Page 21 of Off Season

I rouse at the rumble of Ethan’s voice, slowly blinking my eyes open. My neck aches from falling asleep at anawkward angle against the car window, and I let out a groan as the sun hits me in the eyes.

I don’t remember a single thing since we got off the plane and collected our suitcases. Jet lag is hitting me like a freight train, leaving me a little delirious. I’m not sure I can remember my own name right now.

After we had some food on the flight, the cabin crew made up our beds, and the anxiety must’ve wiped me out because I slept the entire flight—holding on to Ethan’s hand. He must’ve been so uncomfortable, but he didn’t say a word about it when I woke up. He just gave me one of his small smiles and carried on reading his book.

Oh, and another thing that has added fuel to my very inconvenient crush?

Ethan wears glasses.

Yep. He was in full-on Clark Kent mode: dark eyes, dark hair, dark-framed glasses, and a broody expression. It was a good thing I had a blanket covering me because there was no way my pants alone would be able to conceal the semi I was sporting from the visual.

I apparently revert to my teenage years whenever I’m close to him.

Ethan opens the door to the rental car and gets out, the sound of the door closing behind him snapping me out of my daydream. I shield my eyes and open my own door and see the stunning house for the first time.

Vivid wisteria climbs up one side, a pop of color against the centuries-old sandstone. Stone mullion windows give it that typical British country home vibe you see in magazines, along with the immaculately landscaped grounds.

It’s picturesque. Postcard-worthy.

“Is this your house?”

“Yeah. Do you like it?” I note the slight hesitation in his voice.

I turn around to face him, shocked. How could anyone dislike this?

“Ethan, it’s beautiful.”

He smiles coyly, like my words mean a lot to him.

I remember Blaine telling me they haven’t met his mom, which must mean none of them have been here to visit. Blaine has also mentioned before that they all travel during the off-season, either going back to their hometowns or on vacation.

So aside from his mom, does Ethan spend every summer on his own?

The thought makes me sad.

“Can I help?” I ask as he begins to unload our suitcases from the trunk.

He hands over the keys. “Wanna open up?”

“How long have you had this place?” I ask while unlocking the door.

“About five years,” he begins, following me into the hall. “My mom had been begging me to find something permanent instead of renting or staying in hotels whenever I visited, so when this house came on the market, I knew I had to get it.”

“What made you choose it? I mean, aside from the fact that it’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“There are no neighbors for a mile or so, and it’s still within an hour’s drive from London. It’s peaceful and fairly isolated, but close enough if I need anything. I love it.”

I look up at the exposed wood beams, taking in the plainjasmine-white walls, oak finishes, and neutral-colored carpets. It has a modern touch while keeping a lot of the original features. I don’t see any photos or the kind of finishing touches that make a house ahome. It’s so…sparse, and a part of my heart breaks at that.

My home is the house my grandparents handed down to me when I turned twenty-one. The same home they brought me and Alex up in after our parents passed away. It’s still full of memories: photos, vinyl records, ornaments, and trinkets. Each piece tells the story of something I experienced or learned from my grandparents. But Ethan’s apartment back in Chicago—and apparently his British home too—feels empty. Almost temporary. Like he doesn't know if adding a personal touch is worth it.

“Just wait until you see the backyard. It’s the best part,” he says before winking, and I damn near trip over my own feet as he catches me off guard.

“That sounds amazing.” I can’t help but grin. “But can I take a nap first? I’m so tired, I think I could fall asleep standing right here.” Right on cue, I cover another yawn with my hand.

“Of course.”

Ethan leads me up the stairs, carrying both my bags with ease. I follow closely behind, admiring how his strong arms carry the suitcases with ease.

---