Chapter Seven

This was a bad idea.

I climbed into Ethan's car as he held the door for me. I was pleasantly surprised because he opened the door for me only a few times at the beginning of our relationship. I inhaled and exhaled, preparing myself for when this mistake will be thrown back in my face. Ethan climbed in next to me and asked, "Ready?"

"Where are we going?" I rebutted, avoiding small conversation until he told me what he had to say.

"A special place," Ethan said.

I shot him a look. "We are not on a date."

Ethan heaved an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as if he was giving up. "Kyle, why do you hate me so much?" he asked. "You broke up with me."

"Because it sucks knowing you're here when I wish you weren't," I admitted.

Ethan's eyes flew at me. I knew I hit a nerve because of the expression on his face. It was more than the look of someone who just lost their cat. A wave of guilt crashed over me. I shrank into myself to avoid eye contact. "Am I honestly torturing you?" he asked.

"I didn't mean it like that," I said.

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not!" I protested. "I wanted to clear my head. I needed time to breathe. But you suddenly being my roommate is suffocating because I never healed. We broke up a month ago. How do I know if I'm done or just needed space? Now, I can't find out."

I watched Ethan's hands grow white from gripping too hard on the wheel. "It doesn't have to be that way," he said.

We sat in silence, but it was deafening. I tried not to squirm in my seat, knowing that Ethan's eyes never left me. Even if he was a son of a gun. "Listen," Ethan started to say, "I know that I'm an ass. I know I treated you like shit. I will always hate myself for that. I just... I still care about you. I know you know I love you."

"For me to believe that," I said, "you'd have to show me and prove it this time."

"Are you saying you want to try again?"

I swallowed hard as something toppled to the pit of my stomach. The conversation led to a place where I promised myself not to return. It was scaring the life out of me. "I'm not so sure I want to," I said, half to myself.

Finally, the car slowed to a stop. Ethan and I looked through the window to see a winter cottage towering over our heads. It was located in the middle of the forest south of the Salt Lily Lake. A pleased look crossed Ethan's face, but a look of horror did the same with mine. The cottage was the first special memory the two of us shared. One Christmas break, Ethan's dad wanted the house for himself, mostly to be with his girlfriend-slash-now new wife, who was no older than 25 at the time. He gave Ethan the keys and told him not to come back until Christmas break was actually over. So, Ethan brought me along as his "go-away" buddy. Back then, we were eight months into our relationship. It was the honeymoon phase as anyone would call it. I was wide-eyed and curious. Ethan was smug and glorious with a warm heart. That same night we arrived at that cottage was the night I lost my virginity to Ethan.

I looked over at Ethan, eyeing his every move. "Why am I here?"

"This place is our first big memory together," he said with a small smile.

"I thought we came here to talk," I reminded him.

"We are," Ethan said. "I promise."

I followed Ethan inside. Surprisingly, the walls were warm and welcoming. The interior didn't look the same as when we first came here. With each visit, the cottaged seemed to have been renovated. I was always sad to find it different every time we came back. Ethan and I did our best to preserve memories. Now, I wish we hadn't.

I beelined for the couch, which was made with soft fabric as white as snow. It sat on top of the rug clearly made from the skin of a bear with its head untouched. I hated rugs like that. It saddened me knowing that that animal's life was not preserved the way it should. Ethan walked over to me from wherever he went, carrying back a tray of hot chocolate. He flashed a small grin as he placed the tray on the coffee table that separated us from the vibrant fireplace.

I turned to Ethan. "What is it you want to say to me?"

"I need to know if there's still something between us," he said.

"You mean a chance for me to be with you again?" I asked.

Ethan nodded.

"Why?" I questioned.

"Because it's hard to let go of someone you've been with for five years," Ethan said. "Truthfully, it feels like more because you and I have been through so much."

"Did you really come back to Minnesota to help your mom?"

"Yes," he said. "My dad has zero concerns for her. His business is chasing his new wife like a helpless dog."

"You should've stayed in New York."

"I'm glad I didn't."

Again silence washed over us. I emerged into the abyss of my head. Ethan seemed to have something weighing on his shoulders. The moment itself felt prolonged.

Suddenly, I felt Ethan's hand crawl into mine, weaving our fingers like needle and thread. My heart pounded in my ears because I didn't pull away. My hand lifted to his face. I waited patiently as his lips pressed against it. His other hand reached for my cheek, gently turning me to face him. I held his gaze, and he with mine. My breath hitched because my mind played back all of Ethan's patronizing words like a haunted film. For a moment, I was afraid Ethan would remember his hate for my eyes and bash them all over again. I could tell in his face that it was still hard for Ethan to look at them.

Yet, I let Ethan pull me in. He pressed against me, from chest to chest and hip to hip. I let his hands explore. Surprisingly, mine did too. Then it happened. Our lips touched. I have never been so frightened and raw. However, as soon as Ethan found my waist, my head swarmed with voices telling me, "No!" "Don't do it!" They reminded me of why I walked away. They had to say to me that if I find myself running into Ethan's arms again, I won't come out in one piece.

I didn't listen.

Ethan found the lock, and I gave him the key.