Chapter 90 Chapter 90
Chapter Ninety
Sam Keystone stepped off the plane in Monterey just after noon, the California sun hitting him square in the face. He adjusted his sunglasses and scanned the arrival hall out of pure habit always checking exits, faces, anything that didn’t belong. This time he wasn’t hunting for a business contact or dodging paparazzi. He was looking for Ethan.
There he was, standing a little apart from the crowd near the glass doors. Dark jeans, plain black shirt, sunglasses hooked in the collar of his shirt.
No tie, no jacket, no nervous energy. He wasn't popping pills.
Ethan just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking… settled. Sam almost didn’t recognize the version of his best friend who wasn’t wired tight or coming down from something.
Sam grinned wide and walked over fast. “Look at this guy,” he called out, loud enough for a few heads to turn. “Standing still like a regular person. Am I in the right airport?”
Ethan let out a short laugh and met him halfway for a quick, hard hug. “You still talk too damn much.”
Sam pulled back, hands on Ethan’s shoulders, looking him over like he was inspecting merchandise. “No, hold up. You look different. When I left you were a mess—barely sleeping, biting heads off, fighting with every doctor who looked at you sideways. Now you look like you just spent a month on a beach.”
Ethan shrugged and reached for Sam’s suitcase. “France was good to you?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Sam said, falling into step beside him. “What the hell happened while I was gone?”
They headed out to the parking lot. Ethan’s black Lamborghini sat waiting like it owned the place. Sam raised an eyebrow. “Still driving like the road owes you money.”
Ethan smirked, unlocked the doors, and tossed the suitcase in the back. They slid in, engine rumbling to life, and pulled out onto the highway.
Sam kept stealing glances. Ethan’s hands were loose on the wheel. No white knuckles. No distracted staring. He even tapped his fingers lightly to whatever song was playing low on the radio. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Ethan hum.
“Okay, this is freaking me out,” Sam said after a few miles.
“What?”
“You,” Sam answered. “You’re too normal. Too calm. It’s creepy.”
Ethan laughed again, real and easy. “I’ll take it as a win.”
They drove past the turnoff for the Castellan villa and Sam sat up straighter. “Wait. You’re not going home?”
“I moved out,” Ethan said, eyes staying on the road.
Sam turned in his seat. “You did what?”
“Moved out. Months ago.”
Sam let out a disbelieving laugh. “Ethan Castellan walks away from the family mansion without a single headline or screaming match? Who are you and what did you do with my friend?”
Ethan just smiled, small and private.
They reached the penthouse downtown twenty minutes later. Floor-to-ceiling windows, city view, modern everything. Sam let out a low whistle as they walked in. “Alright, I get it now. This place is pure freedom. No parents, no staff hovering, no expectations.”
Ethan set the suitcase by the couch. “You’re crashing here while you’re in town.”
Sam dropped onto the leather sofa and kicked his shoes off. “You still haven’t answered me.”
“Which question?”
“Why you left the villa.”
Ethan walked into the open kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. “I needed space.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Ethan leaned back against the counter, glass in hand. “It’s the truth. I just… needed to breathe on my own terms.”
Sam studied him. “There’s more.”
Ethan didn’t deny it.
Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Come on. Spill.”
Ethan took a long drink, then set the glass down. He hesitated—just a second, but Sam caught it.
“Oh shit,” Sam said, eyes lighting up. “There’s a girl.”
Ethan rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that.” Sam grinned. “Who is she?”
Ethan walked over to the window, looking out at the bay. “Her name’s Celine.”
“Celine,” Sam repeated, testing it. “And?”
“She works at Castellan Enterprise.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re dating someone from work?”
“I didn’t plan it,” Ethan said fast. “It just happened.”
Sam barked out a laugh. “You? Mr. Everything-Has-to-Be-Calculated? You let something just happen?”
Ethan smiled, a little sheepish. “Yeah. She’s… different.”
“Different how?”
“She doesn’t give a damn about the last name or the bank accounts. She talks to me like I’m just some guy. No agenda. No expectations.”
Sam nodded slowly. “And you like that.”
“I really do,” Ethan said quietly. “Around her I feel… normal. Like I don’t have to perform.”
Sam was quiet for a beat. Then he said, “That’s why you look better.”
Ethan glanced over. “What?”
“You don’t look like you’re at war with yourself anymore,” Sam said. “You stopped fighting every damn thing.”
Ethan exhaled. “I stopped the pills.”
Sam’s eyes went wide. “You quit?”
“With the doctor’s supervision,” Ethan added quickly. “I didn’t cold-turkey it. But yeah. I’m off them.”
Sam stood up. “Ethan. That’s massive.”
“I know.”
Sam walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And it’s because of her.”
“She didn’t fix me,” Ethan said. “She just made me want to get my shit together. I wanted to actually feel things again. Good and bad.”
Sam smiled, real and proud. “I leave for one trip and you go and fall for the woman who makes you human.”
Ethan laughed under his breath. “She didn’t make me human. She just reminded me I could be.”
Sam squeezed his shoulder once and let go. “I’m proud of you, man.”
Ethan looked away, cheeks going a little red. “Don’t get weird.”
“Too late.” Sam grinned. “So when do I meet her?”
Ethan froze. “Meet who?”
“Celine,” Sam said. “The miracle worker who got Ethan Castellan to chill the hell out.”
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet.”
Sam’s grin widened. “You’re serious about her.”
Ethan nodded once. “Yeah. I think I am.”
“About damn time,” Sam said. “Took you long enough to let someone in.”
They both laughed, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings, easy and light.
Later that night Sam was in the guest room unpacking, hanging shirts in the closet, when he glanced out and saw Ethan standing by the living room window again. Phone in his hand. Screen lit up. A message waiting.
Ethan didn’t open it right away. Just stared at it, thumb hovering, small smile tugging at his mouth.
Sam leaned against the doorframe and watched for a second.
Whatever this was whatever Celine had done it was real. Ethan wasn’t pretending anymore. He wasn’t numbing out. He was actually living.
And for the first time in years, Sam felt someth
ing loosen in his own chest.
Hope.
Real, stupid, dangerous hope.
He shook his head, smiling to himself, and went back to unpacking.
Some things were worth the wait.