Chapter 3

"Grace!" Ethan called out. He grabbed my arm.

I pushed his hand away, no trace of anger in my voice. "It's fine. I just forgot my crutches."

He frowned. "Why do you need crutches?"

I said calmly, "Because my leg is broken."

For a moment, he froze.

Maybe he remembered the excuse he'd just given me: he was worried about Madeline might potentially break a bone.

His expression became very complicated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

This was the first time he'd voluntarily apologized. He even bent down to help me up. "Let me carry you to bed."

Unexpectedly, I shook my head and pushed him away. "It's okay. Just hand me my crutches, they're by the door. I can walk over myself."

He didn't move. "Wouldn't it be better if I carried you?"

In the past, if he offered to carry me, I'd have been thrilled and jumped into his arms.

But now, for some reason, the offer held no appeal.

I gave a light smile. "No need. I can manage."

He looked at me, his gaze intensely complicated. "You are still angry, aren't you?"

I was taken aback. "No, I'm not."

In the past, he was impatient when I got angry. I couldn't figure out why this time it was different.

He took a step closer. "If you're mad, just say it, okay? It's not like I won't listen. Why are you acting like this?"

Ethan hated arguing.

He was sharp, could pinpoint logical flaws in an instant, yet he'd repeatedly turned down the university debate team.

After starting work, he became even more succinct.

If I was upset, he'd avoid me.

He'd say, "I'm exhausted from work all day. I don't have the energy for your baseless accusations.

"I listen to Maddie because she's fragile, and we've been close since we were kids. What's wrong with me being there for her?

"If I really liked her, you wouldn't be here. Besides, she doesn't constantly accuse me. Can you stop comparing yourself to her all the time?"

Those words used to pierce me, over and over.

Now, thinking back, I felt nothing.

Instead, I was curious why he suddenly wanted me to 'speak my mind' now.

I sighed. "I'm not angry. Really."

His breathing hitched slightly. "Then why won't you let me help you?"

"Because," I still wore that faint smile, as if the pain of waking during surgery was a distant memory, "when I came out of the operating room, I managed on my own then too."

He froze. "You had surgery?"

I nodded. "You seemed busy. I didn't tell you."

Ethan's eyes reddened slightly. When he looked at me again, there seemed to be a hint of pain. "You should have told me."

I shook my head. "It's in the past. I managed alone then, and now I'm in recovery. It's even less of a problem."

He looked down, his breathing deepening slightly.

When he looked up again, there was more guilt in his eyes. "So you do blame me for not being there."

I was tired of explaining. "I really don't. Could you please just pass me my crutches? I want to sleep, okay?"

"If you're not angry, why won't you let me take care of you?" He took a small step toward me.

I was done. I didn't answer. Hopping on one foot, I stumbled to the doorway, grabbed my crutches, and said, "Don't overthink it. Let's just sleep."

His fists were clenched tightly.

I ignored him and went straight to the bedroom.

After I lay down, I heard his angry voice: "Fine. Have it your way. I'm going to check on Maddie."

With that, he slammed the door shut.

I glanced at the door, reached over to turn off the light, rolled over, and closed my eyes.

Soon, I was fast asleep.