Our town's only vet clinic stands behind us, proudly displaying its old, weathered oak sign: McCrowder's Animal Clinic. Family-Owned and Operated Since 1994. The ruby paint is flaking off in areas, giving it a rustic, trustworthy appearance, which matched the trustworthiness displayed by the staff.
After Ethan was assaulted by Ares, we decided to go to town to take Thanatos to the vet. Everything went well. He loved being doted upon by the McCrowders' youngest daughter. The little fur ball had everyone spoiling him with treats, too.
Ethan speaks up beside me. "Are all the stores in this town family-owned?" He observes the stores on this street, each with their own "family-operated" sign.
"Yep," I answer. "We're not a big enough town for anything else. The closest McDonald's is about thirty miles from here over in Allsbury."
Holding an ice pack that he got from the vet to his face, Ethan frowns. "Then what do you guys do around here?" I shrug.
"Nothing really. Our quaint little Millstone is always pretty slow and quiet."
"Where do you guys eat then? Because I am starving." Ethan extends his stomach and pats it lovingly.
I laugh at his ballooned stomach, and he allows it to deflate. "Most of the time, everyone goes to the diner on Main Street, but Ace and I like the café on Second. They're both good, but it's normally less busy at the café."
"Sounds good. Let's go." Ethan marches ahead, then pauses. "Where's Second Street?" I point in the direction he was heading. Ethan continues forward, leading our tiny band.
Ace and I follow obediently, neither of us attempting a conversation. We stroll past more shops, all their signs displaying their open status. A cool breeze wraps around us, and I inhale the beginning of fall into my lungs. Some store owners we pass recognize us with a slight nod or smile; others take one look at Ace, frown disapprovingly, and slam their store doors closed. Oh, Ace. You have so many fans.
The next time a glare is given and door slammed at the sight of Ace, I decide to tease him. "It appears your reputation precedes you, Mr. Bad Boy." With a cocky half-smile, Ace looks down at me. His green eyes are lit with amusement.
Responding, he writes, "What can I say? People love me."
"Humble, aren't you?"
The half-smile turns into a full one, and Ace shows me his next note. "Of course. Humility is my best quality." Laughing lightly, I shake my head, but choose not to disagree.
Up ahead, Ethan spins around to face us and walks backwards. "You two coming? My stomach is eating itself."
I nod and shout, "Right behind you!" Ethan spins once again, permitting us to not stare at his battered face. The swelling has gone down significantly, but the bruising is still a disturbing sight.
Grabbing my hand, Ace jogs to the café as it comes into view. He absentmindedly twirls my ring around. It is such a soothing feeling that I cannot help but relax. I've only had one boyfriend before, and his hands were always sweaty and moist, a stark contrast to Ace's firm and cool ones.
Like the gentleman he is but refuses to show to others, Ace opens the café door for me. The bell dings, announcing our arrival. I see Ethan already at the counter, practically drooling as he admires the pastries. His intense expression is humorous, to say the least.
"Whatcha getting, Two-Face?" Ethan obviously does not find my joke funny, if the one-eyed glare he gives me is any indication.
Not deigning to reply, Ethan returns to salivating over the muffin. I turn to Ace, but he is already looking at me. There is an intense look on his face, too, similar to the one Ethan is expressing. It causes me to blush, but the neutral lighting of the store helps to mask it. I hope.
Ace maintains eye contact, but hands me the notebook. "The usual?" I nod and smile shyly.
Ace then ushers me over to our usual seating area. The oversized brown leather chair dwarfs me. Placing my purse beside me, I study the little café. The light blue paint on all four walls creates a tranquil atmosphere, and the brown furniture—chairs and tables— compliments the simple decor.
My eyes flit over to the counter, where they rest on Ace. He is writing our order on his notepad. I don't know why we do it this way, considering it would be quicker for me to speak, but Ace always orders for us. Sliding the pad of paper to the employee, Ace's arm muscles contract with the motion. He then leans his hip against the counter, angling his body towards me.
Not wanting to be caught, I look at Ethan instead. I don't know what to think of him sometimes. He obviously is not a very serious person, but I also question his intelligence. Who in their right mind willingly antagonizes Ace? I'm surprised Ace hasn't severely hurt him yet. Ethan is obsessively staring at the muffin, as it is placed in his grasp.
Ethan comes to sit in the dirt-colored chair beside me. Ace soon joins us and places my chocolate chip cookie and hot chocolate before me on the table. He then seats himself in the third chair of our seating triangle. I pick up my hot chocolate, and the warmth soaks into my hands. I smile gratefully at Ace.
"Thank you. Will you please let me pay this time?" Already knowing the answer, I watch Ace deny my request. I sigh, but try to persuade him. "Please, you never let me pay." Ace vehemently shakes his head, adamant about his decision. Well, alright then.
