I wander around my little house, feeling anxious. A little lost. Excited. Nervous.
Sleep eluded me completely last night. I tossed and turned, my thoughts full of my sister. My past. Looking for clues that she was unhappy, feeling neglected, full of resentment. Wracking my brain, I couldn’t find a one. Not that I’d paid much attention to her. I was too focused internally. Consumed with my own pain, my suffering, to worry about anyone else’s. And throughout that turbulent time, Brenna had done nothing but give me support.
Yes, our relationship before the kidnapping had been a wreck. She was fifteen and an irritable, moody teenager. I was her pain-in-the-butt little sister who wanted nothing but acceptance. I didn’t get it—Brenna wanted nothing to do with me. She treated me horribly. I was the one oozing resentment before everything happened. The day at the amusement park I was so mad at her, and I know she was mad at me.
Well, not necessarily mad. We were just . . . annoyed with each other. It was a constant state in our house. Drove our parents crazy.
The one thing that kept me awake long into the night was the realization that maybe I was the selfish one. I never gave anyone a second thought. It was always about me.
Me, me, me.
I never considered what Brenna had to go through, or my parents, or even Will. I was too overwhelmed with my own pain to notice anyone else’s. And I feel terrible for that.
I feel . . .
Ashamed.
That Brenna barged into my house and essentially told me I couldn’t see Ethan any longer riled me up. Who is she to tell me what to do? I’m an adult, allowed to make as many mistakes as I want. I refuse to let her boss me around. If I want Ethan in my life, he’ll be there. She can’t stop me.
Feeling defiant, I’d texted him. Just to see if he’d respond. Deep down inside, I knew he would. And he didn’t disappoint me. That I was brazen enough to invite him to my home says I’m not thinking clearly. But I don’t think Brenna’s been thinking real clearly lately, either.
So. Is Ethan turning into a case of wanting what I can’t have?
Quite possibly.
We don’t live in the same town, yet he’s willing to drop everything to come see me. Am I testing him? Seeing just how far he’ll go to see me, help me, spend time with me?
I take a quick shower and painstakingly do my makeup, though I don’t want it to look too obvious. I blow-dry my hair straight, making a face at my reflection when I’m done. I am totally trying too hard.
I’m halfway dressed when there’s a knock on my door. Glancing around my bedroom, I grab my leggings and tug them on, yelling, “Just a minute!” when Ethan knocks again.
By the time I make it to the door I’m a flustered, breathless mess. I undo the locks and pull the door open to find Ethan standing on my doorstep, a pink box in one hand and a tray of . . . four coffees balanced in the other. He smiles when he sees me, a slow, sensuous curve of his perfect mouth, and my stomach flutters with anticipation.
“Your breakfast,” he says, his voice deadly serious, the complete opposite of the twinkle in his gaze.
I hold the door open wider for him. “Come in.”
He hesitates before crossing the threshold. “Are you sure, Katie?” His voice is low, his expression solemn. That he’s double-checking touches something deep within me and I nod, my cheeks flushing when he murmurs, “Thank you,” as he walks past me.
I shut the door and turn to watch him as he heads for my kitchen. I follow him, my gaze eating him up. Last time we saw each other, I’d still been angry. Panicked because Lisa Swanson was nearby. So unfocused I couldn’t appreciate having him close. Heck, I wasn’t appreciating his closeness. I was too mad at him.
Now, I let my gaze linger on his perfect dark gray sweatpant-covered butt. He has on a thick black fleece zip-up jacket and a beanie that covers almost all of his hair. Only a few wild strands peek out from the bottom. He turns to face me as he sets the food and drink on the kitchen table and I take in his familiar, handsome face.
All at once, it hits me. That this man, who’s so completely invaded my life, is also attached to my past. That this is Will. My Will. The boy who saved me has grown into an attractive, thoughtful man. He may have tricked me to get back into my life, but I’m starting to realize that maybe it wasn’t because he wanted to play a cruel game.
More like he wanted to find a way to be close to me.
“You look good,” he says as I approach the table. I don’t return the compliment, suddenly feeling shy.
“Extra thirsty this morning?” I point at the four to-go cups sitting in the cardboard tray. “Or am I having unexpected company?”
He smiles. “I wasn’t sure what you might want.”
“So you brought a variety?” I raise my brows.
“Two for you, two for me.” He looks sheepish. “Though I’m probably hopped up on enough coffee already. I’ve been guzzling it since four.”
“In the morning?” I reach for one of the coffees and pull it from the tray, reading the side of the cup. “A vanilla latte. One of my favorites.”
Ethan nods toward the pink box. “Check out what I brought you. Make sure it meets with your approval first.”
I set the latte down and pry off the pink lid, sucking in a breath when I see what’s inside. Nothing but chocolate doughnuts with sprinkles, but such a wide variety of them my heart actually skips with delight when I take them all in.
Three are Halloween-themed ones with black and orange sprinkles and doughnuts with a fall theme with orange and yellow sprinkles. Others are either solid pink, or white, and a few rainbow sprinkle–covered ones are in there, too. I count the doughnuts, realizing we definitely have over a dozen. I glance up at him, my gaze meeting his once more.