Chapter 42

It didn't take me long to pack the few belongings I had gathered since the fire. Afterward, I made sure the guest room was back in the same order it was when I first arrived, as I held back my tears.

Taking a deep breath, I composed myself and walked back into the living room, placing my bag by the doorway. All that was left to do now was find the strength to leave, to walk out that door and never look back. Restless and anxious, my stomach churned, and I paced the living room, tormented by my thoughts. I didn't want to go, and the idea of leaving Ethan tore me apart. How does one detach their heart and leave it behind? Sure, the door to seeing him wasn't closed since we still worked together, but after what we had shared, that relationship could never be enough. However, now that Ember had discovered our affair, I needed to end it. I had to make things right, or as right as they could be after the chaos I had caused.

Brushing away another tear, I was distracted by Flanagan's bark. I followed his gaze and watched as Ethan entered through the front door. Ethan bent down to greet Flanagan, deliberately avoiding looking in my direction. I could tell the moment he noticed my bag, as he flinched slightly and his body tensed up. After a few seconds, he stood up straight. "I was, uh, going to ask if you were hungry, but..." his voice trailed off, thick and low, still avoiding eye contact.

"Actually... I'm starving," I whispered. His gaze dropped to my bag once more.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Positive," I replied before turning and making my way to the kitchen. Ethan followed me slowly, and once in the room, he paused briefly before going to the refrigerator.

He rummaged through its contents. "There should be some hamburger meat in here somewhere," he said, pushing aside a gallon of milk. Not finding what he was looking for, Ethan moved the milk in the other direction. Still not locating the meat, he opened a drawer and peered inside. He reached in and pulled out a package.

"We can grill some burgers..." his words trailed off as he almost crushed the package in his hands, freezing in place. "Uh... that is, if you're planning to stay long enough for that," he said, his voice low and emotionless once again.

"Got any cheese?" I asked. At this moment, I was willing to do anything to delay my departure. I wanted to prolong it just a little bit more because deep down, I knew that when I walked out that door for the last time, my heart would ache.

He nodded at my question, giving me permission to continue. "Pickles?"

Pushing the milk around on the shelf and examining a few other items. Eventually, he pulled out a jar and presented it to me.

"I'm all yours," I declared, noticing the sharp intake of his breath and the tension that seized his body upon hearing my words. Although my heart was heavy and I longed to weep, I joined in and stoically molded hamburger meat right alongside Ethan. Each patty we shaped brought us closer to the end, and with each one, a part of me died.

Soon enough, the aroma of charred meat filled the air, and as Ethan flipped the patties, I prepared the lettuce, sliced the onions, and diced the tomatoes. Then, I rummaged through the cabinets until I found buns, paper plates, and a few napkins. With the preparations complete, I arranged everything on the table just as Ethan entered with the cooked patties.

All was ready and waiting for us, yet neither of us made a move to fix a plate. After a few minutes, Ethan cleared his throat. "Let's eat, then," he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm.

An hour later, our meal had settled, and I found myself outside in the yard, gathering fallen tree limbs. Ethan stood on the top rung of the ladder, trimming the tree above us. With each limb I added to the growing pile, I berated myself for clinging onto time like a parasite.

The tension in the air grew thicker, as we both knew that goodbye was drawing nearer. Tossing another limb onto the pile, I glanced up at Ethan. "Would you like something to drink?"

He nodded. "There's beer in the fridge."

I entered the house and retrieved two beers from the refrigerator. Returning outside, I approached Ethan just as he descended from the ladder. Opening the bottles, I handed one to him. He took it, raised it to his lips, and drank half of its contents. Then, he pressed the cool bottle against his forehead and rubbed it back and forth on his heated skin. Unable to stay still, I twiddled with the lid of my beer using my fingers. "It's time for me to leave," I finally uttered.

Jerking the beer away from his forehead, he looked down at it, his expression darkening. "Fine, then! Grabbing for the cigarettes in his pocket, he took out the pack and shook one loose before lighting it with unsteady hands.

"You saw my bag. You knew I was leaving," I whispered.

Ethan flinched and hissed. "Before you go, let me thank you for showing me how it feels to be completely screwed over. In more ways than one..."

His words were barely out of his mouth when my hand connected with his cheek in a powerful slap. "Take what you've learned and go screw yourself with it then!" I spat.

After I spoke, I turned on my heel, tears welling up once again, and stormed towards the house. Bursting through the front door, I grabbed my bag and purse, searching for Thurston while a muffled sob escaped my lips. I found him lying on the couch, scooped him up, and turned only to see Ethan standing motionless behind me, watching but saying nothing.

With Thurston complaining in my arms, I stormed past him and stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind me. The loud echo it made was almost as deafening as the shattering of my heart.