The night becomes an endless loop of questions and hugs, and by the time people start clearing out, Sheriff Miller comes to us. He glances between us, the sharp look in his eyes making my stomach churn with nerves.
“At least things turned out for the better.”
Ethan and I just nod.
“I’m glad you’re both okay.”
“Thanks, Sheriff,” Ethan replies. I just stare at the sheriff with growing panic, scared Ethan will get in trouble for killing a man.
A monster.
Sheriff Miller places his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Don’t let it eat away at you, son. It was self-defense.”
Ethan nods again.
“We searched his person and found a wallet. Considering the lengths he went through to hide who he is, I was surprised, to say the least.” Sheriff Miller glances between Ethan and me. “His name’s Liam Munro. So far, we know he was studying criminal law at the University of Chicago. The Chicago police will search his apartment off-campus and notify us of what they find.”
I can’t move, only staring at the sheriff as the information settles in.
“You sure he doesn’t look familiar?” The sheriff asks me again.
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen him… before.”
“And his name doesn’t ring a bell?”
“No.”
“I’ll be in touch. Try to get some rest,” Sheriff Miller says.
Mr. Jackson stands to the side with Dad, watching the conversation. Sheriff Miller goes to shake their hands, and Mr. Jackson walks out with him.
Dad comes to us, letting out a breath of relief. He tilts his head, looking at Ethan’s face. “Did you get ice on your jaw?”
“My mom.” Ethan gestures to where Nina’s busy crushing more ice and wrapping it in a towel.
Dad pulls Ethan into a hug. “Thank you.”
Ethan just nods, and I’m really starting to get worried. It’s as if he switched off.
I’m so focused on him, I’m not thinking about what happened, what it means, or what I went through.
There’s just Ethan.
Quinn brings us each a cup of coffee, and we slump back down onto the couch, my hand still tightly gripped in Ethan’s.
Nina presses the icy towel to his jaw again until he murmurs, “It’s okay. Thanks, Mom.”
Chairs are pulled into the living room, and everyone finds a seat. There’s silence buzzing in the air, the aftermath of the day hanging heavy over us.
Still, Ethan’s not relaxing back against the couch. It’s as if he’s still on high alert and ready to fight.
He pulls his hand from mine, and wrapping his arm around me, he draws me tightly to his side. I curl my body against his, whispering, “Sit back and relax. You’re wound tight.”
He turns his face to me, and pressing his mouth to my temple, he keeps still. I feel his breaths against my skin, and holding him tighter, I burrow as close to him as I can get.
“Have you guys eaten?” Eli asks.
Dad shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll order pizzas.” Eli’s eyes are locked on his brother. “Ethan, extra cheese?”
Ethan just nods, not pulling his mouth away from my temple.
Mr. Jackson comes to sit on the coffee table across from Ethan. Leaning closer, he tries to catch Ethan’s gaze, but he still doesn’t move.
“Talk to me.”
It takes a moment, but then his lips brush against my skin. “I killed a man.”
Mr. Jackson nods. “It was self-defense.”
Ethan doesn’t respond, making my worry spike. Lifting my hand, I carefully place my palm to his jaw, and when his eyes meet mine, I say, “You protected me.”
There’s a flash of anger in his gaze, his features tightening before they relax.
“You kept me safe.”
He relaxes a little more.
“Thank you for stopping the torture.”
Ethan grips me to him, his body shuddering as his emotions seem to return. “Christ, baby,” he chokes.
With my mouth by his ear, I whisper, “I love you, Ethan.”
His arms cramp around me, almost crushing me. “Love you too.”
Mr. Jackson places his hand on Ethan’s leg. “I need you to hear every word I’m going to say.” When Ethan eases his grip on me and nods, Mr. Jackson continues, “That fucker walked into your house and attacked you. He would’ve killed you had you given him the chance. He would’ve killed Finlay. You did the right thing by ending him. I wouldn’t have done a single thing differently.”
Some color starts to return to Ethan’s face. “I know. There was no other way.”
“No guilt,” Mr. Jackson demands. “You protected what’s yours. I’m proud of you.”
The tension coiling like a force waiting to be released finally drains from Ethan, and he leans back against the couch, looking exhausted.
“I think we should skip the pizza, get cleaned up, and head to bed,” I say, thinking only of Ethan.
“Finlay’s right,” Nina agrees with me. “Are you coming with us, Ethan?”
My eyes dart from Nina to Ethan, not wanting him to go.
He shakes his head, then he looks at Dad, who instantly says, “Of course you can stay here. You don’t have to ask.”