, but the warmth in her eyes said enough.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Ethan didn’t feel like he was running.
He just...was.
Just a guy.
In a thrift store.
With a girl who had no idea how much danger she was actually in — but who somehow made the world feel a little less dark anyway.
---
They didn’t rush.
After the thrift shop, they grabbed a couple of sandwiches from a corner deli Alex knew — a tiny place with cracked tiles and a grumpy old man who made the best grilled cheese Ethan had ever tasted.
By the time they made it back to the dorm, the afternoon sun was slanting low through the windows, painting everything in soft gold.
Alex dropped the backpack full of Ethan’s new clothes by the couch and kicked off her sneakers, sighing as she flopped into the lounge chair.
Ethan stood awkwardly for a second, unsure, then sat on the edge of the couch, arms resting on his knees.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
It wasn’t uncomfortable though.
It was...quiet. Safe.
Alex twisted a strand of hair around her finger, studying him out of the corner of her eye.
"You don’t have to tell me anything," she said, voice soft. "I get it. But...if you want to..."
Ethan hesitated.
The words felt heavy in his mouth.
Dangerous, even.
But he looked at her — really looked at her — and saw no judgment there. No fear. Just simple, steady patience.
"My trip to Italy..." he started slowly, choosing his words with care.
"It wasn’t a vacation. I went for work. For...someone I trusted."
Alex didn’t move, just listened.
"Things went bad," Ethan continued, his voice low. "Real bad. I was set up. Someone tried to make sure I didn’t come back."
He glanced down at the floor, jaw tight.
"I lost...a lot over there."
Alex’s chest tightened, hearing the quiet grief packed into those few words.
But instead of asking a million questions — like she wanted to — she just nodded.
"I’m sorry," she said. And she meant it.
Ethan let out a breath, slow and shaky.
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders.
It wasn’t much.
But it was a start.
Alex leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, matching his posture.
"You’re not alone now, okay?" she said firmly.
"You’re safe here."
Ethan met her eyes.
And for the first time since he set foot back on home soil, he almost believed it.
---
- Writer
