She blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I can drive you," he said simply. "You don't have to do this alone."
The offer made sothing in her chest tighten.
She wanted to say yes.
Wanted to lean into him, let him take so of the weight pressing down on her shoulders.
But a part of her hesitated.
"I — " She bit her lip. "You have work. You can't just drop everything — "
"I can," Ethan cut in, his voice firm. "And I will, if you need ."
Riley swallowed hard, staring at him.
It was the way he said it — not as if it was so grand gesture, but as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like there was no question.
Like she mattered.
Her throat tightened.
"I…" She let out a shaky breath and gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
Ethan nodded. "It's nothing."
But to her, it wasn't nothing. It was everything.
Riley didn't know how it happened, but before she even realized it, her head was resting against Ethan's shoulder.
She wasn't sure who moved first — whether it was her seeking comfort or him offering it — but either way, she lted into his warmth.
And then she cried.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.
It was quiet, almost desperate.
The kind of crying that sneaks up on you when you least expect it, breaking past the barriers you've spent years carefully constructing.
The kind that doesn't ask permission.
Her shoulders trembled as she gripped the fabric of his shirt, her fingers twisting into the material as if anchoring herself to sothing real.
Ethan didn't speak. He didn't try to stop her or offer hollow reassurances.
He just held her, his strong hand slowly stroking through her hair, fingers threading gently at the base of her scalp.
The motion was steady, grounding, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone.
She didn't even know why she was crying like this.
Maybe it was the uncertainty, the fear of not knowing how bad things really were.
Maybe it was the guilt of being so far away while her family dealt with this on their own.
Or maybe it was just the overwhelming realization that no matter how independent she tried to be, so things were just too heavy to carry alone.
And Ethan… he was here.
She felt his deep sigh against her hair, his breath warm and steady.
His fingers never stopped moving, tracing small, absentminded patterns against her back.
He knew what this felt like.
He didn't have to say it.
She could tell from the way he held her — not in an awkward, hesitant way, but like soone who had been in this exact place before.
Soone who understood what it was like to feel helpless, to sit by and wait while soone you loved was fighting an invisible battle.
For a long ti, neither of them spoke.
The quiet hum of the city outside the apartnt window filled the silence, a distant reminder that the world kept moving, even when your own life felt like it had co to a grinding halt.
Eventually, the tears slowed.
The storm passed, leaving behind nothing but the occasional shaky breath and the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her chest.
She sniffled, pulling back slightly. Her eyes felt swollen, and she knew she probably looked like a ss.
"Sorry," she mumbled, swiping at her cheeks. "I didn't an to — "
"Don't." Ethan cut her off with a shake of his head.
His voice was firm, but not unkind. "You don't have to apologize for that."
She let out a breath, glancing down at the damp patch on his shirt.
"Still," she muttered, grimacing. "I ruined your shirt."
Ethan glanced down at the stain, then back up at her with a smirk. "It's just a shirt."
The way he said it — so casual, like it really was nothing — made her chest tighten.
Riley managed a weak laugh, though it ca out more like a sniffle. "Well, if you say so."
Ethan reached out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
The warmth of it lingered even after he pulled away.
"I'll be here first thing tomorrow," he told her, his voice low but certain. "You won't have to go alone."
Riley stared at him, her breath catching slightly.
It wasn't every day that soone willingly involved themselves in another person's life like this.
It wasn't every day that soone showed up without being asked.
And yet, Ethan was here.
Sothing about that made her throat tighten all over again.
"…Thank you," she whispered.
Ethan just nodded, his hand still resting lightly against her back.
The room settled into silence again, save for the faint ticking of a clock sowhere in the distance.
The weight of the conversation still lingered in the air, but it was softer now, like the edges had been smoothed out.
Ethan shifted slightly, leaning back into the couch.
His arm remained around her shoulders, but the tension had eased.
Riley let herself relax against him, inhaling the subtle scent of his cologne — sothing woodsy, mixed with a hint of clean linen.
It was strangely comforting.
"You should try to get so sleep," he murmured, tilting his head down to look at her.
She sighed. "I don't think I can."
Ethan humd, his fingers resuming their slow, rhythmic motion through her hair. "I'll stay until you do."
Her lips quirked upward, just barely. "You don't have to do that."
"I know," he said simply. "But I will."
Riley closed her eyes for a mont, letting herself sink into the quiet.
The exhaustion was there, creeping in at the edges, but she didn't fight it.
After a while, her breathing evened out, the weight of the day finally catching up to her.
Ethan stayed true to his word. He didn't move. He didn't rush her. He just stayed.
He took a deep breath once she had finally fallen asleep.
'Vanessa must be worried,'
Reviews
All reviews (0)