Page 107 of Lovestrung

Ethan: Hurting you tore me to pieces, and I vowed I’d never hurt you again.

Ethan: But I did, didn’t I?

I nodded. “Yeah, baby, you did.”

Ethan: I wish I’d told you about that part of my life.

Ethan: If I could go back in time when you first came home, I would’ve come clean.

Ethan: Before I ever laid my hands on you, I’d have explained my situation, darlin’.

Ethan: But I was still scared, you see.

Ethan: Scared to love you.

Ethan: Scared to hope.

Ethan: Scared to wish for more.

Ethan: But, the thing is…I’m tired of being scared.

I sprang up from my bed, no longer able to lie still as I came to the end of his long string of texts. As I paced back and forth between my bed and my old, white desk, I flexed my hand around my phone. I was strung so tight, my hand close to cramping, and a part of me was ready to skip the rest of his texts and simply go to him. To face him. But another part of me – the romantic, optimist part – had to read the rest.

I switched hands and stared down at the screen.

Ethan: I’m tired of holding back.

Ethan: Knowing that you love me has given me courage.

Ethan: But am I too late? Tell me.

Ethan: Have I ruined everything?

Ethan: Put me out of my misery and just tell me if we’re over, Pen.

Ethan: But if we aren’t, tell me that, too, so I can come to you.

Ethan: What’s it going to be, darlin’?

Ethan: Yes?

Ethan: Or no?

There wasn’t really a choice.

My heart knew it before my head did, but I sprang into action and ran from my room, through the hallway and down the stairs. I let a low shriek in alarm when my foot almost slipped on the last step, making me grab a tight hold on the bannister before I was able to right myself. When I was met by two equally puzzled sets of eyes, I smiled sheepishly.

Louisa was helping Gramps with his coat for his afternoon walk as she’d done so many times before, but now, her hands were stopped midair, his scarf almost slipping from her fingers, and her eyes were as round as saucers.

“I have to go out.”

I scrambled as I tore down my wool coat from the old coat stand placed next to the front door.

“Where’s the fire?” Gramps grumbled from his wheel chair, his eyes close to hitting his hairline.

“I need to speak with Ethan,” I huffed as I struggled to get my arm through a sleeve.

“Here, let me help you, dear,” Louisa murmured as she came to my aid. “And do remember to breathe,” she chuckled. Her sensible character had clearly returned in full. “He can wait a few minutes.”