by Helm, Nicole
“We were teenagers,” Pen grumbled.
“Yeah. Without a lot of baggage—so you created as much as you could, because that’s what teenagers do. Now you’re thirty. You’ve got three kids, a late husband, and all kinds of baggage. And that’s just you. Add Ethan in? Pen, that’s hard. It’s going to be hard and complicated.”
“I don’t want another hard thing.” Which wasn’t totally true. She’d just been talking to Ethan about life not being easy and nothing worth it being easy but this… Well, it wasn’t fair.
Maybe in losing Henry she’d forgotten about all the hard parts of their relationship, of marriage. Or not forgotten exactly but not given those memories any space because she’d just wanted to remember the good. Nothing wrong with focusing on the good she’d had with him, but there was more to a real, living relationship than good.
Relationships were hard, no matter what. She’d been stupid to think she could waltz around with Ethan having something simple. Stupid to think Ethan would be easy, when he only kept getting harder and more complicated.
“I guess I thought anything I’d have after Henry would be a shadow. Dimmer than that because I loved him so much. But this is just as bright, and so much scarier because I have so much more to lose, and three little girls who could get hurt in all of this. They don’t need any more hurt.”
Sadie placed a hand over Pen’s. “Ethan would never hurt your girls.”
“I would have said Colt would never hurt you, but there was a time that’s exactly what he did.”
Sadie made a face. “Okay, true. And Ethan strikes me as the still waters hiding deep secrets type, which means… You’re in for it.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“He’s also one of the best men I know.”
“Yeah, there is that. The thing is, it’s not that I want to take it back. It’s not that it was wrong. It just knocked me off my feet. I wasn’t prepared for that. I have to recalibrate to thinking this might be something…bigger.” She let her head fall into her hands. “And after all that poking at him to kiss me, I ran away.”
Sadie made a small sound and when Pen looked up she glared at her little sister.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…” She made another choked sound as if trying to swallow down laughter.
“It isn’t funny, Sadie.”
“It kind of is.” Sadie attempted to keep her expression serious. “Or it will be. Some day. In the future.”
“I feel like I have to know what I want. Exactly. Or I risk…everything. My friendship with Ethan. Hurting my girls.”
“Hurting yourself.”
Life is hurt, babe. Henry used to say that a lot and it had always irritated her, but she’d never told him because he had to see awful things at work. She knew he had to believe it. And she’d worked hard to have a place for him to come home to and see that life was also beautiful.
“I think it’s an impossible task to know exactly what you want, Pen, because that’ll change. Life changes. So, maybe you simplify that a little bit.”
“Simplify?”
“Instead of trying to plan out exactly what you want, maybe just decide what you’re willing to work for. And what you’re not. Do you want to fight for something with Ethan? Because it’s going to be a fight and it’s going to be complicated. Or do you want to protect your heart and the girls’ hearts?”
“You can’t protect your heart, Sadie. Not really.”
“Well, then, isn’t that your answer?”
It was hers, but she knew it wasn’t Ethan’s. Her reaction might not have made sense to him, but it wasn’t like that kiss had changed anything he thought. Sure, he’d initiated it, but then he’d said they shouldn’t have.
“I wasn’t ready,” Pen murmured. “If I’d been ready maybe I could have handled it better. Smarter.”
“I don’t think we’re ever ready. I wasn’t.”
“You dove in headfirst with Colt.”
Sadie grinned. “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I was ready for it.”
Pen turned to her sister, for the first time in her life realizing Sadie had a better grasp on what she was doing and what she was going through than anyone. Sadie had done this. Maybe she hadn’t had a dead husband and kids as baggage, but she’d built something with one of the men her parents had brought home to care for as their own.
Pen had never relied on Sadie for advice before, but Sadie was the only one she could now. “How do you navigate all of it?”
Sadie blinked. “Are you asking me for advice?”
“Don’t act like that’s never happened before.”
“It has literally never happened before.”
“Sadie.”
“Okay. I’m no good at advice. I don’t know how we made it work. Colt had to accept some things about himself. I had to learn how to be better at expressing my feelings. But most of all we both had to get to a place where we were willing to be honest, to be uncomfortable, to let down some things we’d been carrying that didn’t serve us. I couldn’t make that happen. We both had to make that decision individually, and a lot of crap stuff had to happen to get Colt to a place where he could let some of his stuff go. I believe you dropping an f-bomb at him is one of those things.”
Pen managed a laugh. “Oh, I was so mad at him. He was being such an idiot.”
“He was. Ethan will be too.”
“You’re really bad at the cheering-up thing.”
“Oh, I thought I was giving advice. That’s never cheering.”
Pen laughed. “I guess I just have to wrap my head around this being bigger than I expected.”
Sadie slid an arm around Pen’s shoulders. “I think you’re an expert at that, Pen. And Ethan doesn’t stand a chance. You know, eventually.”
“He’s going to make me work for it.”
“He’s going to make you struggle for it,” Sadie said, giving her a squeeze. “It’ll be worth it. At least, it was for me.”
