The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied.

“Want some company?”

“I’m gonna be honest, I’m a little drunk right now, but I’ll try to sober up.” He paused, then added, “That’s a yes, btw.”

“Lol, ok. I’ll come over even if you’re not sober, as long as you’re sharing.”

“You don’t like whiskey,” he sent back, remembering the night in the hotel room when she had tried it.

“I’ll bring some Diet Coke, dilute the taste a little.”

“You’re a trooper.”

“I know,” she replied, with a little smiley face that stuck its tongue out at him.

Since she didn’t know where he lived anymore, he texted her his new address and told her to stop by whenever, he would be there all night.

In the hours that ticked by, so slow they seemed spiteful, Ethan attempted to tidy up the house. He contemplated shaving, but settled for just a shower.

It had been months since he’d taken a good long look at his apartment, and in that time he had forgotten how sad and pathetic it looked.

When she still wasn’t there at nearly seven o’clock, he sent Willow a text to ask what time she would be over. There was no response, no sign she’d even read it. He scrolled back up, looking at the picture of her in her cap and gown. Since he had nothing to lose anymore, he saved the photo to his phone.

A knock at the door announced her arrival. Ethan sprung off the couch and made his way to greet her, absently running a hand over the growth on his face, wishing he’d taken the time to shave. Oh well.

He hadn’t forgotten what Willow looked like, but he had forgotten how vibrant she was in person. At least, he assumed that was it.

As soon as Willow saw him, a grin made its way to her face. Her gray eyes lit up like he was someone much more exciting than he was, and she came right in for a hug.

“Hi,” she murmured against his neck, giving him a little

squeeze.

The smell of her shampoo filled his senses and the feeling of her body against his made him question why he hadn’t tried harder—longer—to get back into contact with her.

Tugging her a little closer, he said, “Hi right back.”

She pulled back a little, still with her arms around him, and raised an eyebrow. “You have a beard-thing going on.”

“I do.” Damn, he needed to get his bearings. She was so… intoxicating, and she hadn’t even done anything yet. “Graduation agrees with you.”

She finally pulled out of his embrace, and he felt the absence immediately. “I’m not complaining. I’m looking forward to having a summer of relative freedom before college starts.”

He invited her in, his eyes wandering over the outfit she’d worn—a white denim mini skirt and a green top that only covered one shoulder, leaving the other bare. No bra that he could see.

Willow’s gaze swept the bacheloresque living room, barren of homey personal affects. A chocolate brown couch was pushed up along the back wall, a cheap coffee table directly in front of it and a mid-size television on a stand along the opposite wall. Beyond the couch he’d set up his laptop on a beat up old desk for work—it was a long stretch from the home office he used to have, but it enabled him to get the job done.

That was it, the whole living room. The generic white walls empty of photographs that only made him sad to look at, it was a place that could belong to anybody or nobody. Catalog chic.

“Nice digs,” she remarked.

He stifled a groan as she made herself at home in his living room, sitting down on his couch and patting the seat next to her. “Come talk to me.”

Slowly approaching the couch, he bit back the urge to tell her he’d like to do much more than talk to her. Too fast.

Instead, he smiled faintly and sat down beside her. It was strange, being near her again after so long. She smelled amazing, looked great, and she radiated an energy that never failed to pull him in. Ethan’s memory drifted back to the hotel, his hands tangling in her long hair as he kissed her, pulling her naked body against his.

“So… relatively free summer? Any big plans?” he asked.