Page 24

Chloe

I gently probe Ethan's swollen nose, anger and concern battling inside me. My brother winces but tries to play it cool.

"Does this hurt?" I ask, pressing lightly on the bridge of his nose as I urge him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"Nah, I'm fine," Ethan insists through gritted teeth. His bravado doesn't fool me for a second.

I shake my head, exasperated. "You're lucky Mom and Dad are out for date night. If they saw you like this..." I trail off, imagining their reactions.

Ethan shrugs, but I catch a flicker of worry in his eyes. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" I echo incredulously. "Your nose looks like a bruised tomato, and there's blood all over your shirt."

As I dab at his face with a damp cloth, I struggle to dig through the memories of this evening and make sense of them. One minute I was making out with Jackson, the next Ethan burst in like a hurricane. Now my boyfriend and brother are like mortal enemies.

Great. Just great.

"Hold still," I mutter, tilting Ethan's chin to get a better look. "I don't think it's broken.”

"Thanks, Dr. Davenport," he quips.

I roll my eyes. Even with a busted nose, he can't resist being a smartass. But beneath my irritation, relief bubbles up. At least he's well enough to crack jokes.

"Seriously though," I say, meeting his gaze and offering him a tissue. "What were you thinking, going after Jackson like that? You could've really hurt each other."

My brother snatches the tissue. Even though he’s sitting down, he seems taller and stronger than when I saw him last and Ethan’s tanned skin and scruffy beard make him look older, more like a man than my brother.

“I wanted to hurt him.”

I can't help but picture Ethan lunging at Jackson, fists flying. The image makes my stomach churn. "You both acted like cavemen. I mean, seriously? Fighting over me like I'm some prize to be won? It's ridiculous."

Ethan winces as he presses the tissue to his nose. "He had his hands all over you, Chlo. What was I supposed to do?"

"Uh, maybe not try to punch him?" I retort. "I expected better from both of you.”

A wave of disappointment washes over me when I recall the look on Jackson’s face when he swung at Ethan. Jackson, with his warm brown eyes and gentle touch, resorting to violence? It doesn't compute. He’s done literally everything he can this summer to protect me from harm.

“I can,” Ethan mutters.

I toss the bloodied tissue into the wastebasket, turning back to Ethan with narrowed eyes. "What are you even doing here? You weren't supposed to be back for another week."

Ethan shifts uncomfortably, his defensive posture softening slightly. "I wanted to surprise everyone. Caught an earlier flight."

"Some surprise.”

"Look, I'm sorry it went down like this," Ethan says. "But finding my best friend with his hands all over my little sister? What did you expect?"

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue. How do I explain that Jackson isn't just some guy? That what we have feels real and important? But doubt creeps in, Jackson's unexpected aggression replaying in my mind.

I sigh, leaning against the cool tile of the bathroom counter. "I had this whole plan, you know? I was going to tell you about Jackson and me over a coffee. Your favorite muffin, a nice chat...not this mess."

Ethan's eyebrows furrow. "How long has it been going on?” His words are hard and edged with anger still.

"Since the beginning of summer," I admit, twirling a strand of hair around the end of my finger. "It just...happened."

“Gross.”

I roll my eyes. "I was looking forward to you coming home," I say softly. "Even if I was nervous about telling you.”

He looks away. "Chlo, I—"

"No, listen," I cut him off. "You had no right to behave like that.”

“And he had no right to put his hands all over you.” His jaw flexes. “You were practically having sex in the garden.”

“Like hell we were.”

“You can’t expect me to be happy seeing him grope you. God, Chloe, he’s older than you.”

“By two years!” I remind him.

“And a hell of a lot more mature. Do you really think he’s serious about you? You’re the baby of the family and I was just trying to protect you—”

"Protect me? By punching my boyfriend in the face? How does that help anything?”

“You’ve always been na?ve.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

I can’t deny the na?ve bit. I let Brendan take advantage of me but Jackson…he’s no Brendan.

The image of Jackson's fist connecting with Ethan's face replays in vivid detail. It's so at odds with the gentle way he'd cup my face when we kissed, or how carefully he lifted me onto my bed when I broke my oil burner.

“Chlo. I just... I worry about you. After what happened with Brenda—"

"This isn't like that," I insist. “What you did was completely out of line, Ethan," I say, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You had no right to barge in like that and attack Jackson. None."

Ethan's eyes narrow, a stubborn set to his jaw that I know all too well. “You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" I sputter, incredulous. "For what? Starting a fistfight in our garden?”

"For stopping you from making a huge mistake," he fires back.

I take a step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. "You’re supposed to trust me, Ethan. I'm not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions. Jackson cares about me."

"Does he?" Ethan challenges. "Or is he just using you because you're vulnerable right now?"

The accusation hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I want to scream, to defend Jackson, to make Ethan understand. I struggle to find the words.

"Come on, Chloe. Think about it. Has Jackson ever had a serious girlfriend before? Like, ever?"

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my lips. I know he dated a lot in high school.

Ethan's expression softens slightly. "Exactly. Look he’s my best friend but even I know he's always been a player, Chlo.”

I shake my head vigorously. "People can change, Ethan. You don't know him like I do."

But even as I say it, doubt gnaws at the edges of my conviction.

"Maybe," Ethan concedes, "but has he given you any reason to believe he's serious about you? About your future together?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I think back to all the moments Jackson and I have shared over the past few weeks—the laughter, the stolen kisses, the way he looks at me like I'm the only person in the world. But when I try to picture our future...

"We haven't... I mean, it's still new," I mumble, more to myself than to Ethan.

I sink onto the edge of the toilet seat, suddenly feeling very small and very confused.

I don’t think Jackson’s taking advantage. I don’t believe he’s capable of that. I even think he’s feeling what I’m feeling. But what if he’s tricking himself, pretending he’s a relationship type of guy? What if we just got carried away playing pretend and I’m fooling myself too?

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again," Ethan says softly. “Mom told me how awful the break up with Brendan was. We were all really worried about you.”

I nod, unable to meet his eyes. "I know.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. The scent of the antiseptic I used on Ethan's nose stings slightly.

"Look, Ethan," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But these decisions are mine to make. My life, my choices."

I stand up, folding my arms in front of me. "Jackson isn't just your friend, he's become important to me too. You’ve been friends for ages. You can't throw that away over this."

Ethan scoffs, but I hold up my hand to silence him. "Please, can't you just talk to him? Clear the air? For me?"

For a moment, I think I see a flicker of uncertainty in Ethan's eyes. But then his jaw sets, his expression hardening.

"No way," he says. "I won't make nice with someone who's just going to break your heart and he should have known better than to start dating my little sister.

" He stands too, towering over me. "You might not see it now, but trust me, you're heading for heartbreak again.

And I won't stand by and watch it happen. "

As Ethan brushes past me and out of the room, his words hang in the air. I sink back onto the closed toilet seat, the plastic hard and cold against my bare legs.

I want to believe in Jackson, in us. But Ethan’s words won’t leave me alone, echoing with every mistake I’ve made before. What if I’m just fooling myself again?