CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LENA

I woke up to the faint scent of lavender and the heavy weight of a muscled arm draped over my waist. It took a moment for my groggy mind to process, but I couldn’t remember the last time I woke up with a guy in my bed. I usually didn’t do sleepovers.

The arm was surprisingly nice, though—strong, solid, and comforting. It felt like it could protect me from anything, and the person attached to it smelled incredible.

I let out a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling closer to the warmth beside me. I kept my eyes closed, not quite ready to leave the cocoon of comfort and face the harsh reality of the day.

The arm tightened around me, pulling me even closer until my back pressed flush against a hard, muscular chest.

My lips curved involuntarily when he let out a low, drowsy rumble and buried his face into the back of my neck.

A warm flutter spread low in my stomach as I felt the hard, sculpted lines of his body mold against my softer curves.

Who was he? Did we have sex last night?

My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders just yet, and the thought of sifting through the blurry memories of the past twenty-four hours felt too overwhelming so early in the morning.

I stretched lazily, my hand grazing something soft and fluffy. Curiosity got the better of me, and I cracked one eye open. I spotted a folded hand towel on the bed next to me.

Wait, what was I doing with a towel in-

Vermont. Room mix-up. Ski lessons. Period. Ethan. Massage.

My brain finally clicked into gear, and the events of yesterday rushed back at lightning speed.

I snapped my eyes wide open. If Ethan and I were sharing a room, then that meant the arm around my waist...

"Aaaah!" I scrambled out of bed, pushing him away in a panic, only to slam my shin into the nightstand in my haste.

One day, I’d look back on this moment and cringe at the undignified scream, but right now, all I could think about was the fact that I had just woken up in bed with Ethan Hale. Technically, we hadn't done anything else—thankfully—but still.

"Jesus." He groaned and covered his eyes with his forearm. The sheets slipped down, exposing his bare, muscled chest. "It’s too early for your banshee impression, Red."

I huffed in rapid indignation. "You were cuddling me," I shot back. "And you’re not wearing a shirt!"

I forced my gaze to stay on his face instead of letting it wander to the way his muscles flexed with each movement. Lean and powerful, his muscles spoke of someone who’d built them through outdoor activities and sports, not hours in a gym.

Broad shoulders, defined pecs, a glimpse of his six-pack abs peeking out from under the rumpled sheet around his waist... Stop it.

"You were warm and there. It was instinct," Ethan said, yawning and stretching his arms overhead. "Nice to see you're still alive, I guess. You were barely functioning yesterday."

Despite his casual tone, he scanned me carefully, his sharp gaze seeming to search for any lingering signs of the pain I’d been in the night before.

Thankfully, my periods were usually only unbearable for about twenty-four hours. After that, the pain calmed to normal cramps.

I'd been dealing with them since I was eleven and had learned how to schedule my life around the start of my period.

This month's had started four days early, though, which was why I’d been so caught off guard.

"Yes, well, you can’t get rid of me that easily." Some of my frustration ebbed as I remembered what Ethan had done for me the night before.

I still wasn’t sure whether it was his technique or simply the comfort of having someone take care of me—since I usually hated being around anyone on the first day of my period—but his massage had eased my pain more effectively than anything else I’d tried over the years.

He must have also made the hot towel compress after I passed out.

He didn’t have to do any of that, but for some reason, he did.

"Thank you." My words came out a mix of grudging and sincere. "For... you know." I gestured vaguely at my stomach.

I expected Ethan to gloat at my first-ever thank you, but instead, he simply replied, "You're welcome."

A quiet stillness settled between us. I nervously pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, suddenly aware of how bloated I felt from my period. I probably looked a mess, my face groggy from sleep, and my hair in tangled disarray.

But instead of looking away, Ethan’s gaze stayed fixed on me. His stare was intense, burrowing deep beneath my skin and sparking a heat low in my stomach, similar to the feeling that had burned through me before I drifted to sleep last night.

I had been on the edge of unconsciousness, but the mix of his strong hands, warm eyes, and the relief from my pain had sent my thoughts spiraling down paths I had no business exploring.

I couldn’t help but fantasize about what his touch would feel like on other parts of my body, or whether his tongue was as skilled as his hands...

A knock on the door jolted me out of my inappropriate thoughts.

Ethan and I immediately broke eye contact. The tension in his shoulders mirrored the tightness in my own muscles. We hadn’t done anything wrong, but it still felt like the moment had been interrupted—like I was a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

Ava’s voice drifted through the thick oak door. "You guys up? Breakfast ends in half an hour."

My gaze shot to the clock on the wall. Shit. We'd slept in later than I thought.

"Yeah," I said. "We'll be right out."

Ethan and I didn't speak again while we got ready. There was no way I was skiing today, so I pulled on a pair of soft yoga pants and an oversized sweater. When I was on my period, my desire to dress up plummeted to zero.

