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Where Adrien retreated, Ethan leaned in...not emotionally, but practically. He was always on the phone, moving from room to room with a quiet sense of purpose, dealing with lawyers, the dealership, and details none of us had even thought about in the chaos of that night.
That became his way of coping.
If there was something that could be fixed, he focused on it. If it couldn't be fixed, he moved on to the next issue.
He still came to see me, though.
Not every day, but enough that I started to expect him. He'd knock once before letting himself in, usually finding me in the living room or kitchen, and for a little while, it felt almost normal.
"Have you eaten?" he asked one afternoon, leaning against the counter like he belonged there.
I shrugged. "Define eaten."
He frowned slightly and moved toward the fridge. "That's not a real answer."
"I had coffee."
"That doesn't count and you know it."
