Chapter 179
Amelia
The fluorescent lights of the underground training room cast harsh shadows across the mats where Ethan and I had just finished our sparring session. My muscles ached with a satisfying burn, sweat cooling on my skin as I sat cross-legged on the training mat. The physical exertion had cleared my mind somewhat, but memories of my grandfather still flooded back, filling the quiet space between us.
"You know," I said, twisting the cap off my water bottle, "when I was a little girl, I got really sick with pneumonia. High fever, the whole thing. The doctors wanted to keep me overnight for observation, but Grandpa William refused to leave me in the hospital alone."
Ethan sat down beside me, his breathing still slightly elevated from our workout. His eyes never left my face as I continued.
"He was running Thompson Enterprises then, at the peak of his career. But he sat in that uncomfortable hospital chair for three straight nights, holding my hand whenever I woke up confused or scared." I took a sip of water, feeling the tightness in my throat. "No matter how busy he was, he always made me feel like I was his priority."
"He loved you," Ethan said simply.
I nodded, pulling my knees to my chest. "After reading his journals and watching those family videos... I feel both warmed and gutted. He gave me so much, protected me from so much. And I never really got to thank him properly."
"I think he knew," Ethan said, his voice soft but certain.
Something about his certainty, the quiet conviction in his voice, broke the last of my restraint. I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt the first tear drop onto the mat between my legs. I tried to wipe them away quickly, embarrassed by this unexpected vulnerability.
Ethan noticed immediately. He turned toward me, reaching out to gently brush his thumb across my cheek, catching a tear before it could fall.
"You have me, Amelia," he said, his voice impossibly tender. "You don't need to hold everything inside. You can be real with me."
Those simple words unlocked something in my chest. A sob escaped before I could stop it, and then another. I leaned forward into Ethan's chest, my shoulders shaking as years of controlled emotions finally found release. His arms came around me immediately, strong and secure, one hand cradling the back of my head as I cried against his shirt.
The dim training room became a sanctuary as I let myself break down completely. Ethan didn't try to shush me or offer empty reassurances. He just held me, solid and present, letting me feel whatever I needed to feel.
We stayed like that for what felt like ages, his hand gently stroking my hair, his steady heartbeat against my ear grounding me through the storm of emotions. I hadn't allowed myself to cry like this in years—not since my grandfather's funeral, and even then, I'd kept it controlled, dignified. This was different. This was raw and messy and real.
When my sobs finally quieted to occasional hiccups, Ethan pulled back just enough to look at my face. His thumb brushed away the wetness on my cheeks, his eyes full of a tenderness I rarely allowed myself to fully acknowledge.
"Let me take care of you," he said softly, his forehead resting against mine. "Let me help you feel something else, even if just for a little while."
The gentle concern in his voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I nodded, grateful for the offering—not just of physical comfort, but of permission to let someone else carry my burden, even momentarily.
Before I could respond further, his lips brushed against mine, initially just a tentative, gentle touch, then increasingly urgent. I melted into him, grateful for the distraction, for the way his touch could pull me out of my head and into my body.
Ethan broke the kiss long enough to stand and lock the door, then dimmed the main lights until only the soft glow from the emergency exit signs illuminated the room. When he returned to me, his eyes had darkened with intent.
"Here?" I whispered, suddenly aware of where we were.
"Here," he confirmed, pulling me to him again. "Now."
The training mat beneath us was firm but forgiving as Ethan lowered me onto my back. Our workout clothes disappeared quickly, and in the dim light, we found each other. Each touch, each kiss was both an escape and a grounding, pulling me firmly into the present moment and away from painful memories.
Afterward, I lay breathless in Ethan's arms, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow. For the first time in days, my mind was blissfully, perfectly quiet.
"Better?" Ethan asked, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my bare shoulder.
I nodded against his chest, not quite trusting my voice yet. We stayed like that for several minutes before reluctantly gathering our clothes and making ourselves presentable again.
Ethan insisted on carrying me out, despite my protests that I could walk perfectly fine. As we emerged from the training room into the hallway, I found myself face to face with James Hayes himself, leaning against the wall with a knowing smirk.
"Finished?" James asked, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Transfer the usage fee to my account, Ethan. I don't offer these facilities for free, you know."
I buried my face in Ethan's shoulder, mortification burning through me. Ethan, however, seemed completely unperturbed.
"Put it on my tab," he replied smoothly, continuing past James toward the exit.
In the privacy of Ethan's sleek black car, I finally found my voice again.
"That was..." I began, not sure how to finish.
"Exactly what you needed?" Ethan supplied, starting the engine. His hand found mine across the console, fingers intertwining.
"Something like that," I agreed, trying to sound casual despite the lingering heat in my cheeks. My mind was already starting to drift again, but this time to a different place. "Ethan, would you mind taking me to the cemetery in Brooklyn? I'd like to visit my grandfather."
Ethan studied my face for a moment before nodding. "Of course."
The drive to Brooklyn passed in comfortable silence. By the time we arrived at the cemetery, the sky had deepened to a rich blue, the first stars just beginning to appear. The cemetery was peaceful at this hour, the groundskeepers having long since gone home.
I knew the path to William's grave by heart. Ethan walked beside me, his hand loosely holding mine, but when we reached the headstone, he respectfully stepped back.
"I'll wait by the car," he said quietly. "Take your time."