Page 41 of When We Ignite

I took their mother’s hand. “Sebastian. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Margaret, dear. It’s lovely to meet you as well,” she replied, the pale blue of her eyes strikingly familiar. I had her to thank for that.

“And Henry, our kid brother,” Oliver continued.

“You make me sound like I’m Ethan’s age,” Henry joked, shaking her hand with his usual grin.

I shook their stepdad, Thomas’s, hand and kissed Charlotte’s cheek before turning to Ethan. His expression was wary, his posture stiff.

“Ethan,” I greeted, extending my hand. My smile was impossible to suppress. He hesitated, giving me a slight shake of his head before taking my hand.

My eyes immediately caught on his wrist. The bracelet gleamed faintly in the evening light. My grin widened, but I managed to keep it subtle. He pulled his hand away quickly, his face twisting in embarrassment.

This wasn’t new to me. I was used to gift-giving as part of the ritual, but I’d never felt the thrill as strongly as seeing him wear it—seeing a piece of me on him. I had to force myself to focus as Charlotte said something, and I realized I hadn’t caught a word.

“I’m so sorry, dear. Didn’t catch that,” I said, lightly placing my hands on her shoulders.

She laughed, a soft sound that reminded me of Ethan’s. “I asked if you’d like a glass of wine. My mother had it specially shipped.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied, walking with her to the table.

I sat beside her and Oliver while Ethan positioned himself at the far end near his stepdad. He looked great, and I tried not to glance at him every five seconds—or catch a glimpse of his wrist.

Dinner passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, the wine flowing freely. I noticed Ethan barely touched his glass. He looked uneasy, a little withdrawn from the conversation, but more than anything, he seemed intent on avoiding any interaction with his mother.

I excused myself for a cigarette, hoping he’d follow, but he didn’t. The disappointment settled heavily, even as I told myself he was just being careful.

When I returned, Ethan and Henry had stepped away to smoke, sharing Ethan’s vape as they laughed easily. Watching him with my brother, his shoulders relaxed, his grin easy, sent a sharp twist through my stomach. The sight shouldn’t have bothered me—it was just Henry—but it did. Henry had a way with people that was just enviable. He made quick friends with anybody—lasting friends. I distracted myself by staring at his wrist, the bracelet standing out against his skin.

As their parents excused themselves for bed and said their goodbyes, I lingered behind Ethan. One too many glasses of wine had loosened my restraint.

He didn’t notice me at first as I approached. Careful to stay out of sight of the others, I gently touched his forearm. He tensed as I let my finger slide down his smooth skin to his wrist. My thumb grazed the bracelet before I leaned in slightly.

“Please come up to my room,” I whispered.

His head shook, barely perceptible. Disappointment settled in my chest, making that persistent ache worse. “Please,” I repeated softly, releasing his wrist and letting my fingers brush the small of his back as I stepped away.

“I have to fetch something. I’ll be right back,” I said louder, heading toward my room.

Once inside, I stood by the door, feeling like an idiot for waiting. I was sure he wouldn’t come, but my stomach dropped when the doorknob turned and Ethan peeked inside.

I managed a tight smile as he stepped in quickly, closing the door behind him.

“I had no idea which room was yours, and there’s like a million of them. You could have given me a bit more information,” Ethan complained.

I took a step toward him, and he backed up against the door, looking up at me with wide, baby-blue eyes. I pressed my palm against the door beside his head. “I’m sorry,” I breathed, glancing down at his arm. Running my hand from his shoulder to his wrist, I felt the warmth of his skin under my palm.

“What…?” he began, his voice breathless.

I closed my hand around his wrist, lifting it slightly and pressing it back against the door. He looked overwhelmed and confused, even as my touch raised goosebumps on his skin.

I knew I should pull away, but I couldn’t. I kept my eyes fixed on his wrist for a moment before letting go and stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered again, running my hands through my hair.

Ethan remained where he was, his lips parted.

“I don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice soft. “Is this like a sex thing for you?”