But at some point into our fourth episode, Ethan gets up and makes another bag of popcorn and refills our waters. When he returns, his expression is somber like it was earlier today.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, then immediately slap myself on the forehead. He jumps, startled, but I continue. “I’m so stupid. Obviously, I know what’s wrong. I mean, I don’t know know, but I can guess. I’m sorry. I’m bad at this.”
“Bad at what?” he asks.
“Comforting,” I say sheepishly, shrugging my shoulders.
He softens. “You don’t have to comfort me, Connie. Sorry, Abby.”
I frown. “How come you did always call me Connie? Even Beth stopped calling me that by the time I started advocating for myself.”
A small smile flickers on Ethan’s lips. Whoa, Doyle. Don’t think lips. “I just liked to rile you up. You were a feisty kid.”
“I’m still pretty feisty,” I say, frowning.
“Hey, I’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m too abrasive. I’ve gotten better, though.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve always been a sweet kid. You were just fun to pick on. It made life interesting.”
“Thanks for bullying me.”
“I did not ‘bully’ you,” he retorts.
I shift on the couch, turning my body to face him rather than the TV. “Can I ask you something?”
He turns a little toward me as well. My toes almost touch his knee. “Shoot.”
I bite my lip. “What did you find out? About your mom? If it’s none of my business, I understand.”
He sighs a laugh. “It’s nothing I didn’t expect. I overreacted.”
I sit patiently, hoping he’ll tell me.
He pauses, then admits, “Her MS is progressing. Things are going to get worse from here on out.”
I exhale. Poor Mrs. Perry. Poor Ethan. “I’m so sorry.”
“The worst part is, it’s not just her I’m worried about. I mean, of course I’m afraid of my mom suffering, and how we’re going to afford everything, and all that jazz. But part of me…”
He stares into the popcorn bowl. “You’re going to think I’m an awful person.”
“Bring it on,” I challenge.
Only a faint smile touches his lips, gone as soon as it appears. “Part of me thought, ‘Now I really can’t leave.’”
“Lake Redwood? Or your mom’s house?”
“Both?” He rubs a hand over his face, groaning. He must be exhausted. “I love Lake Redwood. And I love my mom. I do. And I love this house.”
“I know,” I say. “Seriously, you don’t have to convince me.”
“I feel like I’m convincing myself,” he grumbles. “I’m an awful son.”
“Did your mom ask you to come home?”
“No, of course not. She told me I could leave at any time when I moved home to help her. But she hasn’t said anything about it in months. I think she knows she needs all the help she can get.
“And of course,” he continues, “I want to help her.”
“I know.”
“I’m just tired.”
“That’s natural, dude.”
He seems to emerge from his grief just a little bit, a small reluctant curl at his lips. “Don’t call me dude when I’m wallowing in self-pity.”
I smile back. “It honestly just popped out.”
His smile broadens a little, then fades again. “I love it here, but I feel…stuck.”
I nod. “Believe me, I know all about that.”
His frown deepens, which makes me uneasy. “That’s also why I…” Ethan sighs. “Abby, you should forget about your Mark. Text Greg. Tell him you’re never getting together with your soulmate.”
I stare at him. “Um.”
Ethan chews on the inside of his cheek, and I watch his jaw work before my attention turns to his hand as it rolls up his left sleeve. There, his Mark glitters.
“Mom was excited for me when I got my Mark,” he says, smiling sardonically. “But it’s fine. Sometimes, maybe soulmates shouldn’t be together. Like your parents, right?”
I frown. Hesitantly, I roll my sleeve up too, baring it to the dimly lit room. The only light comes from the television and his Mark. I wonder if mine glows for him. Judging from the way his Adam’s apple bobs, I think it does.
“Can I…?” Ethan stretches a hand out halfway between us. I shift, face on fire and heart pounding, turning my shoulder toward him. A warm finger, slightly stained with butter, traces the Mark.
I feel like I’ve fallen into some reality that’s not my own. Gravity has shifted. The sky is full of glitter instead of stars. I can’t seem to catch my breath.
“The glow’s gone now,” Ethan murmurs. “Now that we’ve made contact.”
I breathe a laugh, nearly choke on it. “You make it sound like we’re aliens.”
Looking over my shoulder, I catch his smile. It’s melancholy, the ends of it weighed down by something I can’t share the burden of. “I guess mine glows for you, too, huh?”
I nod.
“You can touch it,” he says, pulling his warm finger from my skin and turning his shoulder toward me. “It’ll make the glow go away.”
“I know what it’ll do.” But, for some reason, I hesitate. I don’t know why. I mean, yeah, touching someone’s Mark is intimate, but that’s no reason why I should be all choked up right now. Get it together, Doyle.
“When did you realize I’m your soulmate?” I ask him. Even as we sit, I have to look up at him, especially when we’re as close as we are right now.
“Remember when I hit my head?”
I think back, then gasp. “No way! All the way back then?”
