Page 30 of All Her Broken Pieces

And because, like every other relationship in my life, this will end, and it’ll be messy when it happens. I can tell.

“Earth to Bridget.”

“What? Oh, you asked about ice. Um… the normal-sized cubes are fine with dinner,” I say, not willing to go into my whole speech about what ice should be used in what scenario.

He gathers up all the other ice trays and puts them back in the freezer before fixing me a glass of water with the ice I requested. After he hands me a plate, he offers me two more pain pills. “It’s been long enough that you can take two more, but I know you mentioned not wanting to rely on them. Is your pain better after your nap?”

“It’s manageable right now, as long as you don’t keep making me laugh.”

“In that case, I’ll save the pickle story for another night.”

“Asshole. You’re such a tease.”

Shooting me a flirty look, he pulls out the chair next to me and begins eating his dinner. This motherfucker chows down like he didn’t just tease me. I’m not even sure why I want to know so bad.

Breaking the silence, he offers, “I’ll tell you when you’re ready to hear it.”

“On second thought, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Liar.” He smirks as he stares ahead, never making eye contact while scooping another bite into his mouth.

We finish our meal in silence. Picking up my plate, I start to move toward the sink before Ethan’s large hand reaches out to grab my dish. The veins pop on the corded muscle of his forearm as he steals the plate out of my hand. “Let me. I can clean up in here while you relax.”

I don’t think anyone has ever said sexier words to me. Settling back into my spot on the couch, I turn on the TV to binge some mindless entertainment on one of my streaming services.

Ethan moves around in the kitchen, the clatter of pans in the sink producing a cacophony of background noises. It feels very… domesticated. I need some space. Gingerly, I rise from the couch and move toward the hallway toward my bedroom. I don’t want him to feel at home here. I already agreed to let him stay tonight, but that’s it; this isn’t becoming a thing.

“Are you headed to bed?” he calls out after me.

“No, uh… going to my room.”

“Have you pooped yet?”

That’s it. I pause in the hallway, one hand resting on the wall. I’m not talking to this man about my bowel movements.

“I read that painkillers can sometimes slow down your bowels. Your paperwork recommends adding a stool softener and laxative if you haven’t pooped within a few days after surgery.”

My back still to him, I take a deep breath, counting to ten before I release it. “I’m not talking to you about that,” I grit out before walking into my room and closing the door behind me. Leaning back against it, I don’t relax again until I hear the clanking of dishes resuming in the kitchen.

I can’t do this. This is too hard. Recovering from surgery would’ve been awkward but manageable if Becka or my parents were here. But Ethan? Navigating this with him feels reckless. One of us is bound to get hurt, and I pray it’s him because I’m not sure I could survive it.

CHAPTER11

Ethan

“Fucking stupid,”I mutter under my breath as I move around the kitchen putting away the leftovers and cleaning up the last of the dishes. Why would I ask her about pooping?Because I’m supposed to be her friend and nurse.While she slept, I googled everything I could about her procedure and what she could expect during recovery. Now it’s all I can think about.

Is she getting enough rest? Should I have made her stay in bed today while the pain and risk of tearing her incisions is the highest? What would she have done if I wasn’t here?

It’s what I’ve always been, the caretaker. With five younger sisters, I fell into the role naturally. Hell, I should count my father in my list of people I take care of. He’s always been immature and wild, often needing to be corralled by either my stepmom Ashley or me. Doing bedtime with him is a nightmare. He gets all the girls wound up, chasing them and tickling them while Mom and I calm them down after his antics. He’s a great father to them. And to me. But sometimes, it feels as though I raised him.

I can only imagine how wild he must have been before he met my stepmom. She seems to have tamed him, and having her and all us kids has given him a greater sense of purpose. But raising six children isn’t cheap, and he’s often at work, picking up extra jobs to help make ends meet.

Thankfully his impulsiveness skipped me. I can see it manifesting in a couple of my sisters, though. My parents will have their hands full with them now that I’ve moved out, but after Nonna died, I needed to get out of that house. Since Alyx and I work together, it made sense for us to share an apartment. Alyx and his younger sister Nyomi and his moms are like a second family to me. Where my house was loud and chaotic growing up, his family is chill and has always been welcoming. Mina always jokes that I’m her favorite stray.

It hits me how fortunate I am to have two amazing families that love and support me. Hell, the rest of the staff at Mangia Bene is like an extended family as well. The only person I’m not close to is my bio mom Monica. But Bridget? She only has three people in her life that she’s let in. Three people that she can count on—and now, when she needs someone the most, she doesn’t include them. I know she said they were busy, but I wonder if she even asked them. I wonder if she’s even told them she’s had surgery.

Soft footsteps pad down the hallway. Turning, I lock eyes with Bridget. Her brilliant blue eyes hold my gaze. She’s changed into a tiny little pajama set for bed. Fuck me, she’s not wearing a bra, and her nipples have puckered, the points pressing against the fabric of her shirt. Does she know how beautiful she is? Would she believe me if I told her?

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