To late
Willow's POV
I didn't remember leaving the parking structure, only the feeling that followed me as I walked away from it, unsteady and distant, like my body was moving on its own while my mind stayed behind. His words lingered in my head, repeating in a way that made them impossible to ignore, each time settling deeper than before until they no longer felt like something I could dismiss.
You were. I didn't understand what that meant, didn't know how it fit into anything I remembered, and yet I couldn't let it go. It stayed with me, heavy and persistent, like it was trying to pull something out of me that I hadn't realized was there.
By the time I reached the street, the noise of the city returned slowly, filtering back in piece by piece, but it felt muted, like I was hearing it from somewhere far away. My hands were still slightly trembling, my breathing uneven, and no matter how many times I told myself to calm down, my body refused to listen. Something had changed, and I could feel it clearly now, not just around me but inside me, shifting the way everything felt.
The normal rhythm I had relied on for years no longer fit the same way, like something had disrupted it permanently.
I didn't notice the car at first. It was parked across the street, engine off, blending into the line of vehicles like it had always been there, something ordinary enough to ignore. I would have walked right past it if it hadn't been for the way the door opened suddenly, the sharp sound cutting through everything and pulling my attention toward it before I could stop myself.
"Willow." My heart jumped at the sound of my name, my entire body reacting before my thoughts caught up, and when Ethan stepped out, the shift hit harder than it should have.
The sight of him froze me in place for just a second, my mind struggling to adjust from one presence to the other. He closed the door behind him slowly, his eyes already locked onto me in a way that made my chest tighten.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended, the question feeling smaller than the moment. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied, his tone controlled but carrying something sharper beneath it, something unfamiliar. The edge in his voice didn't match the version of him I had known before, and that alone made something in me hesitate.
I searched for an answer, but it stayed just out of reach, tangled in everything I couldn't explain. "I was just walking," I said finally, even though the explanation felt thin. "At this hour?" he asked, stepping closer, the distance between us shrinking too quickly. His presence felt different now, not comforting, not grounding, but intense in a way that made it harder to breathe. "I needed air," I added, but even I could hear how weak it sounded.
His gaze didn't soften, if anything, it sharpened further. "From what?" he asked, the question pressing into me harder than it should have. For a moment, I couldn't answer, not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know how to explain something I barely understood myself. Before I could try, his attention shifted, his eyes moving past me, scanning the area behind where I had just come from. The parking structure. My breath caught as I followed his gaze, a sudden tension tightening in my chest.
"What?" I asked, my voice more tense now, but he didn't answer right away. He just kept looking, like he was expecting something, or someone, to appear. "Were you alone?" he asked finally, his tone quieter but more dangerous than before. The question made my stomach drop, the weight of it settling instantly. "Yes," I said, the word coming out too quickly, too easily. Another lie, and this time it felt heavier, harder to carry.
Ethan's jaw tightened, the shift in him immediate and controlled but impossible to miss. Without another word, he stepped past me, moving toward the entrance of the structure, his movements sharper now, more focused. "Ethan—" I started, turning quickly, but he cut me off before I could say anything else. "Stay here." It wasn't a suggestion. I froze, something about the way he said it making my chest tighten, my instincts reacting before my thoughts could catch up.
He disappeared inside, leaving me standing alone in the silence that followed, which felt heavier than it should have. My heart raced as I stared at the dark entrance, my thoughts spiraling faster with every second. Everything in me told me to leave, to walk away, to pretend none of this was happening, but I couldn't. Because if he saw something, if he found him, everything would change, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that.
The minutes stretched too long, each second heavier than the last, until finally I heard footsteps. Ethan emerged again, his expression darker now, his eyes sharper as they landed on me immediately. "There was someone in there," he said, and my heart dropped instantly. "What?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. "I didn't see him clearly," he continued, stepping closer, his gaze fixed on mine, "but he was there."
I swallowed, my hands tightening slightly at my sides. "I told you, I was alone." The lie felt thinner this time, barely holding together. Ethan took another step forward, closing the distance completely, his presence pressing into mine in a way that made it hard to breathe. "Don't lie to me, Willow," he said quietly, but the weight of his words hit harder than anything else. "I'm not," I replied, though even I could hear the lack of conviction.
Something shifted in him then, subtle but unmistakable. His hand lifted suddenly, gripping my wrist just tight enough to stop me from stepping back, his fingers firm and unyielding. "Who was he?" he asked, his voice lower now, rougher, like he was barely holding something back. "I don't know," I said quickly, my heart racing as I tried to pull free, but he didn't let go. "You expect me to believe that?" he pressed, his grip tightening slightly.
The tension between us stretched, sharp and suffocating, until something inside me shifted. Fear, but not the same kind as before. This time, it wasn't about the man in the shadows. It was about the one standing right in front of me. "Ethan, you're hurting me," I said quietly, and that was enough.
His grip loosened immediately, his expression shifting as he stepped back, like he had crossed a line he hadn't meant to reach.
For a second, something like regret flickered in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly. "Get in the car," he said, his voice back under control. I didn't argue. I didn't trust myself to. As I walked past him, my chest tight and my thoughts tangled, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had just changed in a way that couldn't be undone. Because now it wasn't just about being watched anymore, it wasn't just about running. It was about being caught, and I wasn't sure which one of them I should be more afraid of.
The silence in the car felt heavier than anything he had said. Ethan didn't speak as he drove, his hands steady on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead like nothing had happened, like the tension from moments before hadn't settled into something sharp and unresolved between us. The city lights passed in blurred streaks outside the window, reflecting faintly against the glass, but I barely noticed them, my thoughts still caught somewhere else entirely.
