CHAPTER 3
771 Words
The rain didn’t ease. It grew heavier, drumming against the windows like a restless thought Ethan couldn’t quiet. He sat on the chair, jacket folded neatly beside him, sleeves rolled up, his hands clasped together as if holding himself in place.
Amelia lay on the bed, facing the wall at first. She could feel his presence behind her, steady and alert. It unsettled her in a way she didn’t want to admit. She wasn’t used to sharing space with a man like Ethan Blake. Or any man, really. Life hadn’t given her room for that kind of distraction.
After a while, she turned slightly, propping herself on one elbow.
“You should try to sleep,” she said softly.
“I will,” he replied, though he didn’t move.
She studied him in the dim light. He looked different now. Less guarded. Tired in a way money couldn’t fix.
“You don’t sleep much, do you?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “Not well.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “Too much noise in my head.”
She nodded, understanding more than she said. “Mine used to be loud too. It gets quieter when you stop running from it.”
He looked at her sharply. “And how did you manage that?” “I didn’t,” she said honestly. “I just learned how to walk with it.” Something in her words settled between them.
Silence returned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable now. It felt shared.
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
Then Ethan stood. “I’ll get some water.”
He crossed the room, careful not to look at her again. When he returned, Amelia was sitting up, her legs drawn close, the blanket loose around her shoulders. “You don’t have to stay on the chair,” she said. “There’s space.” He stopped.
“Amelia—”
“I trust you,” she added quietly.
That was what did it.
He nodded once and lay on the far edge of the bed, leaving a respectful distance between them. The mattress dipped slightly, the closeness unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
They lay there, staring at the ceiling.
“I never thanked you properly,” Ethan said after a while.
“For what?”
“For seeing what everyone else missed. And for not using it against me.”
She turned her head toward him. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why it mattered.” Her heart beat a little faster.
“People usually want something from me,” he continued. “Access. Favour.
Money.”
“And what do you think I want?” she asked.
He turned to face her now. Their eyes met in the low light.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “And that terrifies me.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Good. It means you’re paying attention.” He laughed quietly — a sound that surprised both of them.
The laughter faded. The space between them felt thinner now, charged with something neither had planned.
Ethan reached out, stopping just short of touching her hand. “Tell me to stop,” he said.
She didn’t.
Instead, she closed the gap, her fingers brushing his. The contact was light, tentative, like a question.
He exhaled slowly, then turned fully toward her. His other hand came up to her cheek, warm, careful.
“This isn’t how I usually do things,” he admitted.
“It isn’t how I do things at all,” she replied.
Their foreheads rested together for a moment, sharing breath, sharing hesitation.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was searching. As if he was trying to understand her through the feel of her lips. As if she was letting him.
When they pulled back, Amelia’s eyes were bright, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ethan… this changes things.”
“I know,” he said. “I don’t want it if it doesn’t.”
She studied him, really studied him. The man behind the power. The boy behind the walls.
“Then don’t turn it into something careless,” she said.
“I won’t,” he promised. And for the first time in a very long while, he meant it.
They lay together after that, not rushing further. Just holding on. Letting the storm pass outside while something quieter, deeper began inside both of them.
By morning, the rain had softened into a gentle mist.
And when Amelia woke, Ethan was still there.
Still choosing to stay.
- Writer