“I was so surprised. I mean, I was surprised from the get-go. Constance Abigail Doyle, all grown up. But you being my soulmate?” Ethan shakes his head. “What are the odds?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He lifts a brow. “Why should I? You obviously hated the fact that you were Marked. And thanks to our rocky friendship, I knew you wouldn’t be happy knowing it was me.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I realize I might not have been. Ethan’s always been a good man, but it would have definitely required some time for me to get used to the idea of me and him being soulmates.
“You never knew, right?” he says.
Pausing, I look back at the screen. Jim’s done another of his pranks.
“Abby, you knew?” he asks, sounding shocked.
I turn back to him, wincing. “Sorry. I found out when we were on the boat.”
“But I had my shirt - oh.”
Still wincing, I say, “Yeah.”
Sighing, he says, “Well, it’s not like I can be mad about it or anything. I lied to you first.”
“It wasn’t a lie. It was an…omission.”
“Is there much of a difference?” Ethan asks.
“Yes,” I say primly. “You were trying to be kind.”
Curious, he asks, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
I bite my lip. Immediately, he tells me, “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Bite your lip. It makes you bleed all the time.”
I frown, dipping my tongue out. Yup. That’s blood.
“Sorry, that’s gross,” I say, grimacing.
“I just don’t like seeing you hurt yourself, that’s all.”
Oh.
I look up at him. He looks down at me. His eyes seem dark in the shadows. They dart to my lips quickly before returning to meet my gaze.
“Thanks,” he says, voice low, “for being here tonight.”
This is territory I can’t handle trekking through. “I’m glad to be.” My voice has a breathy quality I don’t recognize in myself. In romantic moments in movies, sure. But never me. With Greg, I’d always babbled out of nervousness in the beginning or teased lightly during moments like…whatever this is.
“You never answered my question.”
/>
I blink. “What question?”
His lips finally, finally curl into a real smile, but it’s not his usual one. It has a quality to it that gives me shivers. Good shivers. “Why didn’t you tell me you figured out I was your soulmate?”
Immediately, I bristle. He never told me.
Before I can even make myself stand down, he immediately clarifies, “I’m not accusing you. I’m just curious.”
Oh. Well, in that case…
“I’ve just been kind of…processing, I guess. I always assumed my soulmate was someone I would meet in New York, never in Lake Redwood. And to realize it was you… Plus, you know, all the stuff with Greg, and God, all the soulmate stuff I whined about right in front of you…! I was shocked and embarrassed and I don’t know what else.”
Hesitating, I say, “I’m sorry.” I shouldn’t. He lied - omitted, rather - just like I did. Still, it pops out anyway.
“Hey,” he says, looking at me softly. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I should have told you from the beginning.”
I shrug. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference back then if he told me or not.
Ethan hesitates, then says, “Go ahead and text Greg.”
For a moment, I don’t know what he means. But his expression is so somber that when it clicks, it’s like a punch in the gut.
“Oh,” I breathe, then swallow. My voice can’t sound that weak. I can’t be that weak. “I’m…”
Of course. This is what I always figured. Ethan knows me well, after all. He doesn’t even need to spend time with me to know that it’s a terrible idea to get involved with me. I mean, Greg’s probably glad he’s off the hook too. I don’t know what I was expecting. What was I expecting?
I feel like I’m choking. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman who don’t need no man, especially not an arbitrarily assigned soulmate. There’s no reason for any of this.
“I got it. I’ll go.”
“Yeah, I think both of us probably don’t feel like watching The Office right now,” Ethan chuckles, but it feels like it’s from far away. My own blood rushes through my ears as I nearly spill my water and grab my purse.
“Don’t forget your - Abby?”
Whatever he’s going to say, I don’t need to hear it. There are a thousand things he probably hasn’t said to me, a thousand excuses, and I can guess every one. I know my flaws well enough to know why someone else shouldn’t have to put up with them. Shutting him out, I ignore him calling my name as I head to the front door, shove my shoes on, and leave as quickly as I can.
Chapter 12
I don’t expect it to be pouring again. I also don’t expect Ethan Perry to follow me out.
“Hey!” he calls from his front door, but I can’t bother. I’m halfway down the driveway when I realize crap, I forgot my bike. As quickly as I can, I head back up and grab it. I need to get away. I’ve embarrassed myself so much, it’s painful. It hurts so much.
As I pull my bike away from the house, a hand grabs my wrist. It doesn’t hurt. It’s actually comforting, a warmth in the cold rain. My hair plasters itself against my face as I turn and face Ethan.
“What are you doing?”
“You said I should go,” I say over the rain. “I’m going.”
“Yeah, but not like this. What’s going on? Why are you upset?”
“I’m not upset,” I hiss, yanking my hand away, feeling the warmth of his skin wash away from me under the raindrops. “I’m fine.”
He frowns at me, but I can’t tell if it’s because of me or because he’s getting soaked. “No, you’re not. Is it because I brought up Greg? I’m sorry. I thought maybe there’d be a chance for the two of you.”
“That’s not…Forget it, Ethan, okay? Please? I’m fine. I get why you wouldn’t want to be with me or be my soulmate or anything like that. It makes sense.”
“What? Who said I don’t want to be your soulmate?” He looks so stupefied that I almost believe him.
