Page 175 of When We Ignite

He chewed the inside of his cheek, still avoiding my eyes. “Is Aria staying?”

“Yes.”

He glanced up briefly. “Would you have Henry stay if I wasn’t here?”

“I suppose so,” I admitted, watching as the corners of his lips tugged downward.

Ethan nodded again, slower this time. “I’ll see you later, then. Let me know when you’re done,” he said, standing abruptly.

His detachment caught me off guard. “I won’t be long, I promise,” I said quickly, but he only gave me a faint, practiced smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Have a good meeting, Ash.” He pulled his hand from mine.

I watched him walk away with Henry, a pang of unease tightening in my chest.

Something about this felt incredibly wrong.

* * *

I spent the last half of the meeting trying to reach him, but Ethan didn’t text me back. When I returned to the hotel, he was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Do you want to go out?” I asked.

Ethan stared out the window, his posture tense, before shaking his head. “Can we stay in?”

I nodded, taking his hand to lead him to bed. Once we were settled, I told him more in-depth about Elena’s business proposition, letting the words tumble out. I confided things I’d never said aloud—not to Aria, not to Oliver, even when we weren’t at odds. This thing with Elena had been on my mind for months. Maybe there was a way out of all this frustration, a way to escape the constant battles and endless pressure. Maybe I didn’t need Langley Enterprises.

The thought was liberating and terrifying all at once. Because if I didn’t have this company, then who the hell was I?

Ethan listened intently, his fingers occasionally tracing patterns on the sheets, but I could tell that something was still off. His silence lingered after I finished, and his brows furrowed like he was piecing together a puzzle.

I stroked my hand along his jaw, hoping to draw him out. “Can I ask you what’s wrong?”

Ethan’s eyes flicked away from mine. The silence stretched between us, but I could see the wheels in his mind turning, working through whatever was bothering him.

Finally, he spoke. “Am I the youngest person you’ve dated, Ash?”

“Yes,” I replied, meeting his gaze evenly. “You already knew that.”

“How about the smallest age gap you’ve had?”

I leaned back slightly, looking up at the ceiling as I thought. “I dated men my own age when I was younger. I’m guessing you mean more recently.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I think…around eight years. Maybe seven.” I looked back at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

His jaw tightened, and I braced myself. “If I were ten years older, would you be less ashamed of me?”

“Pet, I’m not ashamed of you. Not at all.” I curled closer, my hand threading through his hair. “You know why people can’t know. But it’s never been about shame.”

“It felt like that today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat almost choking me. “Ethan?—”

“Can we pretend for a second?” he interrupted, his eyes searching mine. “Like it’s just us, and none of this other shit matters?”

I exhaled slowly, brushing my hand down his back in what I hoped was a soothing gesture. “Sure.”