Chapter 102 Distance
Elena: POV
Ethan's eyes flickered away from mine for just a second—barely noticeable if I hadn't been watching him so closely.
"I don't know him," he said, too quickly. "I mean, not personally. I've just... heard things."
Heard things.
"What kind of things?" I pressed.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, glancing over my shoulder toward where Alexander had disappeared into the crowd. "Bad things. The kind of things that get people hurt."
"Be specific."
"Elena." His voice dropped lower. "He's connected to people you don't want to be connected to. The Sterling family has... let's just say they have interests that go beyond what you see in the business pages."
"You mean illegal interests."
"I mean dangerous interests." His hand found mine, squeezing gently. "Just—stay away from him, okay? He's not like Julian. He's worse."
Worse than Julian.
I almost laughed. As if anything could be worse than what I'd already been through.
"Elena?"
Mom's voice cut through the tension. I turned to see her making her way toward us, one hand pressed to her lower back. Even in the firelight, I could see the exhaustion in her face, the way she moved like every step cost her something.
Six months.
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut every single time.
"Mom." I pulled away from Ethan and went to her, slipping an arm around her waist. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, sweetheart." She leaned into me, her body too light, too fragile. "But I'm confused. What's Alexander Sterling doing at a community bonfire in Florida?"
"I have no fucking idea," I muttered.
Ethan appeared at my other side, his expression carefully neutral. "Mrs. Vance, let me help."
Between the two of us, we got Mom back to our blanket. She sank down with a small sigh of relief, and I knelt beside her, my hand automatically going to her arm.
"You should have stayed sitting," I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.
"I wanted to check on you." Her eyes moved between me and Ethan.
"Ethan, dear, I've been meaning to tell you—Elena and I are going on a trip. A road trip, actually. We're leaving in a few days."
I felt Ethan stiffen beside me.
"A trip?" he repeated. "For how long?"
"A month or two," Mom said, her voice light. Too light. "Maybe longer. We haven't decided yet."
"The Blue Ridge Mountains," I added, squeezing Mom's hand. "She's always wanted to see them."
Before she can't anymore.
The unspoken words hung in the air between us.
Ethan was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. "That's... sudden. I mean, you just got here, Elena. And two months is—that's a long time."
"We want to," I said simply.
"I understand that, but..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair again. A nervous habit, I was starting to realize. "It might not be safe. Two women traveling alone for that long."
"We'll be fine," I said, my voice harder than I'd intended.
"I could come with you."
The suggestion hung in the air like smoke.
Mom's eyes lit up—just for a second—before she caught herself. "Oh, Ethan, that's sweet of you to offer, but—"
"Actually, it makes sense," he continued, warming to the idea. "I mean, I'm here anyway, right? And I've got time before I need to be back in New York. I could help with the driving, make sure you're both safe..."
No.
The word rose in my throat, sharp and immediate.
This was supposed to be Mom's trip. Our trip. The last real time we'd have together before—
Before.
I couldn't let Ethan intrude on that. Not when every moment felt borrowed, stolen from the inevitable.
"That's really generous," I said carefully, "but I think it's better if it's just the two of us. You know. Mother-daughter time."
The disappointment in Ethan's face was almost painful to see.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes searching mine. "I wouldn't be in the way, I promise. I just—I want to help."
"I'm sure," I said firmly. "But thank you. Really."
Mom reached over and patted Ethan's hand. "You're a good man, Ethan. Elena's lucky to have you."
I wanted to say. This is all fake, remember?
But Mom was smiling now, her face relaxed in a way I hadn't seen in days, so I kept my mouth shut.
---
The walk back to the house was quiet. Ethan had insisted on driving us, and Mom had accepted before I could protest. Now she was dozing in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window, while I sat in the back, my arms wrapped around myself.
"When do you leave?" Ethan asked, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
"Saturday."
Three days away.
"And you're planning the whole route yourself?"
"We'll figure it out as we go."
He was quiet for a moment. "Have you told anyone else? About the trip?"
Who would I tell?
Sophia was back in New York, probably still tangled up with Lucas. My former coworkers at Sterling Group didn't give a shit where I was. And Julian—
I deleted his number.
"No," I said simply. "There's no one to tell."
Ethan's jaw tightened. I could see him struggling with something, the words forming and reforming behind his teeth.
Finally, he said, "If you need anything while you're gone—"
"We won't."
"Elena." His voice was patient, like he was talking to a skittish animal. "I know you want to do this alone. I get it. But if something happens, if your mom gets sick or you run into trouble—"
"Then I'll handle it."
"How?" The question came out sharper than he probably intended. "You're still recovering yourself. Those scars on your wrists are barely healed, and—"
"Stop." The word cracked through the car like a whip. "Just stop, Ethan."
Mom stirred in the front seat, and I lowered my voice.
"I appreciate your concern," I continued, forcing myself to sound calmer. "But I can take care of my mother. I don't need—"
I don't need another man trying to save me.
The thought finished itself in the silence.
---
We pulled up in front of the house. The porch light was on, casting long shadows across the overgrown lawn. Ethan put the car in park but didn't turn off the engine.
"I'll help your mom inside," he said quietly.
"I've got it."
But Mom was already struggling with the door handle, and Ethan was out of the car before I could stop him. By the time I climbed out, he had his arm around her waist, supporting her up the porch steps.
I followed behind, my hands clenched into fists in my pockets.
At the door, Mom turned to Ethan with a tired smile. "Thank you for tonight. It was lovely."
"The pleasure was mine, Mrs. Vance." He glanced at me. "Take care of yourself, okay? Both of you."
"We will," Mom promised.
There was a pause. An expectation of something—a kiss goodnight, maybe, or some other performative gesture of affection.
But I just stood there, my hand on the doorknob, waiting.
Finally, Ethan stepped back. "I guess I'll see you when you get back, then."
"Sure," I said. "When we get back."
"I'll be waiting."
The words sounded like a promise. Or maybe a threat.
I met his eyes steadily. "You said you were here for work, right? Business trip?"
"Yeah, but—"
"So finish your work and go home, Ethan." My voice was flat, emotionless. "There's no reason for you to wait around."
The hurt that flashed across his face was immediate and raw. "Elena—"
"Goodnight."
I opened the door and gently guided Mom inside, not looking back even when I heard Ethan's sharp intake of breath, or the sound of his footsteps retreating down the porch steps.