‘They’re going to look so good when they’re done.’ Ethan used a flashlight to guide us past the construction. ‘I want a place like this one day. Imagine, drinking your morning coffee, looking out over the lake.’ He grinned over at me, and I wondered if I was in that picture with him.
‘You see yourself living here then?’ I asked. ‘For good, I mean.’
‘Here, or someplace like it.’ Ethan nodded. ‘Small, friendly. Someplace you can get to know your neighbours, you know. A good place to raise kids.’
He smiled at me again and I thought I saw a flash of hope in his eyes. Did he see me in his future? Did I want to be there?
I shook off the thought, following him to the cabin they were using as a base camp for the construction. Inside, there were lights and an electric heater. Ethan spread the blanket he’d brought on the floor, and we settled in the corner, huddled close to keep warm. ‘I know how to show a girl a good time,’ Ethan joked, pulling me closer for a kiss.
I smiled and kissed him back, trying to lose myself in his warmth and the feel of his body under mine. Usually, I could count on him making the world go away, but something wasn’t right. I felt a restless ache that wouldn’t quiet, not for all Ethan’s sweet kisses and grasping touch.
I pulled away and caught my breath. ‘Oliver came to see me,’ I started, watching Ethan’s expression. ‘He said you talked to him.’
‘About the other week? Yeah.’ Ethan nodded, leaning back. He traced idle circles along my ribcage, and I felt his touch, shivering through my shirt. ‘I told you, he can be annoying sometimes. Did he apologize?’
‘Kind of,’ I replied, wondering how much Oliver had told him.
‘Let me guess, it didn’t sound much like an apology?’ Ethan rolled his eyes. ‘Sorry, he can be a dick about that stuff.’
‘It’s fine.’ I paused, sitting up. ‘So, is he going to be sticking around? What happened about college?’
‘He won’t go into it, says he’s done.’ Ethan shrugged, his fingers slipping up higher under my shirt.
‘You guys aren’t close.’ It was a statement, not a question. I watched him carefully, catching the flicker of tension in his jaw and the way he dropped his hand from my body.
‘I guess.’ Ethan looked evasive. ‘I mean, he was older and always off at school.’
They were so different, I couldn’t imagine how they’d both grown up in the same home.
‘He was in boarding schools, right?’ I pressed. ‘Why didn’t you go too?’
‘There wasn’t the money.’ Ethan sat up then. ‘He was the smart one,’ he explained, matter of fact. ‘Mom was always going on about his potential, how he needed to be challenged, so they found a way for him to go.’
I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, but still, that didn’t stop me. ‘It must have been weird, watching him get all the attention.’
Ethan shrugged again, looking away. ‘I don’t know, I got the easier break, Mom was so overprotective of him. He was her favourite,’ he added. ‘She wouldn’t let him out of her sight when we were kids. I just got to do my own thing.’
‘Still, having him back must be strange,’ I said, trying to picture them as kids. Ethan was easy, he would have been happy and easily entertained, but I couldn’t see Oliver. That careful, knowing gazedidn’t belong in a child’s eyes; even now, it seemed years too old for him. ‘Are you closer now?’
‘I guess. I don’t know. Why are we even talking about him?’ Ethan looked confused.
‘Because he’s your family,’ I laughed. ‘And we’ve done enough talking about mine to last a lifetime.’
‘So don’t talk.’ Ethan gripped my hips, suddenly rolling me beneath him. I caught my breath at the movement, reaching up for more, but instead, he propped himself on his arms, waiting above me, his lips inches from mine.
‘Are you telling me to shut up?’ I teased.
‘No ma’am,’ Ethan smiled softly, brushing back my hair. ‘I’d never do that.’
He kissed me softly. Too soft. I could feel the pull of lust again, snaking through my body, mingling with the deep, aching sadness I’d been battling all day. I could tell him about Crystal – he would listen, and murmur sympathy, and say all the right things. But that wasn’t what I wanted; I wanted to feel something. Anything but this . . . defeat.
Frustration rose in my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him down to me, hungry, needing something more. Ethan tried to hold back, but I didn’t let him, demanding, and soon he was caught up again in tongues and hands and grinding bodies.
I reached between us for his belt.
‘Here?’ Ethan tried to detangle himself. He was breathless, his body hard against me, but still, he tried to hold back. ‘It’s OK, we don’t have to.’
‘I know.’ I reached for him again. ‘I just want to be close to you.’
Ethan smiled, relaxing against me. ‘If you’re sure . . . ’ He kissed me again, slow. Sweet. Like he meant it.
When I closed my eyes again, I saw Oliver staring back at me.
Crystal Keller died at eight thirty-two p.m., six days after the crash. She’d been non-responsive since they brought her in; her brain activity was negligible, she showed no signs of breathing on her own.
Her mom turned off the ventilator.
I heard the news just before my first class at Rossmore College; I was already seated in the cramped, windowless room when the call came in. I’d asked the nurse on duty to keep me updated, and now I was stuck, sitting at the tiny half-desk in a room full of students as the professor began his introductory talk, writing his name up in big letters on the board.
‘Call me Ashton,’ he joked. ‘Not Ishmael.’
There were a few low titters, but most of the class didn’t understand what he meant.
Crystal was dead.
I stared blankly at my notebook, tuning out the professor’s voice. It didn’t make any sense to me, that she was here, and then, gone.
No more late-night eyeliner and stops at the diner. No new job, or first apartment; no husband or kids one day. No getting to California, getting out of this town at all.
She was just gone.
I didn’t notice class was over until the scrape of chairs and sound of chatter broke through my thoughts. I looked up; the room was emptying fast, and there were notes on the board: our first assignment. I quickly scribbled it down, grabbing my things and joining the exodus to the front of the room.