Forever Embers (Embers Series Book 3)
Page 13
She holds out her glass to mine and clinks it softly. “Fake it till we make it,” she says and takes a sip. I follow suit.
The sound of the front door opening and clicking shut lets us know Olly is home. He comes walking into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks, and I swear he wishes I was anywhere but here right now.
I feel like I’m intruding on a private, unspoken moment between the two of them, and I realise I long for something like that one day, too.
“Shit… How am I supposed to watch the fight and cheer on my boy when I am batting away all the guys trying to hit on you both?”
Rachel laughs, steps forward, and he opens his arms, pulling her in and giving her a chaste kiss.
“Nah, seriously, you both look gorgeous,” he says.
“Thank you,” I reply, stroking my palm down the front of my dress.
Olly lets go of Rachel and she turns to grab her glass of wine.
“I’m serious though, the guys better stay away,” Olly says in an overprotective tone.
I roll my eyes. Having him and Alfie both pulling out the big brother card is a little annoying.
“What if she likes girls?” Rachel counters, tilting her head to the side.
Olly looks at her and then back to me. “Well, then you can beat them away,” he replies to her with a massive smirk on his face.
I pop my hand on my hip. “Oliver, you do know I’m twenty-four and more than capable of looking after myself, right?”
He holds his hands up. “Fine, but if I think someone is getting a little too fresh, I will step in. You’re still my baby sister.”
I’m nervous when we arrive at the fight, and I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. My stomach is alive with butterflies in anticipation of seeing Ethan, even though I only saw him yesterday.
Seated, I find myself scanning the nameless faces as I wait for him to arrive whilst also trying to be discreet. Rachel mouths, “You okay?” and I nod. Just as the hairs on the back of my neck rise, I glance to my right, and that’s when I see him. Ethan. But before I have a chance to appreciate what he’s wearing, I see his hand move to Meg’s lower back as he ushers her towards us, and out of nowhere, I’m hit with a wave of jealousy.
I swallow down the unfamiliar feeling and try to plaster on what I hope is a genuine smile as they approach.
Meg, of course, looks stunning, her raven black hair loose down her back, a knee-length dress, and legs that go on for days.
Together, she and Ethan exude power as they move closer––a picture-perfect couple. Well, of course, she’s with his twin brother.
When Rachel and Olly stand to greet them, I take a minute to take him in. He’s wearing belted dark jeans, a white shirt with the first two buttons undone, a dark tie in a loose knot, and a blazer. His eyes connect with mine, sweeping over me as I stand, and I don’t miss the way his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare ever so slightly. When he leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek in greeting, I’m not even ashamed to say that I take a moment to appreciate just how good he smells.
Meg sits down next to me and Ethan says something close to her ear before Olly leans over and asks her if she’s okay, and she nods. I haven’t missed the way she seems a little anxious––and how tense he and Ethan appear to be in her presence. I know there’s history with Emilio and a lot riding on tonight’s fight, but I still feel like I’m missing something monumental.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ethan
Tonight’s the first time I’ve attended a fight since I retired. If it wasn’t for the nerves I have over Henry being up against that arsehole Emilio, then I might be freaking out over Lottie being here. But there are more pressing things on my mind, like worrying about Henry and Meg.
I was livid when I found the threatening texts on her phone, and it’s no secret she’s still on his radar. At this point, we wouldn’t put it past him to try anything backhanded. Olly and I promised not to let her out of our sight.
And then there’s Lottie. I’m trying my hardest not to give myself away where she’s concerned. Not being able to openly touch her in public ever since the carefree and spontaneous trip to the fair is a struggle in itself. Just looking at her makes my dick hard.
Me: You look gorgeous btw.
It’s risky texting her, but when I glance over and see her eyes widen, I’m glad I sent it.
Charlotte: You don’t look too bad yourself x
I can’t hide my smirk as I stuff my phone back in my pocket.
I glance over to Lottie and notice a guy looking way too comfortable as he chats to her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, and damn if I don’t want to rip him away from her and tell everyone she’s mine.
The thought stumps me because I’m not sure when the lines began to blur and this became more than sex.
I quickly type out a text.
Me: Enjoying yourself?
And before I stop myself, I press send.
My eyes stay fixed on her as she reaches into her clutch and checks her phone, and even from here, I see her cheeks heat. She shifts in her seat, typing out a response.
The buzz in my pocket lets me know she’s responded, but I haven’t stopped looking at her. She raises her eyes, meeting my stare dead-on––a challenge. Instead of checking her reply, which I am dying to do, I excuse myself and make my way to the bar.
Only when I am away from everyone, I finally give in and pull out my phone.
Charlotte: I am, and he’s just being friendly.
A rough chuckle escapes my lips as my thumbs tap at my screen.
Me: Of course he was. Who wouldn’t when you’re every guy’s wet dream?
“What can I get you?” a busty blonde bartender asks, and it’s not that I was looking at her chest intentionally, it’s just that when I looked up from my phone, they were practically in my face.
