Embers of Us

A Lingering Burn

The minutes blurred together as Lexi let herself sink into the warmth of Ethan's touch, the intensity between them building with each passing second. His lips moved slowly against hers, his hands sliding over her back with a kind of urgency that made her heart race. The heat in the car felt palpable, thick with the scent of the haze they had shared earlier, and the electricity crackling between them made it hard to think of anything else.
Ethan pulled her closer, their bodies pressing against each other, and Lexi's breath caught as she felt his heartbeat sync with hers. His kiss deepened, becoming more demanding, more desperate. It felt like he was trying to pour everything he couldn't say into that kiss—their missed years, their shared past, her pain, his silent support. It all coalesced into this one moment, and for a brief flicker of time, everything else melted away.
Lexi's hands roamed up his chest, feeling the solid lines of muscle beneath his shirt, and she found herself aching for more. There was something about being this close to him, the familiarity of who he used to be blending with the man he had become. She felt his hesitation melt away as he responded, one of his hands slipping under her shirt, fingers brushing against the skin of her waist. The simple touch sent a shiver down her spine.
But just as the heat of the moment threatened to consume them both, Ethan hesitated. His breath was ragged as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. His fingers remained on her waist, still holding her close, but there was a restraint in his touch now—a control he was fighting to keep.
"Lex," he whispered, his voice hoarse, filled with both desire and concern. "We should..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but she knew what he was trying to say. His hand brushed against her cheek, and she felt the weight of the situation press down on them both. As much as she didn't want to stop, she knew he was right. This wasn't how their first time should be—not rushed in the heat of the moment, not clouded by the pain and uncertainty of her diagnosis.
"Yeah," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know."
Ethan nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling back fully, though his hands still lingered on her waist, as if he couldn't bear to let go completely. The air between them shifted, the urgency fading into something deeper—an understanding that there would be time for more when the moment was right.
They sat in silence for a moment, the haze in the car slowly dissipating. Ethan's hand still held hers, and Lexi found comfort in the warmth of his touch. It was grounding, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this. Not anymore.
Lexi leaned back against the seat, her eyes drifting toward the window, where the quiet street outside seemed worlds away from the storm raging inside her. "I didn't expect you to come tonight," she admitted softly, her voice filled with vulnerability. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
Ethan's thumb brushed over the back of her hand in gentle circles, his eyes never leaving hers. "I've always been here, Lex," he said quietly. "Maybe not physically, but I never really left."
She looked at him, her chest tightening with a mixture of emotions—regret, relief, fear, hope. He had always been there in the background of her life, a memory she held onto even when everything else fell apart. And now, here he was, back when she needed someone the most.
"I've missed you," she whispered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
Ethan's eyes softened, his grip tightening slightly on her hand. "I've missed you too."
For a moment, they just sat there, letting the weight of those words settle between them. It wasn't a grand declaration or a dramatic moment. It was quiet, raw, and real, just like everything had always been between them. There was no need for pretense or explanations. They both knew the paths their lives had taken, and neither expected things to be perfect. But being here together, sharing this moment, was enough.
Lexi took a deep breath, the reality of her situation creeping back into her mind. "Ethan... I don't know what's going to happen with the tumor," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm scared."
He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb still moving in comforting circles. "I know you are," he said, his voice steady. "And it's okay to be scared. But you don't have to face this alone."
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed by her vulnerability. But Ethan reached over, gently turning her face back to him, his fingers brushing away the tear that slipped down her cheek.
"I'm here," he repeated softly, his eyes filled with a quiet determination. "We'll figure this out together."
His words, simple and sincere, brought a sense of peace to Lexi that she hadn't felt in months. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed the chaos in her mind, and for the first time since her diagnosis, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she could get through this.
They sat like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other's warmth, the world outside forgotten. There were no answers, no guarantees, but in that moment, Lexi knew she wasn't alone. And that, for now, was enough.
As the night stretched on, the weight of exhaustion began to settle over her, and she pulled back slightly, looking up at Ethan. "You should go," she said softly, though part of her didn't want him to leave. "It's late, and I don't want you getting in trouble for staying out."
Ethan smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll be fine. But you're right. You need rest."
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before opening the car door and stepping out. Lexi watched him walk back to his sister's car, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. She knew they still had a lot to figure out, but tonight had given her something she hadn't felt in a long time—hope.
As Ethan's car pulled away from the curb, Lexi leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe things were starting to fall into place.