17| A Growing Bond

Sundays were usually a break for Ethan—a rare reprieve from the noise that was Sinclair Enterprises. The house was quiet. No business calls. No last-minute meetings. Just the hum of the coffee machine and the distant sounds of the city outside.

Just the way he liked it.

But lately, there had been a new reason why he really liked coming home.

Sophie.

She was in his space now. Filling up the quiet he'd once thought he needed.

And somehow, he didn't mind.

Even though today was a rare easy morning, he still woke up early, his body wired for routine. He figured he'd get some coffee, take a light jog, maybe clear his head. His trainer always told him to take it easy on rest days, though he wasn't particularly good at that.

But as he walked into the living room, coffee forgotten, he found her.

She was curled up in an armchair, legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her lap, and a half-empty plate of toast beside her.

She looked... content.

Something about that made him pause. And then—before he could stop himself—he smiled.

She had been off since David's birthday party. He had noticed. At first, he'd chalked it up to exhaustion—she wasn't used to the exhausting social circles he grew up in. But then... something else settled in. A distance. A hesitation in the way she met his eyes.

He wanted to ask.

But instead, he did what he always did. Ignored the feeling.

And yet, there was still something about the way her eyes lit up whenever she saw him that did something to him.

"You're up early," he said, heading for the kitchen and grabbing a mug.

Sophie looked up, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Sadly, I suffer from the same curse as you."

Ethan smirked as he poured his coffee. "Which curse is that?"

"The inability to sleep in like a normal person," she huffed dramatically.

His lips twitched. She always did that. Turned everything into something light, something playful.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, shifting in her chair.

He took a slow sip before answering. "Better than expected."

Sophie nodded, eyes glancing at his athletic gear. "Heading to the gym?"

He smirked. She pays attention.

"Not today," he said, leaning against the counter. "Just a jog. Nothing complicated—taking it easy."

Sophie hummed, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her book. "Oh, have fun then. Are you heading to that park north of here?"

Ethan arched an eyebrow. "You mean south?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Don't look at me like that! I haven't had a chance to explore yet."

He hadn't been looking at her in any particular way. But now, he was definitely looking.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself saying, "Why don't you come with me?"

Sophie blinked, caught off guard. "Really?"

She studied him for a beat, like she wasn't sure if he was serious. Then something mischievous flickered in her green eyes.

"Wait—there's something you should know about me first."

Ethan narrowed his eyes, intrigued. "Oh?"

"I used to run a bit in college," she said, stretching dramatically. "Think you can keep up?"

A deep, unexpected laugh escaped him before he could stop it. Where did that even come from?

"I'll try my best," he said, amused, "but I should warn you—I'm competitive. Think you can keep up with me?"

Sophie gasped, hand flying to her chest in exaggerated offense. "Is that a challenge, Sinclair?"

Something about her was so infectious, so effortlessly fun, that even he wasn't immune to it.

He found himself teasing her back, falling into her rhythm, something he never did with anyone else.

There was color with Sophie.

And God help him, but he wanted more of it.

"You're on, Sinclair," she shot back, already heading for the stairs. "Give me a minute to change!"

She nearly tripped in her excitement, catching herself just in time.

Ethan shook his head, chuckling.

Just how was he supposed to ignore her?

A short while later, Sophie came downstairs dressed in a sleek two-piece yoga set. Her messy blonde hair—only ever tamed when she had an event to attend—was pulled back into a ponytail. He resisted the urge to tuck a loose strand behind her ear.

Ethan took one look at her and nearly lost his train of thought.

She always looked beautiful, but something about her in that moment—carefree, glowing—made it harder to look away.

They started off at a steady pace, weaving through quiet streets lined with trees and charming storefronts. Ethan pointed out local landmarks, some he had passed a hundred times before without much thought. But with Sophie, everything felt new. Like he was seeing it for the first time.

By the time they reached the large park, Sophie glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm still waiting to see this competitive streak you mentioned. So far, this is pretty tame."

Everything about her was adorable.

Ethan smirked, his gaze flickering ahead. "Oh, you want competitive?" He gestured toward a towering oak tree in the distance. "Fine. Race you to that tree."

Sophie's grin widened. "You're on."

She barely got the words out before taking off in a sprint.

