Chapter 115
Emily's POV
I'd gotten home from the restaurant after nine, dropping my keys on the console table and immediately turning to Ethan, who'd been sprawled on the couch scrolling through his phone.
"How is he?" I asked before I'd even taken off my jacket.
Ethan looked up, his expression easy. "Fever broke about three hours ago. He's been sleeping since then—actually sleeping, not that restless half-awake thing he was doing this morning."
Relief flooded through me, loosening the knot of anxiety I'd been carrying all day between inventory counts and kitchen crises. "Can I check on him?"
"He's in the study," Ethan said, standing and following as I headed down the hallway. "We moved him in there this afternoon when it was clear he wasn't going anywhere. Figured he'd rest better on the fold-out than the couch."
I pushed open the study door quietly, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light from the hallway spilling in. Mason was curled on his side on the fold-out bed, one arm tucked under the pillow, his breathing deep and even. His face looked younger in sleep, the defensive wariness that had been etched there earlier completely smoothed away.
I stepped closer, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair back from his forehead. His skin was cool to the touch now, no trace of the fever that had been burning through him earlier.
"Did you eat dinner?" Ethan asked quietly from the doorway.
"At the restaurant," I said, letting my hand drop. "My head chef made me sit down for twenty minutes and actually eat something before he'd let me leave."
Ethan nodded. "He's gonna be okay," he said softly as I tucked another blanket around Mason's shoulders and stepped back. "Kids are resilient."
"He's eighteen," I said, but even to my own ears it sounded defensive. "Not a kid."
"Okay," Ethan agreed easily, his hand finding the small of my back in a touch that felt grounding. "He's eighteen and he's gonna be okay."
I wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that bringing Mason home had been the right call, that I hadn't just complicated everything by dragging a traumatized stranger into the careful balance Ethan and Alex and I had built over the past two years.
But when Ethan's hand slid from my back to my hip, his fingers pressing into the curve there with a familiarity that made my breath catch, I realized how much I'd missed this—missed him—in the three days he'd been gone for away games.
"Come here," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low register that always made something in my stomach flip over.
I turned into him, let him pull me close, and when his mouth found mine I tasted mint toothpaste and something warm underneath that was just Ethan, solid and real and here.
The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made me forget about fevers and rain-soaked boys and everything except the heat of his body pressed against mine.
When he finally pulled back, his pupils were blown wide and there was a flush high on his cheekbones that I'd seen enough times to recognize.
"Missed you," he said against my mouth, and then he was kissing me again, harder this time, his hands sliding under my shirt to splay against bare skin.
I heard myself make a sound—something between a gasp and a laugh—and then I was kissing him back just as hard, my fingers tangling in his hair.
"There are people here," I managed when we broke apart again, breathless and flushed.
Ethan glanced over my shoulder toward the fold-out where Mason was still sleeping, his breathing deep and even.
"He won't mind," Ethan said. His mouth curved into something wicked. "He might even want to join."
"Don't," I said immediately, heat flooding my face. "Don't say things like that."
I stepped back into the hallway and pulled the door almost closed, leaving it cracked just enough to hear if Mason called out.
"Alex helped," Ethan said quietly as we walked back toward the living room. "All day, actually. Brought him food, made sure he took the meds on schedule, changed out the cold compresses when the fever spiked again around three." He paused, his hand finding the small of my back. "I know you two left things tense this morning, but he showed up when it mattered."
"I should thank him," I said.
"Yeah," Ethan agreed, his thumb rubbing a small circle against my spine. "You should."
As he said it, Alex's bedroom door opened and he emerged, moving to the dining table and opening his laptop with the kind of deliberate focus that screamed don't talk to me. His jaw was set, his shoulders rigid, and when his eyes flicked up to meet mine for half a second before returning to his screen, the expression on his face was pure ice.
I leaned closer to Ethan, dropping my voice to barely above a whisper. "I don't think he's going to accept my thanks."
Ethan's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "Watch me."
Before I could ask what he meant, his hand slid from my back to my hip, pulling me against him, and his mouth found mine in a kiss that was definitely not appropriate for the middle of the living room with Alex ten feet away.
But I got it immediately—understood the game he was playing—and I let myself sink into it, kissing him back with enough enthusiasm to make it obvious, letting out a soft sound of pleasure that I knew would carry across the quiet apartment.
Ethan's hand tightened on my hip, his other hand coming up to cup the back of my neck as he deepened the kiss, and I leaned into him, making sure every shift of my body looked like I was completely lost in the moment.
When he started walking backward toward my bedroom, pulling me with him without breaking the kiss, I went willingly, my hands sliding up his chest in a way that I knew looked possessive from the outside.
I caught a glimpse of Alex over Ethan's shoulder—saw the exact moment his fingers stilled on the keyboard, saw his head turn fractionally toward us even as he tried to maintain that mask of disinterest.
And then he was standing, the laptop forgotten, his chair scraping against the floor as he followed us down the hallway with that predatory grace that always made my pulse kick up.
I couldn't help it—I smiled against Ethan's mouth, feeling the satisfaction of watching Alex's walls crack despite his best efforts to stay angry with me.
Ethan felt it too. I could tell by the way his own mouth curved against mine, smug and knowing.
"Told you," he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.