She gasped and straightened with a smile. “The Elena who moved away for a while? I heard so much about you when we were together,” she cooed, turning to look at Ethan. “Speaking of our relationship, I was thinking maybe we could get coffee and talk sometime.”
It all clicked into place.
She was the ex-girlfriend who made him feel inadequate after the fire—the one who left him because he was burned. She was the monster who took his self-esteem and crushed it beneath her perfectly pedicured toes. I opened my mouth to start a verbal battle that would surely end up with her on the floor when Ethan spoke. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.
I was speechless. Was he considering? “I haven’t talked to you since the day I left. I just, like, feel like we didn’t end on good terms,” she said.
“Good terms?” I found myself mumbling. She sent me a side eyed glance before looking at Ethan again. I never thought I could feel so much hatred.
“We didn’t end on good terms,” Ethan said gently. “I’m happy where I am in life right now, so I’ll pass on the coffee date.”
I was partially satisfied that he turned her down, but did he have to be so generous about it? I clenched my teeth shut. She flushed and chuckled breathily. “I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time. I’ll try to catch up with you later,” she said politely. The girl had the audacity to look at me again and smile as if she held something over me. “It was nice meeting you.”
She turned and walked away as I silently fumed. Who did she think she was? I glared at Ethan. “I think we should leave,” I told him. I had what I truly needed, and I had ideas for everything else. “Now.”
He nodded. I turned and strutted toward the counter. If I saw her face one more time, there would be no nice words exchanged. In fact, I was confident that she would have a black eye by the end of the encounter. I was not a fighter. I was not confrontational, but when somebody hurt someone who meant something to me, I was an entirely different person.
We checked out and I paid with my business card. Ethan argued, but I explained to him how my billing was done, and that he would ultimately be paying the agreed bill.
When the wood was loaded into Ethan’s truck, I climbed in the passenger’s seat and turned to him. “After what she did to you, how could you be so nice to her?” I asked.
His brows furrowed as he looked at me. “How do you know what she did to me?” he asked. His face loosened as he realized. “Sylvia?”
I nodded but continued. “How could you let someone treat you that way and be civil to them?”
“Are you jealous?” I knew his words were said to deflect my questioning, but I still considered his accusation. Jealous wasn’t necessarily the right word to use, but I was hurt that there was somebody else who could lay claim to him. What did that mean for me?
“No,” I said. I couldn’t tell if it sounded truthful or not. “Why would you be so kind to her? Seriously, Ethan.”
He looked at his lap. “I can’t be rude to a woman. It’s how I was raised, and no matter what, I can’t hurt one. And Taylor… she was there for me for a long time,” he told me.
I shook my head. “Being there for a long time doesn’t justify leaving when things get a little difficult,” I shouted.
He looked up at me, and when I made eye contact with his gentle brown eyes, I realized something that he’d never say to me, though I knew we were both aware of it. I was guilty of leaving the same way Taylor was. When my career became impossible without moving, I left. I left our budding relationship behind without a second thought. I may not have left him broken and scarred, but I left when the going got rough.
Neither of us said a word as we looked at each other. I nodded and faced forward in my seat. “Promise me you won’t meet her,” I asked him.
He nodded and put the truck in gear. “I promise.”
The entire ride back to his house, I considered what I was doing with him. Was I dragging him along to once again leave when it was most convenient for me? I stood by my theory that two damaged people couldn’t make a healthy relationship, but what if we worked through our problems? I glanced at Ethan from the corner of my eye. Neither his single-handed driving nor the straight look on his face was extraordinary, but it struck a chord within me.
I’d avoided men for so long out of respect for Bruce, but at some point, I needed to move on.
Chapter Seven
Contrary to my initial assumptions, Ethan was far from inexperienced with power tools. The skies were overcast, and rain was quickly approaching and likely to continue constantly for the next week. In a hurry, I set up my sander and power saw in Ethan’s front yard. Rather than staying away and doing his own thing, he insisted on helping in whatever way he could. I took measurements of what I needed and marked where each piece of wood was to be cut. Ethan didn’t ask questions as he made the proper cuts and sanded each piece of wood.
I labeled each piece of wood with the measurements and their pile number, so as he did the cutting, I stained it a rich, dark brown. We were nearly done when the sound of pouring rain
