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AURORA

We descend from our post-sex high, catching our breaths. Sudden raindrops batter the windows, the pitter-patter growing louder, obscuring the sounds of the city below.

The downpour blurs the outdoor lights, transforming them into fragmented glimmers that dance across the room. The storm brings a sense of tranquility, and the security of being in Ethan’s arms allows me to relax, fatigue taking hold.

Tomorrow, I have another long day, and I’m pregnant, which leaves me perpetually tired. Add sex with Ethan, and yeah, I’m exhausted.

Yet, my brain won’t shut off, constantly preparing for the next impending fallout, betrayal, or heartbreak. My anxiety and trauma are raising alarm bells, all because the man beside me is quiet.

He’s lying on his back, my head on his chest, his fingers in my hair, a blanket thrown over us. His broody demeanor suggests something is plaguing his mind.

“Are you staying?” I ask. “Tonight?”

He has a team to coach. I know he won’t be here long, but I fear he’s pulling away because we’re getting too close. Or maybe it’s because I refuse to leave with him.

I’ve lost Jackson and might lose Ethan because I can’t bear to be near Jackson—the irony.

Ethan clears his throat. “Just tonight. I have to fly back tomorrow evening.”

I yearn to run my fingers through his hair and kiss his neck, but I don’t.

I’m affectionate—or clingy, whatever. It’s part of my personality and everything I need to be happy. But right now, I’m not up for the disappointment of Ethan’s rejection.

When I remain silent, he asks, “Are you staying in New York?”

If leaving is his ultimatum, our relationship will be over before it starts.

My muscles tense, readying for a fight. “I signed a contract for seven weeks.”

His fingers pause while combing through my hair. “That puts you at six months pregnant. I need you home, taking care of yourself and the baby.”

Raw vulnerability resonates in his voice, and I nearly cave.

I want him. I want this. But the three of us are so intertwined, it’s impossible to separate him and Jackson. I can’t go back to LA and risk seeing my ex and falling apart. I need space and time to figure myself out.

Ethan kisses my forehead, breaking me from the uncertainties wreaking havoc inside my mind. I glance up, and his thunderous gray eyes capture me, their intensity matching the storm raging outside.

His brows furrow in that distinctive scowl. “Come home with me. I can give you everything you need.”

In my heart of hearts, I would love nothing more than to surrender fully to Ethan, but I’ve already done that with another man, and look where that got me.

“Don’t you think the next step should be dating before we move in together?”

“I think we’ve skipped a few steps.” He glances at my stomach. “I also think this isn’t about me.”

His stern gaze penetrates through me, dissecting my insecurities with surgical precision.

As usual, he’s right, and, at an impasse, we stare at each other.

His expression softens, and before I’m able to brace myself, he slips past the walls I’ve painstakingly erected.

“You can talk to me about Jax.”

I wince. That shortened name, a term of endearment, is a sharp knife piercing my soul. I realize Ethan will continue to call him Jax —will continue his close relationship with my ex.

Where does that leave me? On the outside? Or constantly being confronted with the greatest loss of my life?

No thanks.

I push away, opening my mouth to end this, when his arms tighten around me.

“What did I tell you? Don’t try it, Aurora. It’s pointless.”

“This won’t work.” I swallow the painful lump in my throat. “I’m not returning to LA.”

He clenches his jaw, and his nostrils flare. “You are, even if I have to drag you back. Jackson relapsed—it’s part of addiction. He didn’t mean it.”

Tears of anger sting my eyes, and I laugh incredulously. How many times did I tell myself the same thing? He didn’t mean it.

Fuck that.

I hurl all my hurt and frustration at Ethan in a single word. “Don’t.”

He ignores my plea. “I was there. I saw the devastation on his face when he found out what he did. He’d never cheat on you.”

“But he did, and where is he?”

Ethan’s cheeks flush, and I know I’ve got him.

“I thought he’d be here with you.”

“So that’s why you’re here: searching for him.” I shove at his chest in vain. “Let me go!”

“No,” he grits through his teeth. “I came here for you. I don’t want to lose you. You can’t run from this. You can’t run from him . He may not be here now, but he will be.”

“How do you know that? Have you talked to him?”

Why am I asking? Why do I even care?

His deep flush spreads, and his ears redden. “I’ve tried.”

I don’t have the energy or strength to worry about where Jackson is; in the end, I’ll only blame myself.

Giving in to the fatigue, I rest my head on Ethan’s shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut, failing to prevent the dread his words provoke.

He brushes away the tears I can’t stop from escaping. When he speaks, his voice is strained. “I’ll find him. I’ll send him to rehab. He loves you?—”

“I. Don’t. Want. Him. Back,” I say with conviction.

Then, guilt and fear take hold, that boyish smile flashes through my mind, and I crumble.

I sob into Ethan’s chest, reliving the nightmare.

He envelops me in his firm embrace and tucks my head under his chin, his touch and gentle tone easing my grief.

“I’m here, baby. You don’t have to bear this pain alone. Let me fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes.”