Chapter 76: Fragile Bonds Ethan POV

I leaned against the kitchen counter, my fingers drumming on the edge as Sophia stood by the window, peering out at Jake’s car, the headlights cutting through the dusk. I grabbed a bottle of red wine from the rack, twisting the corkscrew into it with a quick turn, the pop loud in the quiet apartment as I pulled it free. "He’s here," she muttered, her voice tight, brushing the blinds back into place with a flick of her wrist.

"Let him stew," I said, pouring the wine into two glasses, the deep red glugging out, swirling as I set the bottle down with a soft thud. I walked over, my socks silent on the hardwood, handing her a glass, my fingers brushing hers as she took it, the contact sparking a familiar warmth.

She turned, clutching the glass, her thumb rubbing the stem. "I should go talk to him," she said, her voice shaky, stepping toward the door, her sneakers scuffing the floor.

I grabbed her arm, my grip gentle but firm, pulling her back. "Stay, Soph—just for a bit," I said, my tone low, guiding her to the living room, nudging the coffee table aside with my knee. "He’ll figure it out."

She hesitated, sipping the wine, her lips staining faintly red as she set it on the table with a clink. "Okay," she murmured, sinking onto the floor beside me, crossing her legs, her knee brushing mine as I sat, the blanket from the couch pooling around us.

I clinked my glass against hers, the chime sharp in the stillness, taking a sip, the tartness lingering on my tongue. "To surviving," I said, setting it down, my hand resting on hers, my fingers lacing through hers, the warmth of her skin steadying me.

"Surviving," she echoed, her voice soft, squeezing my hand back, her free hand brushing crumbs off her jeans from earlier. "Barely."

I shifted closer, my shoulder nudging hers, the TV flickering in the background, a muted weather report droning on about rain. "Maybe we’re both broken," I said, my tone soft, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, tossing it behind us with a flick, leaning back against it.

She laughed, a small, shaky sound, brushing her hair back with her fingers, tucking it behind her ear. "Broken’s one way to put it," she replied, sipping her wine again, setting it down with a soft clatter, her hand lingering near mine.

I grabbed the bottle, topping off her glass, the wine splashing slightly as I poured, then refilled mine, clinking them again. "To fixing it, then," I said, my hand sliding to her wrist, my thumb brushing her pulse, feeling it quicken under my touch.

She smiled faintly, leaning into me, her head resting on my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. "Fixing’s harder," she whispered, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, her voice trembling slightly.

"Yeah," I agreed, setting my glass down, my arm wrapping around her, pulling her closer, her body fitting against mine like a puzzle piece. "But we’ve got time."

She nodded, her hand brushing my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt, the tenderness deepening the air between us. "Time," she repeated, grabbing the blanket, pulling it over our legs, her elbow brushing my side as she adjusted it.

I grabbed a coaster from the table, sliding it under my glass with a scrape, my free hand resting on her knee, squeezing gently. "You’re pulling me through this, Soph," I said, my voice low, my eyes flicking to hers, catching the glint of the lamp in them.

She shifted, her face tilting up, her lips close to mine, her breath mingling with the wine’s scent. "You’re doing the same," she murmured, her hand sliding to my neck, her fingers brushing my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine.

I leaned in, my forehead resting against hers, my hand cupping her cheek, my thumb tracing her lip. "Good," I whispered, my lips brushing hers, soft and tentative, the moment tender, raw, a lifeline in the wreckage of Argus.

She pressed closer, her hand tightening on my neck, her kiss deepening for a heartbeat before she pulled back, grabbing her glass, sipping fast, her cheeks flushing. "We shouldn’t," she said, her voice shaky, brushing her hair back again, her eyes darting away.

I nodded, grabbing my own glass, draining it in one gulp, the wine burning my throat as I set it down with a thud. "Maybe not," I said, my hand still on her knee, my fingers tapping a restless beat, the loss of Argus gnawing at me despite her pull.

She grabbed the remote, clicking the TV off, the room dimming, the silence wrapping around us. "I just... Jake," she started, folding her hands in her lap, her nails digging into her palms.

"I get it," I cut in, standing, pacing to the kitchen, grabbing the wine bottle, pouring another splash into my glass, the liquid sloshing. "He’s still there—I’m not asking you to forget him."

She followed, leaning against the counter, brushing crumbs off her shirt, her voice soft. "I don’t want to hurt him—or you."

"You’re not," I said, turning, setting the bottle down with a clink, my hand brushing her arm as I stepped closer. "You’re here—that’s enough."

She nodded, grabbing my hand, squeezing it, her fingers trembling slightly. "Enough," she echoed, leaning into me again, her head on my chest, my arms wrapping around her, the bond tightening despite the ghosts haunting us both.

I grabbed a dish towel, wiping a stray drop of wine off the counter, tossing it into the sink with a flick, my other hand rubbing her back. "Stay tonight," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my lips brushing her hair.

"Okay," she replied, pulling back, grabbing her glass, sipping the last of it, setting it down with a soft tap. "One more night."

I smiled, grabbing a sketchbook from the table, flipping it open with a rustle, doodling a quick line as we sat back on the floor, her shoulder against mine. "Good," I said, my pencil scratching the paper, her presence easing the ache of losing everything.

A knock rattled the door, sharp and sudden, breaking the quiet. I set the sketchbook down, standing, my socks sliding as I walked over, pulling it open with a creak—Jake stood there, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing, ready to swing.