Chapter 32: Who sent the text?
The air in the old Anderson mansion was thick with the weight of guilt, the kind that clung to the walls like the dust of decades past. Ethan stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the pale moonlight filtering through the tattered curtains. The glass of whiskey in Steph’s hand caught the faint glow as he swirled it lazily, the ice clinking like a rhythm counting down to something inevitable.
"Do you have to lie to her, boss?" Steph murmured, his voice low but cutting through the silence like a knife. He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving Ethan’s tense frame.
Ethan’s jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the windowsill until his knuckles turned white. "I didn’t entirely lie," he said, his voice strained. "Granddaddy’s not well. He’s just... not in the hospital. The point is, I can’t face Mara without feeling guilty. And I can’t see Maria right now." The frustration in his tone was palpable, a storm brewing beneath the surface.
Steph shook his head, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wouldn’t want to be in Ethan’s shoes right now not for all the whiskey in the world. "If only Mara knew," he mused, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "She’s protecting a snake that’s going to bite her where it hurts the most." A low chuckle escaped him, sharp and biting.
Ethan’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Steph’s with a glare that could’ve melted steel. "You’re not helping," he growled, his voice rising. "Go find yourself useful."
Steph raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Hey, it’s not my fault you want to fuck your wife’s best friend," he shot back, his tone casual, almost mocking.
"And don’t give me that look," Ethan snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of his own frustration. "I don’t want to fuck her."
Steph’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That means you’re in love with her?"
Ethan froze, his breath catching in his throat. "No," he said quickly, too quickly. "Of course not. I don’t know." The admission slipped out before he could stop it, raw and unfiltered. There was something there, some kind of feeling he couldn’t quite name. But love? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Steph leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "You need to think hard, man. Tell Mara the whole truth before this whole thing escalates."
"And tell her what?" Ethan exploded, his voice echoing through the empty halls. "That her best friend wants me to fuck her? Or the fact that I want to? Damn it, I don’t even know what the hell is happening to me." He dragged a hand through his hair, his chest heaving as if the words had physically drained him.