His lopsided frown evened out. “I’m not.”
An electric silence settled between them.
Ethan was the first to break it. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends what it is.”
“Why did you break up with your boyfriend?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because maybe if you think about all the reasons you don’t want to be with him it’ll help you get over him.”
Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think that’ll work.”
“Why not?”
“Because he broke up with me.”
Ethan laughed. “Poor bastard.”
“Poor bastard!” Chloe huffed. “What about me? I’m the one who got dumped.”
“Yes, but you’re gorgeous and enigmatic. Guys will be beating down the door to date you for the rest of your life. But this ex-boyfriend of yours is obviously a moron, and stupid isn’t something he’s likely to outgrow. Plus, if he does wise up he’s just going to realize how bad he screwed up by letting a girl like you slip away. So ya see, the poor bastard can’t win.”
Chloe couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never heard rejection described so eloquently. “Well, when you put it that way . . .” She laughed again, but then something Ethan said clicked. Was that why Brady had come back? Had he realized he screwed up? Was he really trying to get her back?
“What?” Ethan asked.
“Nothing, it’s just something you said about my ex.”
“He’s the one who came looking for you at the lodge today, isn’t he?”
Chloe nodded.
Ethan huffed a laugh. “Maybe he’s not such a moron.”
Chloe stared at Ethan trying to decipher his comment as he sipped his hot cocoa. She always felt there was so much meaning between his words. Did he ever just say what he was thinking?
It was maddening.
“It’s my turn to ask you a question.”
Ethan slid onto the couch, making himself comfortable. “Shoot.”
“Why are you and your brother so different?”
Ethan smirked. “Picked up on that, did ya?”
“It’s pretty easy to notice.”
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Some people just see what they want to see. And when you’re a carbon copy of someone else, your individuality can get overlooked.”
“I know what you mean,” Chloe said, thinking of how she always felt like the duller version of Margot.
“Is that why you try so hard to be nothing like your sister?” Ethan asked.
Chloe let her eyes meet Ethan’s, surprised how well he read her. She wasn’t ready to answer that question yet. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she teased.
But when she thought about what Ethan asked the answer surprised Chloe. She did try to be different from Margot. Was that why she dressed drab and focused on books rather than herself?
“Owen spent more time with our father than I did,” Ethan said, drawing Chloe back to their conversation.
“Why?”
“He wasn’t a pleasant man. Our parents separated because of it and that’s about the time I stopped trying to get him to like me.” He shrugged. “I figured if my mother wasn’t successful then I’d never be.”
He thought his father hated him?
Chloe didn’t know what to do with that. “Oh,” she said, softly. “Did they get divorced?”
“Eventually. It’s my turn to ask a question.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me about your ex-boyfriend.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Why are you so interested in him?”
“Because he seems to be the only thing standing between me and your lips.”
Chloe felt heat wash her from head-to-toe. She swallowed thickly trying to slow her racing heart. “His name’s Brady Jones. He lives next door.”
Ethan groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. He brought his hand to his heart in a stabbing motion and sighed.
Chloe furrowed her brow. “What?”
“You didn’t tell me I was competing with the boy next door.”
“Competing?”
Ethan sat up, his crooked smirk back in place. “I thought I was being fairly obvious, Chloe. I like you. And despite your warnings, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”
“Oh,” she said again.
He laughed. “You’re not real good for my ego, Chloe.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Let’s go back to our questions. I think it’s your turn.”
“Okay,” she said. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I told you, I couldn’t sleep.”
“But why?”
“Partly because of you, partly because of Owen’s snoring and partly because it’s Christmas Eve.”
Chloe decided to skip over the first part of his answer. She wasn’t ready to address the fact that he’d been thinking about her tonight, too. “You’re a big Christmas Eve fan?”
“Not exactly.”
She sighed. “Your answers always leave me with more questions.”
“Maybe you should ask better questions. My turn. What’s your favorite Christmas memory?”
She thought back, but all her memories muddled into one endless loop. It was hard when Christmas lasted all year in her house. “Honestly, they’re all good. But I think my favorite Christmas was the year the pond froze and we all went ice skating on Christmas morning.”
Ethan smiled. “How old were you?”
Chloe thought back. “Probably nine or ten. I used to love to ice skate.”
Ethan’s smirk grew.
“What?”
“I’m just imagining nine-year-old Chloe. You must’ve been a tornado of hair on ice,” he teased tugging on a strand of hair sticking out from her messy topknot.
“Hey!” she swatted at his hand playfully. “I clean up when I try.”
“I like that you don’t try.”
When Ethan looked at her it felt like all the air in the room had been vacuumed out. Chloe needed to keep him talking, otherwise she knew her lips would find a way to his. Before she could think of another question, Ethan asked one.
“So, ice skating, huh? Do you still do it?”
