Page 30 of Since the Day We Kissed

10

Ethan

BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!

Ethan fumbled in his pocket, silencing the insistent alarm before sliding the phone back into his jeans. “Shoot. I gotta run.” He waved the brochure. “This okay to take?”

Kara gave a small nod. “Of course, that’s what they’re for.”

“Thanks. I’d love to stick around, but I can’t be late.” Ethan whistled, patting his leg. “Come on Hero. Time to head home, buddy.”

As Ethan moved to leave, Kara’s voice blew through the air, light and just as beautiful as his memory afforded her. “If you really want to help, feel free to stop by while you’re in town. I’ll be here tomorrow—and the next day. Pretty much every day.” She chuckled, the sound soft, almost nervous, cute.

Her smile lingered, and Ethan’s gaze caught on her eyes—deep brown, just as he remembered. There was something both familiar and different about them: traces of the girl he once knew, but now grounded in a quiet confidence earned through years of life. They were inviting, magnetic even, and Ethan felt a sudden reluctance to leave.

“Maybe I will. It was good seeing you again—Kara.”

“You too.” She gave him a polite, tight-lipped smile.

Ethan shifted his weight, offering a small smile of his own. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Kara raised her hand in a half-wave, her fingers barely moving, before turning on her heel and disappearing under the billowing tent.

Twenty minutes later, the crunch of gravel under his tires signaled Ethan’s arrival at his dad’s driveway. He stepped out, unlocked the door, and headed straight to the kitchen, Hero at his side. As he moved through the familiar space, his thoughts wandered back to Kara.

Does she have a partner?...Who am I kidding?Of course she does. A woman like Kara doesn’t stay single for long.

The idea of Kara’s gentle hands intertwined with a faceless figure standing beside her ... on endless repeat. The thought—it stirred an ache in his chest, something deeper he couldn’t quite name.

Ethan rubbed his temples, willing the unwanted thoughts to dissipate.

You don’t get to wonder about that anymore. You gave up that right a long time ago.

As he cranked open the window above the sink, letting the crisp air rush in, an image of Charlotte flashed in his mind. The resemblance was uncanny—a mirror of Kara—tall, slender frame, and chestnut hair. Save one difference: Charlotte’s eyes were blue.

Hero whined, a paw striking Ethan’s thigh.

“You can go outside if you want,” Ethan said, looking down at Hero. “I’ll be an hour—you know the drill.”

Hero let out a sharp bark before trotting out through the doggy door.

Ethan shook his head and stepped into the hallway, grabbed a backpack from the pile of bags, and returned to the kitchen table. Sitting down, he pulled out his laptop, set it in front of him, and switched on the hotspot from his phone. A few minutes later, he was logged in and ready for his weekly therapy session to begin.

Ethan glanced at the clock—two minutes past the scheduled start time. Still no sign of his psychiatrist.

He began scrolling through his calendar, double-checking that he had the correct day.

As he was about to send a message to confirm, the video call ringtone chimed from his laptop.

“Hey, Ethan. Sorry about the wait. I had a session that ran over.” A middle-aged woman with kind eyes smiled at him.

Ethan let out a chuckle. “No problem. Glad I didn’t screw up the time this week.”

Dr. Hartman adjusted her glasses, her face inching closer to the camera. “This isn’t your usual setup. Are you at home?”

“No, I’m at,” Ethan said, glancing around. “I’m at my dad’s place. In Hadley Cove.”

“Of course, you mentioned this trip. How’s it going so far?”

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