“It’s obvious,” I laugh, trying to keep it from sounding too bitter. I don’t know if I succeed. “You just told me to call my ex to get back together.”
Water splashes as he slaps his forehead. “That’s not…Look. Let’s go inside and dry off, okay?”
“No, thanks. I’ll just go home and get out of your hair.”
“You left your backpack and Roku here anyway,” he points out.
Crap. I pause, considering.
“It’ll be ten times more awkward for both of us if you have to come get it another day,” Ethan adds.
Ugh. He’s right. “Okay,” I grumble. I try to ignore his relieved smile. It does something to my stomach. Instead, I gesture for him to go in first as I lean my bike against the siding once more. He gives me a look instead.
“I’m not going to run,” I snap. “Just go.”
He raises a brow skeptically but walks ahead of me toward the open door. I follow, relieved immediately when I step inside the house. The lack of AC in this place actually feels really nice after the chill of the rain.
“You should dry off. Do you have something to change into?”
“Yeah, I’ve got pajamas,” I say. When he does a double-take, I quickly clarify. “I just didn’t know if our marathon would go all night, that’s all!”
“Abby Doyle, were you trying to seduce me?”
Yeah, Ethan’s feeling better. I’m certainly not. In fact, the idea of him even laughing at the idea just makes things worse.
“Don’t be stupid,” I grumble, grabbing my clothes from my backpack. “Your bathroom’s over there, right?”
He’s stopped smiling. I guess he realized I don’t appreciate his humor right now. “Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll be back. Unless you want to change first.”
“No, no, go ahead.”
I pause, then go off. I change hastily; being naked in someone else’s home feels odd, indecent. As soon as I change, I exit and find him on the couch, chin in his hand, deep in thought. When I approach, he seems to shake himself out of it. “That’s not going to help you. Hang on.”
He grabs another t-shirt and shorts - he must have grabbed them while I was changing, and walks past me, too close for comfort. When he closes the bathroom door, I quickly shove my clothes into my backpack and fiddle with a pillow, nervous energy filling me. Thoughts pour through my head, but it’s the emotion behind them that overwhelms me, making it impossible to sift through one by one. Why can’t I ever just calm down?
The world goes black. A high-pitched squeal escapes me, and immediately I hear Ethan laugh. “Wow. I didn’t think I would be able to sneak up on you.”
I frown, pulling fabric off my head. The paused episode of The Office shifts back into view, and I look at my hands. A towel. I quickly pat down my hair, squeezing the dampness out.
Ethan’s got a towel of his own. He doesn’t seem to care about messing up his hair, that’s for sure; he ruffles it through like he’s drying off a dog. When he sits down next to me, I feel the couch creak under his weight.
“So,” he says, “want to tell me what that was about?”
“What?” I ask innocently.
Ethan scowls. “Why were you so upset that I didn’t want to be your soulmate?”
I purse my lips. “Look,” I say, “it’s not like I blame you or anything. I know what I’m like, and I’m sorry you were paired with someone like me. I get it.”
“Then why were you crying out there?”
I scoff, horrified and indignant. “I was not crying.”
“You sure looked like you were.”
“It was raining,” I hiss. “Water happens.”
“I’m not making fun of you - “
“I wasn’t - !”
“I just want to know why you were upset at the idea of me not wanting to be your soulmate.”
I search for mockery in his face, but there’s only a searching look reflected back at me.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” I murmur, looking awa
y. There’s no way I can say this looking straight at him. “For not wanting me, I mean.”
“Why not?” he asks softly. It’s so kind it makes me want to actually cry.
“Because I’m not good enough.”
“For what?”
“For you,” I say, gesturing wildly. “Everyone. I don’t know. I mean, you’ve spent enough time with other people. You know I’m not exactly in the top ten percent of desirable companions.”
“Says who?”
“Anyone! I mean, you hang out with my sister all the time! Why shouldn’t you - or anyone else, for that matter - feel like you’d have to settle for me?”
“Settling? Really?”
I flinch. He’s lost that patient, almost therapist-like tone. Now, he just sounds annoyed, almost personally insulted.
“Do you realize the thoughts going through my head when I saw you following Beth?” he demands. “No, actually look at me, Abby.”
I can’t.
“Constance.”
Freaking -
I glance up at him, wrapping the towel around my neck like it’ll protect me against cold as well as his irritation.
“I thought,” he says patiently, pinning me with his gaze, “that I have very few friends nowadays. Beth is one. If I confessed I was interested in her kid sister, she’d probably hit me.”
My entire being feels like it’s being rung out like a damp towel. I swallow hard. “She would not,” I manage to say. “I was the violent one in the family.”
“Oh, that you knew of,” he retorts with a snort. “Jen stopped bullying you in high school, didn’t she?”
I nod.
“Beth slashed her tires.”
I laugh.
He doesn’t.
…What.
“She did not,” I gasp.
“Did, too. Smiled like a maniac when she told me, too.”
“She could’ve gotten sued! Or arrested!”
“Could’ve, but I think Jen realized that if good old Beth Doyle slashed her tires, she’d snapped, and that would not end well for anyone.”
I lean back against the couch, exhaling. “Holy…”
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