Pen sighed. She’d worked and struggled for love once. Would it really be worth doing it a second time? Would it put a burden on her girls she should avoid until they were grown?
She supposed she’d have to figure that out too.
Chapter Eleven
Pen avoided him. Ethan wanted to be relieved at every day that passed where he wasn’t in a room alone with her. Where she didn’t demand they talk about that kiss.
But nothing that happened made any sense to him. She’d initiated all that. Poked and poked until he’d been stupid enough to forget himself.
Then she’d run away and avoided him as Christmas barreled down on them.
Had she felt nothing? It had rocked him off his axis and she’d been repulsed by it after all her pushing.
He wanted to believe that, but it didn’t work. If she hadn’t felt anything, she would have told him. Just like she’d said to him—he would have let her down gently if he wasn’t interested, and she would have let him down gently if that kiss had been nothing to her.
It was who they were.
But even knowing what she would have done, he couldn’t figure out what she was doing.
And are too much of a coward to ask.
He went to work. He went back to the Martin house. He helped with Christmas prep—often picking up things at various stores that Pen texted him. Not that she ever asked him to do anything in person. She always waited until he was at work and sent him a text.
He let her avoid, and did a lot of avoiding himself. He convinced himself it was the answer no matter how he felt heavier each day. It was just Christmas was all.
The Christmas season was never the best of times at work. The stress and loneliness of the season often brought out the worst in people already barely holding on. It weighed on Ethan every year, reminding him of things he’d promised himself he’d forgotten or let go.
He found himself going back to his apartment after work, changing into normal clothes and then just…being alone.
It was a bad habit. A spiral he kne
w better than to indulge in, but that kiss with Pen and all the Christmas cheer that choked him everywhere he went fought against that reasonable knowledge.
Tonight was worse. Christmas was just days away, and he’d never been a fan of Christmas. He usually went and visited his sister’s grave after work. Then went home and wished for New Year’s Day when this would all end. Usually, he got through it because he could. Because he refused not to.
But this year a phone call from a friend he’d made at the prison his father was at made everything worse. The heads-up on what was likely coming.
Dad was getting out next month. Good behavior. After what he’d done.
Sometimes Ethan wondered why he’d dedicated his life to upholding the law, when lawyers and judges and a corrupt system undermined it half the time.
The knock at the door made him sigh. This gray fog around him wasn’t healthy; he knew that. But he could handle it. Once the calendar changed over to a new year everything would be fine and back to normal.
Except Dad would be out.
He stared at the door wishing he could ignore it. Maybe it was just Colt worried about him. He hadn’t even told Colt he’d kissed Pen. Of course, Pen had probably told Sadie, which meant Colt knew. Unless Pen had kept it to herself too.
God, he hoped so. Hoped everyone kept it to themselves and forgot about it.
It could be Bracken, home a day early wanting to crash here instead of out at the farm, but he would have called.
When Ethan opened the door to Pen, he had to resist the urge to slam it in her face.
“I know I’m the last person you want to see,” she said in that maddeningly calm, pleasant way she’d been talking to him lately.
“Not the last,” Ethan muttered as she slid past him and into his apartment.
Pen wrinkled her nose as she slid off her jacket and laid it over the back of his kitchen chair. “This is stark.”
“I’ve been living at the farm.”
“I doubt that’s why it’s stark.” She turned to face him, clutching her purse in one hand. Her expression was placid and her voice was mild, but the death grip on her purse gave her away.
It didn’t seem she wanted to be here any more than he wanted her here.
Or how badly you want her here.
“Dad was worried about you, and I was at the hospital. They gave me a shorter cast and cleared me to drive.” She waved her arm in the air awkwardly. “So, I said I’d stop by on my way home. It looks like he was right to be worried. What are you doing? Didn’t you get off two hours ago?”
“It’s not the day, Pen. I just need to be alone. I’ll be out to the farm in a bit.” He pointed at the still-open door and when she crossed to him, he thought she meant to leave. She was actually going to listen and leave him be.
What had he done that she would do that?
He almost reached out to stop her. Beg her to stay, to talk things through.
But he’d never been a man who put his own needs before what had to be done. The call he’d received felt like a karmic reminder. Any fantasies he’d had about actually making something work had to die now.
Which meant she should go. If they avoided each other enough, this would all fade away. No hurt feelings. Nothing too complicated. A blip to be forgotten.
But Pen didn’t leave. She removed his hand from the door and closed it herself. With her still inside.
“The last thing you need is to be alone. Clearly.” She reached out and cupped his cheek, concern in her eyes as her thumb moved back and forth.
Ethan felt like she’d shattered all that strength inside of him. If he kept looking at her, he’d fall apart on the outside too. So, he turned away from her hand and her concern.
But all he could seem to do was press his palms against the wall, leaning against it with his eyes screwed shut, trying to fight it back into place. If he could get her to leave, everything would be okay. He’d put it all back into place. He just needed her to leave.
She didn’t, of course. Instead she pressed her hand to his back.
He wouldn’t break, wouldn’t allow himself to. But he’d never been so close to it. Not around Pen, or anyone. Except her mother.