I keep my eyes trained on her and order a round of drinks and a bottle of Prosecco, knowing it’s what Lottie likes to drink. She might not show it, but I know she feels a little intimidated being out in a group with me here. It’s a little awkward with us keeping what we’re doing a secret.
Part of me wonders if I should have ended things as soon as I found out she was Olly’s little sister. But she’s not little, she’s a woman, and a phenomenal one at that too. And it’s not just that… I like her––really like her. Seeing that guy trying his luck with her has got my back up, and I didn’t like it, not one fucking bit. She can act nonchalant all she wants, but later, when it’s just her and me alone, I’ll fuck it right out of her. Remind her how good we are together. She brings out the wild side in me.
I don’t know if it’s because of the nature of our non-relationship, but I feel like I can just be myself with no judgement.
The bartender brings over my drinks, I pay on my card, and she passes my receipt. I notice she’s written her digits on the back. I won’t be ringing her.
I make my way back towards the table, my eyes instantly seeking out Lottie. When hers meet mine, all I can think about is getting her alone and worshipping her until the sun comes up. She averts her eyes as I place the tray and ice bucket I had tucked under my arm onto the table.
“I just got you ladies a bottle of Prosecco, thought you could share,” I say and slide the glasses between Meg, Lottie, and Rachel.
“And what if Lottie doesn’t like Prosecco?” Meg questions.
I’m momentarily stunned as I try to come up with a reply, because shit, I shouldn’t know what Lottie drinks. I wish I had just admitted to saying we’d met before when Olly first introduced us at the gym, but that would have come with questions, and at the time, I don’t believe we were ready to answer back, but maybe we should now…
“Lottie loves Prosecco,” Olly says, and I could kiss him for saving me from my mute response. He fills their glasses as Lottie speaks up too.
“What girl doesn’t love Prosecco?” she says, smiling.
I don’t answer. Instead, I see her reply to m
y last text.
Charlotte: If I didn’t know any different, I’d think you were jealous…
“Everything all right?” Meg asks.
“Yeah, of course.” I slip my phone back into my pocket and grab my bottle of beer.
“You promise you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Her eyes bore into mine.
She’s more worried about Henry than herself, and it just shows how much she loves him. I reach out for her hand. “You know I would,” I say, squeezing her fingers beneath mine. It’s always been second nature to reach out and take her hand or pull her in for a hug, but I think maybe it’s something I need to refrain from doing––and respect that she’s not mine.
I let go of her hand and sip my beer. My eyes flit to Lottie, worried about what she made of our exchange, but she’s listening to something Rachel just said. I let out a sigh of relief. I don’t want this to get awkward, but sooner or later, she’s going to find out that Meg and I have a history, which shouldn’t bother me, but it does. Because it’s going to change everything, and this will all become real.
Thankfully, Olly and Rachel keep the conversation flowing as we wait for the fight to start, asking after Jacob, and I can’t help but smile. I still can’t believe I’m an uncle. That little boy has quickly wormed his way into my heart and has us all wrapped around his little finger. Meg was always quite careful not to say much about Clara and Jacob to me because of Henry, even more so after I lost the fight to Emilio. She was trying to be both respectful and loyal to all of us; even when she disagreed with Clara’s choices, she remained her friend throughout all of it.
She seems caught up in her head as she stares out at the ring and begins rubbing her arms, the air conditioning kicking in.
“Are you cold?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
But I can see the goosebumps coating her bare arms. I slip off my jacket and pass it to her. She rolls her eyes but pulls it over her shoulders anyway.
Charlotte
It’s funny how if anyone ever asked me if I were a jealous person, my answer would be no, without question. But as I watch the way Ethan is with Meg, something niggles at the back of my mind. My stomach’s jittery, and I don’t know why. She’s his friend, his brother’s girlfriend by all accounts, so why I feel this way is beyond me. He’s not even with me, so this—whatever this irrational, stupid sense of forbidding is—needs to stop.
Or maybe we need to stop whatever this is between us? I should be annoyed by his off-the-cuff text about that guy who just tried to come on to me. Not that Ethan needed to worry, because what he didn’t see was Olly telling the stranger to do one. But I’d be lying if Ethan’s reaction didn’t stir something in me. I liked that it bothered him.
There is something in his expression that has me wondering what’s wrong. I give him a quick look which I hope conveys my question, but it’s soon replaced with his usual expression.
I was touched when he said he’d got us a bottle of Prosecco to share, and I wonder when he began to notice the small details, like my drink of choice. It sends heat through me.
He never replied to my last text, and I wonder if he will. I quite like that everything we do is in secret, and maybe I should feel guilty, but I don’t. For once, I’m doing something just for myself, and I’m not hurting anyone. It’s not like I knew he was the twin of Olly’s best friend. Granted, he’s friends with Olly, and I wonder if that will change if this ever came out.
I sneak a glance at my phone resting in my lap and wonder what the hell possessed me to send my last text.
Ethan: I’ll show you just how much when I fuck any thoughts of him right out of your pretty little head.
I nearly choke on my saliva, his response unexpected, and damn if I don’t feel a pulse of pleasure between my thighs at the thought of him doing just that. I cross my legs and fidget in my seat.