Ethan held back for a moment before picking up his pace, his longer strides easily closing the gap. He reached the tree first, barely winded, and turned to her with a cocky grin.

"Looks like I win," he said smugly.

Sophie stopped beside him, bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping dramatically for breath. "Not fair... Your legs are longer!"

Ethan chuckled, his laughter deep and genuine. "You're not serious, are you?"

Sophie straightened, fixing him with a devastated pout. "Dead serious. We're going again, and I'm getting a head start. It's only fair."

God.

She was impossible.

"Alright," Ethan said, still laughing. "If you insist."

This time, Sophie bolted before he even had a chance to react. She had the lead for a few glorious seconds before he effortlessly closed the gap and beat her again.

And then—

To Ethan's utter shock, Sophie's face crumpled.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "You're cheating," she sniffled.

For a moment, he just stared at her, completely thrown.

Then—

He realized.

She wasn't acting.

Ethan's laugh burst out before he could stop it. Unbelievable. She was an adorable sore loser.

And he loved it.

"Alright," he said, still chuckling. "One more time."

Sophie sniffled, wiping her eyes with the most exaggerated motion possible. She looked like a pouty child denied candy. And damn it, that did something to him.

He knew, without a doubt, that this time—he was going to let her win.

This time, he pretended to struggle, letting her pull ahead.

When she reached the tree first, she threw her arms in the air triumphantly.

"See? I told you I could win!" Sophie exclaimed, her earlier fake tears completely forgotten as she beamed with pride.

Ethan put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Wow. What was that? You completely blindsided me." His voice was full of mock admiration. "What a comeback."

Sophie grinned. "Told you. Never underestimate me."

Ethan smiled, his eyes lingering on her longer than they should have.

He could never underestimate what she did to his heart.

Because somehow—without even trying—she had crept in.

And she didn't even realize it.

"Let's do this again," Sophie said, her smile radiant.

"Definitely," Ethan replied automatically. But deep down, he hesitated. He didn't like making promises he couldn't keep.

They walked side by side as they made their way back to the house, the morning sun rising higher in the sky. It felt like the most beautiful day Ethan had seen in a long time.

"Today's a good day for pizza," Sophie mused, skipping a little in her step.

Ethan glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Are you just saying that because you're hungry?"

She gasped, genuinely offended. "Gee, you don't have to say it like that!"

"Why?" Ethan teased, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Are you going to cry again?"

Sophie's jaw dropped. "How dare you, Ethan! That was a one-time thing!"

Ethan laughed, running ahead before she could retaliate, leaving Sophie chasing after him, shouting mock threats.

And as he ran—he knew.

For the first time, Ethan knew he was lying to himself.

There was no point in locking up his heart when she was already there.

And yet, as much as he wanted to hold onto this... he knew better.

He always knew better.

*******

Sophie changed the channel again.

And again.

Nothing held her attention.

The sound of the TV was just background noise now—because her mind? It was somewhere else.

She and Ethan had been getting closer. At least, she thought they were.

She had almost forgotten how terrible she felt at David's party, how Claire's words had dug under her skin like tiny needles. But now?

Now, she wasn't so sure.

At first, she chalked it up to Ethan being busy.

Workaholic might as well be his middle name.

So, she brushed off the fact that he didn't smile back when she greeted him in the mornings. That he didn't stop to chat like he always did in the evenings.

He'll come around. He's just busy.

But then it got worse.

She barely even saw him anymore. The only way she even knew he was in the house was the sound of his car pulling in late at night and leaving again before dawn.

And by the time she realized they hadn't talked in days, the truth settled over her like a heavy weight.

He was avoiding her.

Ethan Sinclair, who had once teased her about crying over a race, the one who told her she looked beautiful—was now acting like she didn't exist.

And she hated how much that bothered her.

She glanced at the clock. 12:07 AM.

He's not coming home early.

And even if he did, he wouldn't acknowledge her.

She should just go to bed. She should stop waiting up for him like an idiot.

But if she did see him, she wanted to say something.

Finally, she heard the front door open, followed by the familiar sound of his footsteps.

Sophie straightened, her heart doing something stupid at his presence.

"Hey," she called out, keeping her tone light. "Late night again?"

