I collapse back with a shaky exhale. Last night was risky but so worth it.
That one sweet orgasm. I've never had to be quiet during sex before and the effort of holding back my sounds made everything more intense. My body heats just thinking about it.
I force myself out of bed and into the bathroom. A cool shower helps clear my head, though my skin still tingles with the memory of Ethan’s touch. I dry off and dig through my suitcase for something casual.
I go for a pair of jeans and a blue top. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and secure it with a band, not bothering with makeup. This isn't New York. This is Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and I'm having breakfast with my boyfriend's family.
My boyfriend. Is that what he is now?
I push the question aside and head for the door. In the hallway, I notice Ethan's bedroom door is open and the room is empty. He's downstairs already.
The smell of bacon and coffee guides me down the stairs and into the kitchen. Danna has made enough food to feed an army. On the table, there are pancakes, bacon, eggs, fresh fruit, and something she calls Wisconsin toast, that's basically bread fried in butter and covered with cinnamon sugar.
It's delicious and probably a thousand calories per slice.
“Eat up,” she says, piling more bacon onto my plate. “You're too thin.”
“Mom, she's not too thin,” Ethan says.
“I'll be the judge of that.” Danna refills my orange juice without asking. “Growing boys and their girlfriends need proper nutrition.”
Ethan and I meet gazes and he smiles. I wait for him to correct his mother but he doesn’t.
After breakfast, we drive to the hospital to see Jim. He's more alert today, sitting up in bed and complaining about the food. “The eggs taste like rubber,” he grumbles. “And don't get me started on the coffee.”
“You're not supposed to have coffee,” Danna reminds him.
His gaze turns to me. Despite the hospital gown and the IV in his arm, there's strength in his gaze. “I hear that Ethan is walking without crutches now.”
“He's made excellent progress. He's a hard worker,” I say, shooting Ethan a smile.
“He gets that from me.” Jim shifts in the bed, wincing slightly. “Stubbornness too, unfortunately.”
“I've noticed.”
He laughs, then coughs. Danna is immediately at his side with water, fussing over him until he waves her away.
“I'm fine. Stop hovering.”
We stay at the hospital for an hour before Danna insists we go do something fun. “You didn't come all this way to sit in a hospital room. Take Natalie to see the town. Show her where you grew up.”
Ethan tries to protest, but Lucy, who arrived while we were visiting, immediately volunteers to stay with their parents so we can escape.
Ethan takes me to the community ice rink first. It's a modest building at the edge of town, nothing like the gleaming arena where the Renegades play. In summer, the ice has been converted to a roller hockey surface, and a group of kids inmismatched gear are scrimmaging while their parents watch from the bleachers.
“This is where I learned to skate,” Ethan says as we find a seat. “My dad brought me here when I was four years old. He put skates on my feet and pushed me onto the ice. I fell about a hundred times that first day.”
I laugh as an image of a huge four-year-old trying to skate.
Ethan stares at the makeshift rink. “I used to spend every free moment here. Before school, after school, and the weekends. The rink manager gave me a key when I was twelve because I was here more than he was.”
“Ethan Ward!”
We both turn toward the voice. An older man with a weathered face and a Badgers cap is climbing the bleachers toward us, his smile wide and welcoming.
“Coach Collins.” Ethan stands to shake his hand. “I didn't know you were still around.”
“Where else would I be? Someone's got to teach these kids how to skate.” Coach Collins claps Ethan on the shoulder, then notices me. “And who's this lovely lady?”