“No. It’s been years since. The pond rarely freezes enough anymore and I don’t even have a pair of skates that fit.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just outgrew it.” Chloe was noticing that was a theme lately. She’d outgrown her love of her family business, she’d outgrown her small town, she’d outgrown her skates, maybe she’d even outgrown Brady. Because for the life of her she couldn’t remember a single thing about him that she liked better than every part of Ethan.
She pulled her blushing thoughts back to their conversation about skating. “I miss it,” she said quietly. “My grandpa used to tell me he was going to take me skating at Rockefeller Center.”
“Did he?”
She shook her head as sadness filled her heart. “He didn’t get the chance.”
“What happened?”
Chloe’s eyes met Ethan’s and she was grateful she didn’t have to say the words. She recognized the understanding in his calm green eyes. She forced a smile. “Maybe some day I’ll get to.” Wanting to change the subject she asked Ethan another question. “What’s your favorite Christmas memory?”
He shrugged. “Probably this.”
“This? Sitting on a couch with a stranger? And it’s not even Christmas.”
“You’re hardly a stranger, Chloe.”
The way he said her name made her blood sizzle. Never had her name sounded so sexy. Chloe put her mug of cocoa on the coffee table. It was making her too hot. And so was the damn robe she was wearing. She untied the belt and shrugged out of it, laying it over the back of the couch.
Ethan watched her movements with interest.
“You know, you still haven’t answered my question,” she said as she g
ot comfortable.
“Which one?”
“What’s so special about Christmas Eve?”
Ethan’s expression hardened and he took a sip of his cocoa.
Ethan
If Owen were here he’d be changing the subject right about now. He never wanted to talk about this. But what did it matter if he told Chloe? It’s not like Ethan would be hurting his chances with her. She was hung up on her ex and in all likelihood Ethan would never see her again after he went back to Manhattan. Maybe saying the truth out loud would help him heal. God knew nothing else had.
Ethan pondered how to answer. Owen would be pissed, but it wasn’t Ethan’s fault that his brother hadn’t told Margot all the messy details of their family. Owen should’ve thought of that before he brought Ethan here and intertwined their lives. Besides, Margot would find out eventually if Owen was as serious about her as he said.
He set his mug of hot cocoa down on the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees. “The thing about Christmas Eve is that it’s the day Victoria Townsend died.” He took a breath. “She was my mother.”
The crackling of logs in the fireplace was the only sound in the room. Ethan focused on the dancing yellow-orange flames, watching the glowing embers pulse with life. The warmth coming from the hearth comforted him but it did little to dull the chill of his words.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said her name out loud and he hated that. Before his mother died, her name had been everywhere. Her initials monogramed on pillows, purses, towels, and such. And it was always in the newspaper. ‘New York Heiress donates millions’ and other such headlines were synonymous with her name. Ethan was always so proud to call her his mother.
She had come from an extremely wealthy family—old money, born and bred in New York’s high society. His father, however, had no money of his own before marrying Victoria. And if it were up to Alexander Hall, Ethan and Owen would’ve been left penniless and on the street the moment she died. Thankfully, Ethan’s grandmother had stepped in to see that didn’t happen. But it wasn’t long before she left them, too. In the end, none of them had really been Ethan’s to lose anyway.
He hadn’t realized Chloe had moved closer until he felt her hand slip into his.
“I’m sorry,” she said, softly.
He nodded, chewing hard on his bottom lip to keep his emotions in check.
“When did she pass away?” Chloe asked.
“Six years ago today.”
“What happened to her?”
“Cancer.”
Chloe squeezed his hand. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“No,” he said quickly, his eyes suddenly finding hers.
He was surprised to see something other than pity there. That wasn’t what he craved. He craved understanding, compassion, connection. And he saw each of those emotions in Chloe’s bright eyes. They glowed like liquid amber in the firelight and Ethan wanted to drown in them.
He wanted to dive in and bathe in Chloe’s warmth and beauty, leaving his sorrow behind. He wanted to let her kiss away all the grief that refused to ever fully let go of him. But more than that, he wanted to feel he was allowed to miss his mother. Because he did—even after everything she kept from him.
20
Chloe
Chloe sat silently next to Ethan, keeping a gentle pressure on his hand to let him know she was there. She didn’t know what to say. It was clear Ethan was struggling with his emotions. How could he not be?
She couldn’t imagine how she would ever deal with losing either of her parents, especially at such a young age. Sure, she didn’t love having to spend all her free time working in the family business, but she loved her family. She loved how she always knew they were there for her and how she could talk to them when she needed to. It was something she suddenly realized she’d taken for granted.
Memories of some of her favorite times with her parents began to flash through Chloe’s mind. Ice fishing with her father, baking Christmas cookies and pies with her mother, riding on her father’s shoulders when they walked through the rows of Christmas trees, her mother teaching her to cook and play piano and drive and everything else in between. She’d miss it all. Even the way they ridiculously broke into dance anytime a song they loved came on the radio. Her family was her world.