"How are you feeling?" Ava asked as we walked to breakfast.

"Much better." Thanks to your brother. "Thanks, babe." She looped her arm through mine. "How do you feel about hitting the spa after breakfast instead of skiing? We have that gift card we still need to use."

Oh, thank fucking God. "Ava," I said. "Don't tell Alex, but you're the real genius in the relationship." She laughed.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur, with Alex and Ethan skiing and me and Ava enjoying the spa's massage and facial services. But even though my massage therapist was professionally trained, she didn't hit the spot the way Ethan had.

"A little to the left, please...to the right...just a bit harder..." I tried my best to pinpoint what was off about my session.

"Like this?" The therapist followed my instructions to a tee, but it still didn't compare to Ethan's touch. "How does this feel?"

"Great," I mumbled, giving up. "Thank you." Maybe it was the oil Ethan used. It smelled better than

the floral ones at the spa.

By the time Ava and I met up with the guys for lunch, I was more irritated than relaxed by my constant thoughts of a certain doctor.

I wouldn't put it past him to mix some sort of sex potion with the massage oil before he used it on me. That was the only plausible explanation for why I kept thinking about him.

There had to be a catch for why he'd been so nice.

"How was the spa?" Alex rested his hand on the back of Ava's chair and brushed his lips over her cheek.

"It was great." She smiled, her face glowing with so much love it made my chest ache. "How was skiing? Did you guys do the triple black again?"

"Yes," Ethan said at the same time Alex replied, "No. I went snowboarding."

"Oh." Ava's eyes darted between them. "Okay."

Awkward as fuck.

We settled into silence as we flipped through our menus. Ethan sat next to me, and every time either of us moved, our legs brushed against each other.

Signature burger, pan-roasted salmon...

His pants wisped over my calves. I set my jaw and tried to focus. Pan-roasted salmon with fennel salad...

He reached for his glass, his shirt sleeve grazing my hand as he did so.

I yanked my arm back and stared determinedly at the list of entrees. Pan-roasted salmon with fennel salad...

When our server appeared, bright-eyed and perky, I'd read the same dish description a dozen times.

"I'll have the salmon," I muttered after everyone placed their orders. "Thanks."

I despised salmon.

I shot Ethan a glare, irritated with him. If he hadn’t distracted me, I’d have made it through the menu and ordered something I actually liked.

His eyebrows lifted. "Back to your usual self, huh?" he said while Alex and Ava quietly chatted across from us. "I’ve missed that look of irritation on your face. It’s like a balm to my soul."

"That’s because you’re used to seeing it from everyone who crosses your path."

Arguing with Ethan felt as familiar as slipping into old jeans—comfortable and easy.

Ethan’s cheek dimpled. "Nah. Just you, Red. Everyone else loves me."

"I highly doubt that."

Just then, my phone buzzed with a new text, offering a welcome distraction. But as I read it, confusion furrowed my brow.

Unknown: Hey Lena

The area code was from Ohio.

Suddenly, everything around me seemed to disappear as the buzzing in my ears grew louder. I typed my response with shaky fingers.

Me: Who is this?

A mix of hope, fear, and unease churned in my stomach. Maybe it was my mom...

It felt like an eternity before the reply finally appeared. When it did, I nearly dropped my phone in shock.

Unknown: It’s Max

Max. My ex-boyfriend. How did he get my number? Why was he reaching out after seven years of silence?

There was only one reason for him to contact me now, and just the thought of it made my stomach churn.

Max: We need to talk.

I shoved my phone into my bag, my palms slick with sweat. I wiped them against my thighs, trying to calm myself.

"Hey."

Ethan’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

He leaned forward, a furrow in his brow that could have passed for concern if it weren’t for the fact it was coming from him.

"Who was that? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

He glanced at my bag, where my phone was still burning through the leather.

I wasn’t answering Max. I didn’t want to know what he had to say. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d disappear again for another seven years. Forget diamonds—denial was a better friend to me right now.

"No one. Just spam," I lied.

Ethan didn’t push the issue, but I could feel his gaze on me for the rest of the meal, heavy and probing.

I lifted a forkful of salmon to my mouth, but it tasted like cardboard.

I couldn’t stop thinking: Max probably still had the tape. He’d kept it for years—what if he was finally ready to use it? What if I couldn’t meet his demands?

If he released that tape, it would destroy my career before it even began. Everything I’d worked for would be gone in an instant.

My stomach twisted, but it wasn’t just from cramps.

I’m going to be sick.

I quickly pushed my chair back and rushed to the bathroom, ignoring the surprised looks from my friends. I barely made it to a stall before I lost my lunch. Even after I was done, I kept dry-heaving until my throat was sore.

I thought I’d outrun my past, but our demons always catch up with us.