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Groaning, half-awake, I’m sure the banging must be an open window or just the thunder from the storm that’s been going all night.
But I start wide awake once it clicks that someone’s knocking on my apartment door.
My heart’s in my throat, and the fresh memory of the eviction notice comes flooding back.
I guess this is it.
I thought it said seven days, though?
The knocking doesn’t get louder, but it doesn’t stop either.
No matter how much I try to stay quiet until I hear a familiar voice, a very deep and handsome voice.
“Krissy? Krissy, it’s Ethan. Are you in there? I need to talk to you… Krissy?”
I feel my jaw hanging open, not even needing to pinch myself to check if I’m dreaming.
This is real.
Ethan Silverthorne is at my door.
Shit.
I’ve never answered my door to anyone after dark, but knowing it’s Ethan, I’m unbolting it and pulling it open like nothing else.
I don’t care if he sees me in my pajamas. And if he minds where I live, then that’s okay. I’m evicted. This is just short-term until my next place.
But hearing him, and then seeing him in my doorway.
After I thought I’d lost him forever. I have no idea what to do or even say, but when the door swings open, Ethan’s huge frame is there to greet me.
Tall, dark, and slightly damp from the rain.
His whole body relaxes once he sees it’s me. And before he even has a chance to be the third person to tell me today, I beat him to it.
“I know, I know… I look like hell,” I gush, laughing like a maniac at my joke.
I'm laughing because I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, scream, or all three right now.
But Ethan’s eyes don’t look like he’s come here to joke around.
“I… I was just sleeping,” I murmur, feeling a ripple of nervous energy across my chest and belly when he grunts in reply.
His eyes shift from mine to my chest, making my legs press together as he returns the crotch-scanning favor I probably owe him a few of.
“Sorry to wake you,” he rasps, his thick Adam’s apple moving as he swallows hard.
The pair of us, face to face again and suddenly so stuck for words.
My instinct is to leap into his arms. Tear his clothes off and beg him to do whatever he wants to me.
“Did… Did you wanna come in?” I ask instead, instantly regretting that he has to see the place.
But unless he’s flown in through an open window, Ethan’s seen enough of the place so far to figure out it’s not the Penthouse Suite at the casino.
Lowering his head to enter, Ethan makes my tiny apartment instantly tinier. And I offer him the only chair that isn’t my bed.
He looks pained. Glancing from me and then around the room.
He doesn’t need to say what he’s thinking. I think the same thing every minute I’m in this place.
But where else is there?
I mean… Where else was there? I guess, seeing as I’m evicted and all.
“I just spoke with your landlord,” Ethan says in a low tone. I groan without meaning to.
All the feelings I have about everything, including Ethan, bubble up with every word from him.
I try to tell him, try to explain things. Try to explain that this place isn’t who I am.
But all that comes out is another dry croak before I burst into tears.
I don’t remember seeing him move, but I don’t care. His arms are around me again. His strong hands pull me in closer to him. His whole muscular body is hard up against all of me.
He holds me just how I need it right now, and Ethan doesn’t say a word.
He just holds me and lets me cry.
It’s not like he held me when I nearly fainted or even when I cut my finger.
It’s just the two of us, no casino. No work. No supervisors.
Just us.
I don’t know exactly how long he holds onto me, but an eternity of this would be nice.
Ethan doesn’t have to say or do anything. Just him being here, holding me, is enough to make me forget about everything.
Not forever, but it’s good and long enough for now.
“Why’d you come?” I sniff, looking up at him. “how’d you find me?”
“You know why, and does it matter how I found you?” he asks.
He traces a lock of my hair back from my face, which I know is all puffy and gross from me crying and blubbering.
But Ethan’s clear, dark eyes, his smile as he smears a tear from my cheek with his thumb, tells me everything I need to know.
“I’m glad you did,” I whisper, burying myself in his huge chest again.
The warmth of his body and that cologne fills my senses.
The safe feeling I’ve needed my whole life, just turning up and walking right into my crummy little apartment. And because he’s so kind and mature, he doesn’t judge me for where I live or even how I look.
