Page 68 of Writing On The Wall

As I glance back at her, a hint of sadness touches my smile. I just want her to let me help. I wish she’d get it—that it would be my greatest joy to ease some of her burdens.

“I fixed the secret door in the master bedroom. It has a handle on the inside and a door wedge to prop it open,” I tell her, ignoring her last protest.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her expression etched with desolation.

It’s agonizing, getting in my truck and driving away when my heart is demanding I run back and scoop her into my arms. But I can’t force her into this. I have to let her meet me in themiddle, or at least some of the way. I just pray she’ll do it willingly—and soon. Because If I have to walk around with this feeling churning in my gut for too long, I’m one-hundred-percent certain it’ll break something inside of me that will never be repaired.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

IVY

It’s rare for me to leave school before three in the afternoon, but today I had an appointment to get my stitches removed, so I had to get a sub to cover my class. I’m very grateful to have the stitches out, because my kids are huggers, and hugs around my middle have been a little uncomfortable with all the poky bits pulling at my skin.

Now I’m heading home earlier than usual, excited and nervous about what I might find when I get there. I haven’t seen Ethan since our awkward encounter last week. A gut-twisting uncertainty swirls in my stomach—the fear of not knowing which version of Ethan will be there to greet me. Is he still going to be the flirtatious guy who loves pushing my buttons, the overprotective grump, or the sullen, painfully platonic acquaintance? And the worst part is that I’m not even sure which one I’m dreading—or hoping for—more.

I’m also dying to explore Gran’s hidden closet again, but I haven’t dared to go in alone. Which means I’ll either have to wait for Toby or Ember to join me, or I’ll have to do the scarything and ask Ethan to accompany me, like I’m a Regency damsel who can’t go anywhere alone.

The twang of country music floats through the screen door, greeting me as I walk up the porch steps. My lips tug up at the door that no longer whines when I push it open.

I stop mid-stride, narrowly avoiding a tumble as I trip over the threshold. My fingers cover my parted lips as I take in the newly exposed wood floors that flow seamlessly across the open floor plan and into the kitchen. For just a split second, I seriously reconsider everything I’ve told Ethan, because as I take in the form of the man currently wielding an industrial sander like a renovation god, I can’t help going all gooey inside.

Let’s be real, the man is beyond easy on the eyes. But he’s so much more than that. He’s still here, even after I’ve all but chased him away and told him to go on and date other women. He’shere…when he could literally be anywhere else.

Snap out of it, Marsh!

Right. Stick to the plan.

The buzzing of the sander slows as Ethan turns it off, smiling at me like I’ve just delivered his favorite meal. When in reality, all I’ve brought with me is my usual drama and chaos. I’m the ammunitions delivery to a war zone—highly volatile. I still can’t figure out why he’d evenwantto be here. But seeing as he is, I may as well ask for the favor I need, because I’m aching to explore the secret closet.

“Hey.” The gray in his eyes swirls and twinkles as he grins at me. “How was your day?” he drawls. So, it seems Adorably Chipper Ethan is here. I hadn’t expected that one.

“It was good…” I pause as the smell of warm, freshly sanded wood fills the air. “The floors look amazing.”

“Yeah.” His eyes sweep over the fruit of his labor. “They were in better condition than I thought they’d be.” A chuckle rumbles out of him, the sound luring me in while my insides areat war over whether I want a flirty comment to fall from his lips. He gives me nothing but a crinkly eyed smile before turning to continue sanding.

I disappear to my room, bunching up scattered items of clothing with my fists. They’re thrown into the wash basket with more force than necessary, but I don’t dare open my mouth or stomp a foot in frustration. I won’t allow myself to be that sulky brat who throws a tantrum because she’s getting what she asked for.

My room is cleaner than it’s ever been by the time Ethan taps on the open door.

“Hey, need anything else before I head out?”

Go on. Ask him.

I pinch my eyes closed, rubbing a hand over them. The poor man is about to think I’m an absolute whack job, demanding space then asking him to stay close.

“Uh…yeah. Could you hang around for a few minutes? I want to explore the hidden closet, but…” My eyes roam the room as I try to come up with a legitimate-sounding excuse. I’m drawing a blank, though. Seriously, nothing. Of all the times for my brain to space out on me!

“You don’t wanna go in alone,” Ethan finally finishes for me.

Dang it, why is he so intuitive? It’s incredibly inconvenient and wildly swoon-worthy. A small groan escapes as I roll my lips in with a nod. He steps back, motioning with his hand for me to lead the way.

I release a slow, controlled breath as Ethan follows me down the hall to the master bedroom.I can do this. Remain strong.

Ethan opens the door, propping it open with the cutest hedgehog doorstop.

I turn to him with wide eyes and a smile that’s desperate to break loose. “Where did you get this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was always here.” He sniffs, a tiny dent on his brows as he scans the room. He walks past me, and I pick up the little hedgehog, turning it over to find a fresh price tag stuck to the underside of its cute little butt.

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