But one day they would be gone.
An overwhelming sadness gripped Chloe as she thought about what it would be like if she’d lost out on even a single moment she’d had with them. Those moments would have to be enough to sustain her one day. The thought left a hole in her heart. Ethan’s mother was already gone. He wouldn’t have very many memories to carry with him.
“Would you tell me about her?” Chloe finally asked.
Ethan looked surprised, his green eyes bright in the firelight. “My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I do.”
Ethan sat back on the couch, watching the fire with a strange smile on his face. It was almost a full one—almost. But Chloe couldn’t help noticing that the slightest hint of frown remained. Maybe the weight of the grief he carried wouldn’t let him smile with his whole heart. She could understand that.
“No one’s asked me to talk about her in so long I don’t even know where to start.”
“How old was she?”
Ethan looked at her again, pain in his eyes. “Forty-one.”
Chloe’s heart dropped. Her mother was forty-one. She couldn’t imagine losing her now. She still seemed so young and vibrant. “You said she had cancer?”
“Yes. Lung cancer.” He shook his head. “You know she never even smoked a cigarette once.” His knuckles tightened around the mug. “It should’ve been him.”
“Who?” Chloe asked.
“My so-called father. He still smokes. If the world was fair he would’ve been the one to get lung cancer.”
Chloe heard the unmistakable hurt in Ethan’s voice. His words were harsh and he most likely didn’t mean them, but she couldn’t hold it against him. She had no idea how she would react if she were in Ethan’s shoes. She imagined grief of this magnitude could freeze even the warmest of hearts.
“So your father is still alive?” Chloe asked.
Ethan huffed a laugh. “Alive and well. He’s actually on an Alaskan cruise with his new family right now. They go every year.”
Chloe’s mouth fell open. “And you and Owen aren’t invited?”
“No.”
Chloe watched the muscles in Ethan’s jaw feather with anger. She didn’t want to push him, so she sat quietly next to him, still holding his cold hand.
“He got remarried a few months after my mother died. He has two new children with his new wife. I’ve never met them.”
“You’ve never met your half siblings?”
Ethan slowly shook his head. “They’re not my half anything.” He took the saddest breath she’d ever heard before continuing. “After my mother died we found out we were adopted. My father told us. He tried to have us cut out of the will when he found out my mother left all of her wealth to us. He told us he’d never even wanted us and that it was our mother’s idea to adopt us. So not only did we lose our mother that Christmas, but the only family we’d ever known.”
“Ethan . . .” Chloe felt the way Ethan began to tremble and she took the mug from him so she could hold both of his hands, squeezing them in hers. She felt tears of sympathy pressing at her eyes when she took in the anguish on Ethan’s face. The firelight made his grief seem etched in stone. “That’s . . . I don’t even know what to say.”
He tried to laugh but it was a bitter, strangled sound. “Neither did I.”
“Did your father really disown you?”
“He tried, but my grandmother stepped in. She made sure my mother’s wishes were carried out.”
A tiny bit of comfort filled Chloe momentarily. At least Ethan and Owen hadn’t been totally alone. “She sounds like a good person.”
“She was,” Ethan replied.
Was? Chloe was afraid to ask.
“My grandmother passed away four years ago. Owen was eighteen so I filed for emancipation so we could both be granted access to our inheritance.”
Inheritance? Emancipation? Ethan’s life sounded so foreign to Chloe that she found the bond growing between them strange, but it was there nonetheless. She hated that his life had been full of so much pain and loss, while hers had been mostly carefree.
But maybe that was what bonded them?
She was strong where he was weak. She was stable where he was unsteady. She was whole where he was broken. Maybe she was what he needed. The connection she felt to him was undeniable and now that he had opened up to her, she understood why. She’d always loved healing people—and she’d never met someone who needed to be healed more than Ethan Hall.
“I’m so sorry, Ethan. I had no idea.”
“How could you? It’s not like anyone in my family ever talks about it.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “It’s like everyone just wants to get over it and move on.”
Chloe’s heart cracked wide open. “Ethan, I know I don't really know you that well, but what happened to you and your brother . . . that’s not something you should ever be expected to get over.”
“I know,” he said sadly. “I try not to dwell on it. Things could be worse. I have a good life. And I have Owen. But sometimes it’s just hard. Especially around Christmas.”
“I'm sorry,” she said again. “I didn't mean to make things worse.”
He gave her a tight smile. “You didn't. Actually, it’s kind of nice to talk about this.”
Chloe squeezed Ethan’s hands. “I can listen if you want to talk more,” she offered.
A small kernel of hope blossomed in Ethan's green eyes. “You don't mind?”
“Not at all.” Chloe scooted closer to him on the couch, pulling her favorite fuzzy plaid blanket between them.
The Winter Boyfriend: A Stand-Alone YA Contemporary Romance Novel (The Boyfriend Series) Page 11
