The drive to my new house felt like an eternity. The gentle hum of Ethan's Ford pickup truck was the only sound breaking the strained calm. Every now and again, I'd catch Ethan staring my way out of the corner of my eye as if he was looking for something—an opening, a chance to break the ice, or perhaps simply to evaluate my mood. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of speaking first. If he thought that whatever was between us gave him the right to control who I could or couldn't see, then he was sorely mistaken.
He must've sensed my stubbornness because, out of nowhere, he spoke. "I'm sorry, okay?" His words cut the stillness so abruptly that I flinched in my seat. He didn't even glance at me as he said it, his gaze fixed on the road, his knuckles white as he held the steering wheel. "I just don't want you getting hurt… more than you already have."
I remained quiet, chewing the inside of my cheek. He raked his fingers through his hair, evidently irritated with himself rather than with me. The way his fingers plucked at his hair indicated that he was psychologically punishing himself for upsetting me. A small part of me wanted to feel sorry for him, to say something comforting. But I knew him too well. This apology wasn't going to change his mind about Lycan.
I decided to test him. "Does that mean you're okay with me seeing Lycan again? I mean, he's really good with directions in the forest, and—"
"No," Ethan cut me off, sharper this time, his tone leaving no room for argument. My patience was thinning, and so was my tolerance for his bossy attitude. Where was the Ethan I thought I knew? The fun, carefree guy who used to make me laugh? Had I just started to see the real him?
"Well, you're not that sorry then, are you?" I shot back, crossing my arms, sinking deeper into my seat as I stared out the window.
That's when it happened.
He glanced at me, and for just a heartbeat, his eyes flashed a golden hue. I blinked, stunned, my breath hitching in my throat. But as soon as I noticed, his face changed. His eyes widened, his muscles tensed up like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. He snapped his head toward the road, jaw clenched, hands gripping the steering wheel even tighter. My eyes followed his movements as he checked the rear-view mirror, but not to see what was behind us—no, he was looking at his own reflection. Checking his eyes. He must've realized what I saw because I watched the tension slowly leave his body. He looked calmer now, his muscles relaxing, and when he glanced at me again, the golden hue was gone, like it never happened.
I swallowed hard, my voice shaky when I finally spoke. "What… what was that?"
He didn't meet my gaze. "What was what?"
"Your eyes. They—" I hesitated, unsure of what I'd seen. "They flashed gold, Ethan."
He cleared his throat, buying himself a few seconds, then tightened his grip on the wheel again. "Quinn," he said, his tone too casual for comfort. "You've gone through a lot recently. Your mind is probably playing tricks on you."
I shook my head, not believing his rejection for a second. "Ethan, I know what I witnessed. Your eyes — "
He shut me off again, but this time it was neither abrupt nor cold. He seemed to be attempting to calm me down. "It's just a reflection," he said, gesturing to the windshield. "Sometimes, when the light strikes just right—especially around sunset or with the moon—it may produce strange reflections. You probably noticed the headlights bouncing off something shiny, like a road sign."
I narrowed my eyes, my scepticism clear. He was smooth, too smooth. "A reflection?"
He gave me a disarming grin as if he were trying to convince me of his little lie. "Yeah. This happens all the time. Have you ever noticed how your eyes seem in various lighting? It's merely light reflecting from the automobile window. "There's nothing to worry about."
I frowned, uncertain but Ethan was pushing so hard into his story that it seemed convincing. He even chuckled, attempting to relieve the strain. "Look, Quinn, I am not some monster. It's only light. There's no reason to believe that something supernatural is going on here."
I stared at him for a few more moments, searching his face for any hint of dishonesty. But he was good. Too good. All the tension had left his body, and he seemed totally relaxed now like nothing weird had happened at all.
Finally, I let out a long breath, deciding to drop it—for now. "Fine. If you say so." But I wasn't done talking about Lycan. "But listen, about Lycan—"
Ethan's demeanor shifted again, irritation flashing across his face. "What is it about that wolf that you just can't let go?" His voice was sharper now, more frustrated.
I felt my temper flare. "Who do you think you are, Ethan? You're not my boyfriend, and even if you were, I'd still tell you to go straight to hell. You don't get to tell me what to do."
Ethan clenched his jaw, glancing at me like he wanted to argue but was biting his tongue.
I wasn't done. "There's some shadowy figure out there telling me I'm his, and you haven't said a word about that. No, instead you're obsessed with this wolf that's only ever tried to protect me. My house is further from yours now, so you won't even have to worry about me seeing him again. But you have absolutely NO right to be jealous or overprotective, let alone tell me what to do."
As I laid into him, he fell silent, taking in everything I said. He glanced at me occasionally, like he was finally realizing something. Good! Maybe he was starting to get it.
By the time I finished my rant, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. We were pulling into the driveway of my new home, Wayne's Inn. The sign was already up over the entrance, and I couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride. My parents had worked hard to get this place ready.
But before I could admire the inn any further, I needed to get out of this truck, away from Ethan, before I said something I might regret later.