ETHAN'S POV
I couldn't stop the tears once they started. Everything I'd been holding back—the fight with my dad, getting kicked off the championship team, years of guilt over Mom—it all came flooding out right there in the hallway.
I felt Tori's arms around me, gentle but strong, guiding me inside my apartment.
"It's okay," she whispered, helping me to the couch. "Let it out."
She disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket that she draped around my shoulders.
The small gesture of kindness nearly broke me all over again.
"I'll make some coffee," she said, rushing to the kitchen.
I watched her through blurry eyes, moving around my kitchen like she belonged there. Opening cabinets, finding mugs, figuring out my coffee maker. She was so confident, so capable.
"When's the last time you ate something?" she called over her shoulder.
I tried to remember. Had I eaten today? Yesterday? "I don't know."
She turned to look at me, concern etched on her face. "You've had nothing since leaving my place two night ago?"
I shook my head.
"Ethan!" She sighed, opening my refrigerator. "You need to eat."
"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, but she was already pulling out ingredients.
"I'm making you something anyway," she said firmly. "And you're going to eat it."
I wanted to argue, to tell her not to bother, but I didn't have the energy. So I just sat there, wrapped in the blanket, watching her move around my kitchen.
Chopping vegetables. Boiling pasta. Finding spices I didn't even know I had.
Something warm bloomed in my chest as I watched her. No one had taken care of me like this since Mom died. Dad had hired housekeepers and cooks, but it wasn't the same as someone caring enough to make you food with their own hands.
Tori reminded me so much of my mother. Not just her name—Victoria Martinez and Victoria Harrington—but her strength, her determination. Mom had been like that too. Fierce and protective, but gentle when it mattered.
I found myself smiling, despite everything.
"Feeling better now?" Tori asked, catching my expression.
I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.
She brought over a plate of pasta that smelled incredible. My stomach growled loudly, betraying my earlier claim of not being hungry. I took the plate and started eating, surprised by how ravenous I actually was.
The pasta disappeared in minutes. I hadn't even realized how fast I was eating until I looked down at the empty plate.
Tori laughed, a genuine sound that lightened the heavy atmosphere. "You said you weren't hungry, didn't you?"
"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly. "Guess I was wrong."
She took the plate back to the kitchen, and I was struck by how natural this felt. Tori in my apartment, taking care of me, teasing me. Like we'd done this a hundred times before.
When she returned, neither of us spoke. But it wasn't an awkward silence—it was comfortable, peaceful. She didn't press me for details about what had happened, nor did she demand explanations.
She just sat there, being present.
It was exactly what I needed.
I patted the spot next to me on the couch, wanting her closer.
After a moment's hesitation, she sat beside me. I shifted the blanket so it covered both of us, and she leaned against me slightly.
“Are you still in denial?" I asked and she tensed slightly, then relaxed.
"In denial about what?"
"About us. About there being something between us."
She was quiet for a moment. "It's unpredictable," she said finally, "how one can fall heads over heels for someone and not realize it, only to suddenly recognize it in minutes."
My heart skipped a beat. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?
"Is that what happened to you?" I asked carefully.
"Maybe." She smiled, but didn't elaborate.
In that moment, looking at her profile in the dim light of my apartment, I was hit with a certainty I'd never experienced before. I knew, with absolute clarity, what I felt for this fierce, beautiful, complicated girl.
"I love you, Victoria Martinez," I said, the words falling from my lips before I could consider their weight.