Pen had never been Susannah. She didn’t take care of him. She hadn’t saved him.
But she leaned her cheek against his back, wrapped her good arm around him, and for a second he thought she would. He wanted her to fix this awfulness inside of him.
But no one could. He had to believe no one could, even while she touched him gently. Hugged him in comfort and care.
He wouldn’t survive it. It would break him. He’d go back to being…whatever he’d been before. Out of control and desperate. He’d built his life separate from the child he’d been. He couldn’t go back there.
She had to leave. Which meant the only way to survive, to get her away, was to be the opposite of what she was to him. No gentleness. No care.
He pushed off the wall, turning around to face her. She stepped back, startled, but he only grabbed her and pulled her back to him.
Then he kissed her. Not like he had a few weeks ago. No, he gave himself leave to kiss her any which way he pleased. Rough, greedy. Desperate. He poured too much into that kiss and he refused to care. It was wrong, but it would scare her into leaving. Into running away again.
Or you just desperately need her.
He pushed that voice away, even though it kept trying to win. Because she didn’t just take the kiss, she kissed him back. As if she had her own hurts and grief. Her good arm grasped his shoulder and she poured herself into him as if they were the only two people in the world.
For a few moments, he wanted to believe they were. So, he touched her. Instead of holding her, he slid his hands under her shirt. Moved his hands over the smooth skin of her abdomen, her back.
She sighed against his mouth. Like this was right and good instead of a mistake he couldn’t seem to stop himself from making.
“You don’t want this.” She couldn’t. He couldn’t help himself, but she could. Had to. “You can’t.”
“Yes, I do,” she replied, breathless and pulling at his T-shirt.
“Pen.”
“I do want this. I want you. And you want me.” She kissed him, devastated him inside and out. He tried to move away, but she held him in place.
“It can just be tonight,” she whispered. “That’s okay. Just tonight. Just us. I want you, Ethan. Even if it’s only once.”
He knew it for the lie it was, but he was too… He hated the word, but he felt fragile. And with every touch she swept that away until he felt alive again. Strong again.
I want you.
No one wanted him. No one asked him for more than he could give. He wouldn’t let them. Except Pen. Always Pen.
She tugged at his shirt again, and this time he pulled it off. She let out a shaky breath, placing her hand on his chest, splaying out her fingers.
Stop this. It was an echo in his mind, but no matter how much his brain seemed tethered to the real world, his body was here. With her. In this fantasy one.
He pulled off her shirt, making sure it didn’t tangle with her cast. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he could only stare like some kind of moronic pre-teen who didn’t know what to do when faced with breasts.
“Bras are a little hard with a cast.”
“I don’t mind.”
She laughed, and her smile was just for him. What was he doing?
“We shouldn’t do this.”
She stepped forward, wrapping both arms around him. She was warm and soft and she pressed herself against him, watching him the whole time with humor still curving her mouth. “Oh, Ethan. It’s too late for that.”
It was another lie. Just tonight. Too late. Of course it wasn’t, on either score, but she was so sure and that was the last thing he was tonight.
So, he kissed her anyway. Touched her. Told her she was beautiful and let himself go. He kissed her into his room, caressed her into his bed, and fo
rgot who and what he was when he entered her on a groan they shared.
The more he touched, tasted, the more she moved against him, the more whole he felt. Stitched together. Cured of all that jangled inside of him because there was only her and this.
She cried out her release with his name on her lips, and he followed. Everything that joining together with her had solved inside of him broke apart as they fell apart. She’d hollowed him out and taken away every battlement he’d built in years and years of building.
She curled up into him. Solace and strength and…
Very much not yours.
She had too many other people. Too much else. She thought she understood him, but it was only because he kept it all to himself.
Couldn’t you keep doing that?
He got off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom to take care of practicalities. When he returned, he didn’t let himself get sucked back in. It would be a bigger catastrophe than the one he’d already made.
He stood in the bathroom doorway, lead all the way through no matter how hard his heart beat against it.
She looked beautiful in his bed. Sleepy and rumpled and everything he’d ever wanted. And known he’d never ever have. Not even this. Something fleeting and wrong.
So wrong.
“You have to go,” he said gruffly.
She sat up in his bed, holding the sheet to her breast. She didn’t look startled or surprised or even hurt. She looked…resigned. “You’re going to tell me this was a mistake.”
“It was a mistake.” He didn’t have the wherewithal to tell her all the things he needed to. He didn’t have anything left. “I just need you to go.”
She began to gather her clothes and put them back on. The shorter cast had definitely made her a lot more mobile. But he found himself…surprised she wasn’t arguing.
“All right,” she said once she was dressed. The cool, regal way she said that felt like the nail in the coffin. It was over. His life with the Martins was perfectly and utterly destroyed. His own weaknesses failing him yet again.
She walked toward him, not the door. There wasn’t resignation in her eyes anymore. No, there was something closer to fire. But when she spoke it was so calm. Like she’d planned this all out. Like she knew exactly what steps she was taking.