Smiling, I look up, but it soon falls away when I see his hand holding Meg’s. Why is there something so familiar in their touch?
I try to ignore the bolt of unease now coursing through me, the excitement I felt mere seconds ago has now dissipated. The truth is, I didn’t want to come. I can’t say I feel comfortable watching people beat the crap out of each other. It goes against everything I stand for as a paramedic. I want to help people, so seeing them hurting doesn’t bode well for my anxiety. It also brings back bad memories from my childhood, before the fire, before Olly and I were separated.
But I wanted to be with Ethan, even if it was amongst his friends. How pathetic am I?
When he offers Meg his jacket, it’s too much, and I just need to breathe. I excuse myself and make my way to the ladies, and as expected, there’s a queue.
I pull out my phone.
Me: Tell me why I thought this was a good idea?
Violet is quick to respond, thankfully.
Vi: Because you like big dick and you cannot lie!
I burst out laughing, drawing attention to myself, and I quickly look down, focusing on my phone.
Me: His, yes, but is any dick worth this much trouble? You know I hate these kinds of things and watching him be all friendly with Meg makes me feel like a bitch.
Moving along in the queue, I take stock of my reflection in the mirror, and before I realise it, I begin internally comparing myself to Meg. She’s everything I’m not. Where her hair is dark, mine is red. Where she’s toned and defined, I’m all bust, arse, and curves. I hate that I’m allowing my thoughts to wander. And why do I get this niggling feeling their friendship might not be platonic? Maybe he has some unreciprocated feelings for her or something?
Vi: Girl, you’re jealous. Why?
I pull up my camera roll and send her a pic of the selfie Meg and I took earlier.
A few seconds later, she replies with flame emojis.
Vi: Damn, she’s hot!
Rolling my eyes, I enter the free cubicle and relieve myself, not surprised in the least by her reaction. Meg is her type. I make quick work of washing my hands and heading back outside, quickly replying before Olly comes searching for me.
Me: Not helping.
I pause, waiting, when the bubbles appear.
Vi: Just talk to him.
Stuffing my phone back in my purse, I make my way back to our table. It would appear there is a consensus about me talking to him, and maybe I should.
Ethan
I swear Meg’s checked her watch five times in the last minute. The moment she starts biting her nails, I know she’s struggling not to freak out.
I reach out and pull her fingers away from her mouth.
“Stop it. You’ll give yourself an ulcer,” I scold.
“Ha-ha, very funny. Come on, are you telling me you’re not nervous?”
I take a few deep breaths.
“It’s more like adrenaline brewing and I’m helpless to stop it.” I could lie, but this is Meg. She’d see right through me, and she’s still one of my best friends. Even if our dynamics are different, I don’t think that will ever really change. “I miss the buzz.”
Pity clouds her features, and I hate it.
“Don’t look at me like that, Meg. I know not everything is meant to last forever.”
And I find myself repeating the words Lottie tends to throw into the mix regularly. I hate that Meg feels sorry for me and that maybe she felt my words held a double meaning. Hell, perhaps they did.
I wrap my arm over her shoulder and kiss her temple, pulling her to my side.
“I’m fine. Henry has got this, don’t worry.” I want to settle her worries––and my own––but I genuinely do believe if anyone can take on Emilio, he can. I’m grateful when they finally announce the fight and everything else is forgotten.
Intently, I watch every move Henry makes. Not only has he been training like a fucking maniac, but he’s also been studying all of Emilio’s past fights, and it shows. To anyone else, they wouldn’t notice, but Henry is pre-empting all of Emilio’s moves. Henry’s own are all strategic.
“You need to stay calm. He’s okay,” I say in her ear.
Meg’s hands go to mine, and I think she’s going to shrug me off or push me away, but she leans into me as I carry some of the weight for her as we both focus intently on the fight.
There is this suspended moment in time, and I swear the entire crowd holds their breath as Henry attacks Emilio with one defining strike and the perfect knockout.
And then all hell breaks loose, and the crowd roars in applause. Meg spins, wrapping her hands around my neck.
“Oh my God,” she says over the sound of the crowd. “He did it.”
Yes, he fucking did. So many emotions and thoughts assault me all at once. I struggle to sort them into any kind of order. He fucking did it.
When Meg cups my cheek and looks up at me, concern in her eyes, my chest squeezes.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I nod and then eye the ring, searching for Henry. Nathan is already on him, slapping his back and hugging him like a python.
Henry’s eyes find us in the crowd, and he waves us over. Meg turns and begins to shove me in his direction, but I grip her hand in mine and drag her along with me.
As soon as I enter, Henry wraps me in a suffocating bear hug but releases me quickly. I know there is only one person he needs, and so finally, I let go of her hand, and the love I held onto for so long, to watch as he embraces her like she’s the very oxygen he needs to breathe—it’s a kiss that has so much love and promise. I step back, and when he finally comes up for air, he looks over her shoulder.
“E?” I know what he’s asking me––permission, one last time.