Page 111 of Fragile Heart

Given Ethan’s obvious desire to avoid me, I’d intentionally stayed away from the town, from the families. It helped that there’s a winery on the outskirts of Jackson I’d been meaning to explore for most of the summer. Three hours of wine tasting and a light lunch were enough to have the ever growing pit of worry in my stomach subsiding.

Caleb sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Tears well at his easy affection, but I blink them away. I shrug and mess with a strand of my hair.

“It’s okay,” I say after a moment, making sure my voice is calm. “Grief is complicated. I’m not offended.”

Hurt, maybe. But not offended. And isn’t that embarrassing, to be hurt over Ethan grieving his bonded Omega?

“I’m going to take Phoebe out this afternoon,” I offer, changing the subject.

Caleb smiles. “She’ll love that. She missed you last week. Beau said she’s been sassy for him.”

A chime sounds from Caleb’s side of the call. He glances over his shoulder and waves to someone, acknowledging something I don’t hear.

“I’ll call tonight,” Caleb says, focusing on me. “And I’ll take you out dancing as soon as I’m back.”

I nod and offer a quick goodbye.

“I love you,” he tells me, oddly serious.

“I love you, too,” I offer, smiling just a bit. “Be safe.”

When the call ends, I leave my phone on the table and take the mug to the sink. The pans from lunch have cooled, so I fill up the sink and start cleaning them. I’m rinsing the final piece when the front door opens and a single heavy set of steps cross through the living room.

I swallow my nerves and glance over my shoulder, keeping my body relaxed and the worry off my face. Ethan has Camden in his arms, the boy’s head perched on his shoulder. Dirt coats most of his jeans and the boots he slowly toes off and leaves in a heap near the door. Camden’s eyes are half-shut, but he perks up when he notices me. Ethan eases him to his feet, and he slowly crosses the room to me.

“Hi Mommy Bri!” Camden says as he wraps his arms around my legs, grinning tiredly up at me.

Ethan stiffens at the nickname. Has he not heard it before? I could have sworn Camden called me that around him the last couple days.

“How was your morning?” I ask Camden, setting aside the pan in favor of hugging Camden.

“It was so fun,” he says with a yawn. “We spent time with Nyx. But now he needs to nap. Nana had mac and cheese ready. It’s my favorite.” He pulls something from his back pocket, and I can’t help but smile. The white daisy is smashed to bits, but thepetals have somehow managed to stay mostly intact. “Nana let me pick this from the garden. She didn’t have any purple ones.”

He yawns again as I take the flower.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He pulls away from me with another smile and crosses the large open space, sprawling on the couch and grabbing a couple of his trucks from the basket of toys beside it. Ethan settles into one of the island’s chairs, his eyes locked on his phone. Those nerves flare hot again, but I force them down.

“Did you have a good time?” I ask him.

He glances up before focusing on his phone, tapping a couple times on the screen. He shrugs. “It was fine.”

His tone doesn’t invite follow-up questions.

I take a deep breath, trying to hold off the emotions that are wanting to consume me. Maybe it’s heat drop, and it’s just my body trying to rebalance after going through a complete heat cycle for the first time in my life. I can’t remember if that’s something that happens immediately after surfacing, though. It’s not something I’ve ever worried about happening to me.

I turn back to the dishes, drying the pan and then putting them all away. When that’s finished, I clean the sink and then the counters. Anything to keep myself busy. This fear, this unholy concern over Ethan being completely apathetic toward me is probably just me reacting to being so near to both of them all the time now. And there’s probably some shit that Brett’s left behind that makes it more noticeable, too. Like when Caleb got called to the fire Wednesday morning. I’d halfway convinced myself then that Ethan doesn’t really want me here.

A high-pitched whine echoes through the kitchen.

“Brielle?” Ethan’s low voice skates over me, but it just makes the emotions swell higher.

Crap. It’s me whining again. I swallow the sound and straighten the dish towels draped over the oven’s handle. I waitfor the soft footfalls that warn me of Ethan’s approach, but there are none. Inexplicably, I want to cry. Tears line my lashes, but I blink them back. Mostly. One falls down my cheek, and I brush it aside.

“Caleb should be back in a couple days,” Ethan says, his voice suddenly cautious. He’s no closer to me, though.

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