In that parking structure, with him, and the way everything had shifted so quickly after, the memory replayed in fragments I couldn't fully piece together.
I kept going over it in my mind, every detail, every word, every look, trying to make sense of something that refused to settle into anything clear. His voice, low and certain, still echoed in my head, tangled with the memory of Ethan's grip on my wrist, the two moments blending together in a way that made it hard to separate one from the other.
They felt different, completely different, and yet somehow connected in a way I didn't understand. Two different kinds of danger, pulling in opposite directions, and somehow I was caught in the middle of both without knowing how I had gotten there.
"You're not going back there." Ethan's voice cut through my thoughts suddenly, calm but final, leaving no room for discussion.
I turned my head slightly, my chest tightening as I looked at him, searching for something in his expression that would make the words feel less heavy. "Back where?" I asked, even though part of me already knew the answer. He didn't glance at me, his focus remaining on the road. "You know where," he said, and the certainty in his tone made unease settle deeper in my chest.
"I wasn't planning to," I replied, though the words didn't feel entirely true, not in the way they should have. He nodded once, like that was enough, like the conversation was already over before it had really begun. But it wasn't over, not for me, because the way he said it didn't feel like a suggestion. It felt like a rule, something decided without me, something I was expected to follow without question.
The next few days changed things in ways I couldn't ignore. At first, it was small, subtle enough that I almost convinced myself it was nothing, just my imagination trying to turn everything into something bigger than it was. Ethan started picking me up earlier, dropping me off later, staying longer than usual, his presence constant in a way that left no space for me to be alone. It didn't feel overwhelming at first, just different, just slightly more than before.
Then it became more obvious. "Text me when you get inside." "Call me when your shift ends." "Don't take that street." Each word was wrapped in concern, delivered calmly, but each one carried something heavier underneath, something that made it harder to ignore the pattern forming. I followed them at first because it felt easier, because I didn't want to argue, because part of me still believed he was just trying to protect me. But the longer it continued, the more it stopped feeling like protection and started feeling like control.
Lexie noticed it before I said anything. "You okay?" she asked one afternoon, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched me from across the table. "You look… different." I forced a small smile, glancing down at my drink to avoid her gaze. "I'm fine," I said, though the words felt automatic, like something I said without meaning it. She didn't look convinced, her attention staying on me longer than usual.
"You've been distracted all week," she continued, leaning forward slightly. "And Ethan's been acting weird too." My chest tightened at that, my grip on the glass in front of me tightening slightly. "Weird how?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. She hesitated for a moment before answering. "I don't know," she admitted. "Just… more intense. Like he's watching everything." I didn't respond, because she wasn't wrong, and hearing it from someone else made it harder to ignore.
It happened that night, but not with Ethan. With him. I was closing the café alone, the last customer having left just minutes before, the quiet settling in as I moved through the familiar routine of shutting everything down. The lights were dimmer now, the outside street nearly empty, and for a moment everything felt still in a way that almost felt normal. Then I heard it, laughter, low and crude, breaking through the silence in a way that made my body tense instantly.
My attention shifted toward the back corner of the café where two men stood near the exit, their voices carrying just enough to reach me.
One of them spoke, his tone laced with something that made my stomach twist as he looked directly at me. "I'm telling you, did you see her? I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that." The way they were looking at me made it impossible to pretend I hadn't noticed. I kept moving, forcing myself to stay calm, to finish what I was doing without reacting.
As I passed them, one of them stepped just slightly too close. His hand brushed against me, not accidental, not subtle, lingering just long enough to make my entire body go rigid. A sharp wave of discomfort ran through me as I pulled away immediately, my chest tightening. The other laughed, his voice louder now, more confident. "Yeah, she's quiet too. Those ones are always the best." My grip tightened around the cloth in my hand, a familiar discomfort settling in, something I had learned to ignore over the years.
"Relax," he said under his breath, almost amused as he looked at me, waiting for a reaction I refused to give. That only seemed to entertain him more. "We'll wait for you outside," he added, his voice dropping lower, more deliberate now. "Somewhere no cameras see." The other one laughed again, louder this time, his gaze dragging over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "Don't take too long," he said. "Wouldn't want to miss you."
I didn't answer. I stayed still for a second longer than necessary, forcing my breathing to remain steady, forcing my expression to stay neutral even as everything inside me tightened. I had learned how to handle this, how to not escalate things, how to let it pass without giving them what they wanted. But tonight felt different, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel alone.
One of them glanced toward me briefly before smirking and turning away again. "Come on," he muttered to his friend. "Let's go before she kicks us out." They moved toward the door, still laughing under their breath as they stepped outside, their voices fading into the night. The silence returned, but the feeling didn't leave. If anything, it grew stronger, settling into the space around me in a way that made my breath slow without meaning to.
I didn't see him at first. I felt him. That same shift, that same presence, closer now, much closer than before. My body went still as I turned slightly, my eyes scanning the dim reflection in the glass. And then I saw him, standing just outside, not looking at me this time, but at them. His gaze wasn't calm, wasn't distant or unreadable like before.
It was cold.
Focused.
Dangerous in a way that made my chest tighten immediately.
My heart started racing as realization hit, sharp and sudden, my fingers tightening against the edge of the counter as I watched him take a step forward toward them. "No…" I whispered under my breath, the word slipping out before I could stop it. But he didn't hear me, or maybe he did and chose not to react, because nothing about him changed.
The door opened, the sound echoing louder than it should have in the quiet street, and both men turned, their laughter cutting off instantly as they noticed him. I couldn't hear what was said, not clearly, only fragments, confusion shifting quickly into tension, and then silence. Something in my chest tightened painfully, my instincts screaming at me to look away, to step back, to pretend I hadn't seen anything at all.
But I didn't move.