Chapter 18: A Step Closer

The following morning, the air inside the house carried an unfamiliar warmth—an unspoken shift in the atmosphere. It wasn't the heat from the early sun streaming through the windows or the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the kitchen. It was something else.

Sarah felt it the moment she walked into the kitchen, still dressed in her oversized sleep shirt, her hair tousled from sleep. Ethan was already there, standing by the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, his toned frame relaxed as he leaned against the counter.

For a second, Sarah froze.

She had seen him without a shirt before—once when he had come back from his run, another time when he had changed in the hallway after a shower. But this time felt different. Maybe it was the memory of last night, of how he had held her hand as if he were anchoring her, making sure she didn't slip away.

"Morning," Ethan said, his voice still rough with sleep.

Sarah cleared her throat, willing herself to move toward the cabinets. "Morning."

She reached for a mug, but before she could grab it, Ethan extended his cup toward her. "Take mine. I haven't drunk from it yet."

She hesitated before accepting it, wrapping her hands around the warmth of the ceramic. "Thanks."

Ethan watched her as she took a slow sip, his gaze unreadable. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said quickly. Too quickly.

Ethan arched a brow. "Liar."

Sarah sighed, setting the cup down on the counter. "It's just… last night."

"You're overthinking it," Ethan said, pushing himself off the counter and moving closer.

She crossed her arms. "I don't think you understand how hard this is for me."

Ethan nodded, his expression serious. "Then help me understand."

Sarah inhaled deeply, gripping the edge of the counter. "People don't stay, Ethan. My dad left when I was a kid. My mom—she did her best, but she was always working, always too tired. And the people I've let into my life? They've always had conditions. They only wanted me when I fit into what they needed."

Ethan's jaw tightened. "That's not fair to you."

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "No, it's not. But it's what I've come to expect."

Ethan reached out, his fingers gently tilting her chin so she'd meet his gaze. "I'm not them, Sarah. And I need you to believe that."

Her breath hitched at the intensity in his eyes, at the way he looked at her like he could see every scar she had tried to hide.

"I'm trying," she whispered.

"That's all I'm asking for."

A beat of silence stretched between them before Ethan took a step back, allowing her space to breathe.

"Come with me today," he said suddenly.

Sarah blinked. "What?"

"I was planning to drive out to the lake. Get out of the house for a while." He leaned against the counter, his smirk returning. "Unless you're scared to spend the whole day alone with me."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Please. I just don't like surprises."

"Then let's make it simple. A day at the lake. No pressure, no expectations. Just us."

She hesitated, her fingers curling against the mug. The thought of stepping outside her comfort zone, of being alone with Ethan for an entire day, should have made her panic. But it didn't.

Instead, it made her feel something else entirely.

Hope.

"Okay," she said finally.

Ethan's grin widened. "Good. Be ready in an hour."

Later That Day

The drive to the lake was peaceful, the road winding through stretches of open fields and dense trees. Sarah sat in the passenger seat, watching as Ethan navigated the roads with ease.

The radio played softly, a familiar melody filling the quiet space between them. Sarah found herself relaxing, the tension that had followed her for days slowly unwinding.

When they arrived, the lake was nearly empty, save for a few people in the distance. The water stretched out before them, glistening under the sun, framed by lush greenery.

Ethan grabbed a blanket and a small cooler from the trunk before leading Sarah to a secluded spot near the shore. He spread the blanket on the grass, motioning for her to sit.

Sarah hesitated before lowering herself onto the soft fabric. "You come here often?"

Ethan nodded, sitting beside her. "Yeah. It's a good place to clear my head."

Sarah hugged her knees to her chest, gazing out at the water. "I can see why."

For a while, they sat in silence, the sounds of the water lapping against the shore filling the air. It was peaceful—calming in a way Sarah hadn't realized she needed.

Then Ethan turned to her, his expression thoughtful. "Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows."

Sarah's lips parted slightly. "What?"

"Something small, something big—I don't care. Just tell me something real."

She swallowed, turning her gaze back to the water. "When I was little, I used to imagine running away. Not because I hated my life, but because I wanted to see what else was out there."

Ethan listened, his expression unreadable.

"I used to dream about living in a small town by the ocean, where no one knew me. Where I wasn't expected to be anything for anyone," she continued.

Ethan was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "You ever think about doing it now?"

Sarah shook her head. "No. I think... I'm finally starting to believe that I can find happiness without running away."

Ethan's gaze softened. "I like that."

Sarah glanced at him. "What about you? Tell me something real."

Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I spent most of my life trying to be what my parents expected me to be. The perfect son. The one who never messed up. And for a long time, I thought that was who I was supposed to be."

Sarah studied him, sensing the weight behind his words. "And now?"

"Now, I don't know," Ethan admitted. "But I know that being here, with you... it's the first time I've felt like I don't have to pretend."

A warmth spread through Sarah's chest, unfamiliar yet welcome.

She didn't respond with words. Instead, she reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. Ethan's grip tightened, his thumb brushing against her skin.

They sat like that, hand in hand, as the afternoon sun painted golden streaks across the sky.

And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt alone.