Page 73

Story: Master of Pain

I feel his eyes on me in the low light.

“Tell me about your mother,” I insist. My voice cracks with sleep and is barely louder than our breathing.

I feel Ethan’s naked body shift against mine as his fingers trail up my arm from my wrist to my shoulder. “My family really isn’t interesting compared to yours,” he tells me. The sleepiness in his voice makes it a bit lower than usual, and adds a softness that makes me hum and find his face with my own. I nudge his cheek with my nose.

“I wanna know about your family, Ethan Moore.”

Ethan’s legs tangle even more with mine and I feel his breath against the top of my chest and neck when he sighs. “My mom’s name is Annabeth, but she goes by Anne. She hates being called Beth.” His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the night and finds its way to my ears so fucking perfectly.

“Why?” I ask as I close my eyes and just listen to his voice. I trace circles on his lower back, and I feel him squirm every now and then. I smirk to myself.

Ethan reaches back and moves my hand to his hip instead, and I squeeze it firmly.

“Mm,” he hums.

“Distracted, tsk tsk,” I whisper.

He smacks my shoulder, barely making a sound, then places his hand back down. “I don’t know. Do you like being called Dan?”

I cringe. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“For the same reason as that, I suppose.”

I chuckle softly. “Point taken.”

The silence lingers for another moment or two, and I wonder if he’s falling asleep, but then he speaks again.

“Her and my dad were in college when they had me. They were just nineteen and twenty. My mother tells me the story at least once or twice a year. She’ll tell anyone who asks, and even those who don’t,” Ethan says with a long sigh. “According to her, they were rivals. Educationally, of course. They were always attempting to one-up each other. My mother usually got the upper hand, at least in her version of the story.”

I raise an eyebrow, though my eyes are still closed. “They didn’t stay rivals for long, clearly.”

“I donotlike to think about it, and my mom tries to brush over this part of the story, but I’m pretty sure they were sleeping together while still actively trying to trample each other in class,” he tells me, and I hear the embarrassment in his voice.“Regardless, they eventually realized most of the tension was their feelings for each other, and they started dating properly.”

“Properly.” I snicker. “You sound so traditional.”

“I am,” Ethan admits. “Or, I thought I was.” He clears his throat and continues. “They were only officially together for six months when my mom found out she was pregnant. She was terrified. My dad wasn’t. She says he’s the reason she didn’t lose her mind and drop out of school immediately.”

“They both stayed in school?” I ask, curious. Hearing about Ethan’s family history is oddly soothing.

“No, actually. My dad took a break from when I was born until I was a year old so she could focus on school,” he says.

“Wow, that’s…damn. Don’t know many guys who’d do that,” I say, genuinely shocked. I hold him closer to me and nuzzle my face against his cheek, slowly moving down to his neck, enjoying the warmth of our bodies under the blankets. They’re scratchy and dull compared to my own, but still.

“My father is…well, we don’t always get along, but he’s a good man. After a year, he continued school alongside her, just a year behind. My grandma died around that time. It was expected, since she was very sick, but it was really hard on everyone,” Ethan mumbles quickly, like he wants to move past that part. “So my grandfather moved in with them and took care of me while they were at school and work.”

“That must’ve given him somethin’ good to focus on.”

Ethan chuckles. “That’s exactly what he says. He says taking care of me made losing Grandma easier. He says I look just like her, too.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, sadness easing in, and I kiss his neck a couple times.

“You’ll have to show me a picture of her,” I insist.

I feel him nod.

“Do I even want to know howyourparents met?” Ethan asks.

“It’s not as bad as you’d think,” I reply.