Ethan’s voice from yesterday replayed in my mind like a broken record. “Fix it. I’m not letting this lawsuit ruin everything.” The word lawsuit stuck to me, heavier than I wanted to admit. I tried to drown the thought in reports and emails, but curiosity itched at me, persistent and annoying, like a mosquito bite I couldn’t ignore.
By mid-morning, the office hummed with its usual rhythm. Quiet conversations mixed with the clatter of keyboards. My desk was a sea of spreadsheets, but my eyes kept darting toward Ethan’s office. The door was ajar, and through the gap, I saw him at his desk, shoulders slightly hunched over his laptop. The tension in his posture was new. He always seemed unflappable, like nothing could crack his polished exterior. Today, though, he looked… weighed down.
I sat back in my chair, debating. The smart move would be to stay out of it. Don’t poke the bear, don’t stir the pot. But I’ve never been good at leaving well enough alone—especially when it comes to Ethan Drake.
Grabbing a random file for cover, I stood and walked toward his office. The air felt heavier the closer I got. I tapped lightly on the doorframe. “Knock, knock,” I said, stepping inside without waiting for a response.
Ethan didn’t bother looking up, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “What do you want, Winters?”
I leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing my arms. “Relax, I’m not here to ruin your morning. I just thought I’d check in. You seemed… tense yesterday.”
“I’m always tense,” he said flatly, still not looking at me.
“True,” I replied, smirking. “But this was different. You actually sounded human for once.”
That got his attention. His fingers hovered above the keyboard, and he finally looked up, fixing me with a stare so sharp it could have cut glass. “Careful, Winters,” he said, his voice low. “That almost sounded like concern.”
“Don’t get too excited,” I shot back. “I’m just wondering how the golden boy of high school ended up here. Wasn’t there some fancy family business in the cards? What happened to that?”
His entire demeanor shifted. His jaw tightened, his hands dropping to the desk as his gaze darkened. My instincts screamed that I’d crossed a line.
“You don’t know a damn thing about my family,” he said, his voice cold enough to freeze the air between us.
I raised my hands in mock surrender, even though my pulse had quickened. “Touchy subject. Got it.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I glanced toward his laptop and caught a glimpse of what looked like a financial report before he snapped it shut with a decisive click.
“You know,” I said after a beat, trying to lighten the mood, “most people just answer politely when someone makes small talk. But I guess you’re not most people.”
Ethan stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The movement was sudden, and I instinctively straightened. He stepped around the desk, closing the space between us. His gray eyes locked on mine, unreadable and intense.
“You think you know me, Maeve?” he said quietly, his voice like a low rumble. “You don’t have a clue. High school was just the tip of the iceberg.”
My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to back down. I met his gaze, steady despite the heat radiating off him. “Then why don’t you enlighten me?” I challenged, my voice firm.
For a moment, it seemed like he might. His jaw worked, tension radiating from him like a storm ready to break. But then he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Drop it, Winters,” he said, his voice softer now but no less firm. “You don’t want to go there.”
I stared at him, debating whether to push. But there was something in his expression—something raw and almost vulnerable—that stopped me. Whatever he was dealing with, it was heavy. And for once, I didn’t want to make it worse.
“Fine,” I said, sighing as I stepped away from the desk. “But one day, you’re going to have to talk about it. Keeping it all bottled up doesn’t make you strong, Ethan. It just makes you lonely.”
He didn’t reply, and I turned to leave, my footsteps soft against the carpet. As I passed his desk, something caught my eye—a torn photograph half-buried under a pile of papers. I paused, leaning closer. The picture showed a younger Ethan standing beside a man and a woman, their arms loosely draped around him. But half of the image was missing, torn away as though someone had tried to erase a piece of the story.
My chest tightened, curiosity blooming again, but Ethan’s voice cut through the silence. “Anything else you need, Winters?”
His tone was calm now, but there was a warning in it. I straightened, brushing off the questions that prickled at my mind. “No,” I said simply, heading for the door. “That’ll be all.”