Ethan barely glanced at her as he shrugged off his coat. "Had a lot of work to catch up on."

That was it?

Her chest tightened, but she pushed through the disappointment. "I made dinner, but it already went cold. I could warm it up for you?"

She hated how stupid she felt for offering. It was past midnight.

"I already ate at the office," Ethan said flatly.

Sophie swallowed. "I figured."

A beat of silence. Then, weakly, pathetically she tried again. "Maybe we can have breakfast together tomorrow?"

Ethan finally looked at her—but only briefly.

"I've got an early meeting. I need some rest."

Another excuse.

Sophie clenched her jaw. This isn't right.

"I don't think I'm crazy, but is everything okay?" she asked, a bit unsure.

Ethan's hand tightened on his coat. "Everything's fine. Just busy."

Busy. Always busy.

"Well, you've been coming in really late recently. I don't really believe everything is fine."

She hated the way her voice shook. Hated that she even had to ask.

Ethan finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable. For a second, she thought he might say something.

But then—

"Everything is fine."

He turned away before she could argue.

And that—that hurt worse than anything.

If everything was fine, then why was he treating her like this?

He had been the one to give her hope—the one to let her in.

Now, he was shutting her out like she meant nothing.

Sophie watched him disappear down the hall, her chest tightening with frustration, confusion, and something dangerously close to hurt.

She clenched her fists, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat.

No.

She wasn't crazy.

She wasn't imagining this.

"You say that," she muttered under her breath, gripping her things and heading for bed.

"But I know you're not being honest."

Sleep eluded her that night. Sophie tossed and turned, her mind circling the same questions with no answers.

When her eyes opened again, the clock read 4 a.m. She knew trying to fall back asleep was pointless, so she slipped out of bed and went down to the kitchen for some water.

Maybe it would help.

But before she could take a sip, she heard footsteps.

Ethan.

He was already dressed—of course he was—moving toward the coffee machine like it was just another normal day.

Sophie wasn't even thinking when the words left her mouth.

"Guess you weren't lying about the meeting."

Ethan's hand stilled over the coffee pot. His shoulders tensed.

"What?"

She set her glass down, her pulse quickening. She could feel it now—the moment where everything would snap.

"I don't know what to do when you shut me out like this," she admitted, her voice quieter than she wanted it to be. But the hurt was undeniable. "One minute you're here, and the next, it's like I don't exist to you."

Ethan exhaled, keeping his gaze firmly on his coffee.

"I don't know what you want, Sophie. I'm running late."

Sophie's grip tightened on the edge of the counter.

I hate that.

She hated how easily he brushed things off. Hated how, no matter how much she tried to reach him, he kept throwing up walls.

"I just want to understand!" she snapped, voice trembling. "What changed? Did I do something wrong? Why are you making me feel like I'm crazy?"

Finally—finally—he turned to look at her. His exhaustion was written across his face, but she didn't care.

"It's not you, Sophie," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just really busy. I'm running on less than four hours of sleep—do we really need to do this right now?"

The words stung.

She wanted to yell. Wanted to throw something. Wanted to shake him until he gave her a real answer.

Instead, she swallowed past the ache in her throat. "I get that you're busy, Ethan. I do. But don't lie to me. I can handle a lot, but being lied to..... it sucks."

Ethan sighed, frustration creeping into his expression.

"I'm sorry I don't have time to play house with you right now," he muttered, turning back to his coffee. "I really need to focus on work. Can we talk later?"

Silence.

The words hung there, sharp and ugly.

Even he seemed to realize it a second too late

Play house.

There it was again.

That dismissiveness. That casual cruelty.

He opened his mouth, his expression almost apologetic.

"I'm sor—"

"I don't want to hear it," Sophie cut him off, her voice sharp with anger and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

"Screw you, Ethan. Have a nice day at work."

The glass slammed against the counter, and before he could say another word, she turned on her heel and stormed back upstairs.

She knew he didn't mean it.

She knew he was exhausted and stretched thin—not even the hot kind of exhausted, just completely, utterly burnt out.

And yet, she was so damn tired of making excuses for him.

Because she was the one with feelings, wasn't she?

She was the one trying.

And suddenly, she wasn't sure she wanted to try anymore.

Why did things have to be so damn complicated?

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