Ethan stood in the doorway, snow still clinging to his shoulders, eyes fixed on me. My hand was frozen between my legs, the old photo of him clutched tight in the other. Heat flooded my face. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
“Mia,” he said again, voice low and rough. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. The storm howled outside, but inside the room everything went still.
I pulled my hand away fast and sat up, tugging my sweatpants back into place. “I’m sorry. This is… God, this is so messed up. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t stop on my account.” His gray eyes held mine. He didn’t look angry. He looked like he was fighting something deep down. “You were saying my name.”
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. I glanced at the photo, then back at him. The real