Switching my focus to Ethan, I am greeted by the lovely image of him cramming a whole entire muffin in his mouth. I blink at him, but Ace is the one who asks him a question by handing me the notebook. "Did you even taste it?" I read aloud.
Ethan swallows, after choking slightly. "Of course not. That's why I bought a second one." He rolls his eyes and unwraps the second muffin.
We are all silent after that, each person lost in thought. Ace gazes out the café window. I gaze at the wall conveniently behind Ace, and Ethan gazes at his muffin predatorily. A thought pops into my head, though.
"Hey, Ethan," I draw his attention. "Why did you move here?"
Ethan's eyes, normally full of mirth, dim drastically. They adopt a serious look, and I know that I have hit a sensitive topic for him. Ace must pick up on the mood change also because his full focus is now on the conversation.
Ethan swipes a hand down his face, sighing simultaneously. That same hand then sweeps through the strands of brown hair. "Ah, what the heck. You guys are bound to find out anyway." He pauses, looking like he is steeling himself.
Then Ethan straightens his shoulders and leans back on the chair. He addresses the wall. "My mom and I moved here about a week ago." Now he focuses on us. "My da— Wait, no I guess I have to explain something else first. My parents gave birth to triplets. I was first, Elizabeth was second, and Emilia was third. Elizabeth looked like me: brown hair, brown eyes. Emilia, on the other hand, has blonde hair and brown eyes."
Ethan's countenance darkens for a moment before a reminiscing smile appears. "Elizabeth and I were a lot closer than Emilia and I were. For some reason, Emilia and I couldn't get along very well, unless Liz was there. She was the peacekeeper."
"In the same way, Emilia was closer to my father, while I was closer to Mom. Liz was still the neutral one. It's not that my father and I didn't get along, but I don't think he knows how to raise a son; he grew up with only his sisters and mother."
Ethan clears his throat, and his eyes drift to the area between Ace and I. His eyes take on a vacant look, and he continues in monotone. "My parents used to fight a lot, but they told us that they were going to work on it. That was about a year ago. Liz, Emilia, and I all believed them, and things started looking better...until we found out that my father was cheating."
Ethan's blank expression flickers with anger, before shutting down again. "None of us really knew how to react. I was furious at him for hurting Mom, but Emilia was— I think— more inclined to forgive our father. Our parents were explaining that they were still going to try to make the marriage work. Elizabeth, though. I remember her expression. Both of our parents were her heroes. It crushed her. Everyone was yelling and angry, and she just sat there. Then," his voice is choked and the words are thick with emotion. His eyes are filled with such a deep sorrow and regret that I can feel my own eyes start to burn. "Liz jumped up and spoke one word, 'why?' Then she started crying. I went to go comfort her, but she ran and grabbed the truck keys. She left before I could stop her."
Ethan hiccups for a second, the result of withholding sobs. Staring at the table, he takes a moment to compose himself. He speaks, "We got a call thirty minutes later. Our truck was found in the river." I inhale sharply. "Elizabeth had accidentally driven off the road. It was dark, and she was crying. She—she didn't make it." His expression closes off again, and the monotone returns. "Our parents decided to get a divorce after that, and Emilia chose to stay with our father. I went with Mom, and we moved here for a new start."
A single tear falls from my eye, and I whisper brokenly, "I'm so sorry, Ethan." Reaching over, I embrace him, letting him know that he is not alone.
Ace stays silent, but slides a note over. "I'm sorry," it reads.
Ethan smiles grimly at me. "You remind me of Emilia, but only because of your hair. Your personality is a lot nicer than hers." He laughs, but it sounds forced. "She's actually kind of a brat most of the time. Elizabeth was the nice one."
I recognize his attempt to lighten the mood, and so I ask curiously, "What does your mom do?"
He smiles appreciatively. "She's a psychiatrist."
"That's a tough business in this town," I state.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Millstone already has a psychiatrist, so I doubt he is gonna like the competition."
Ethan chuckles, and his eyes lose most of the sadness. "Not a lot of crazies in this town, huh? Well, that psychiatrist has nothing to worry about. My mom has her office in Allsbury, but we moved here because she likes the countryside."
"Yeah, Millstone has some really pretty land. It's to make up for the lack of an attractive town."
Ethan grins. "Makes sense. Are all those buildings on the outskirts of town abandoned?"
I nod. "Yeah, but they're still owned technically, since they're passed down through the families. No one runs them, though, or wants anything to do with 'em. They're Millstone's attempt at dissuading tourism."
Ace and Ethan both snort, and Ace writes, "Millstone is such a tourism hotspot." Only Ace could perfect the art of writing dry sarcasm.
The conversation dies down, allowing us the privacy of our thoughts. I glance at Ethan who is toying with his second muffin, a remnant of pain still in his eyes. Knowing what it feels like to discuss something painful, I feel bad for bringing up the topic.
"So," Ethan addresses me. "What do your parents do, shortcake?"
I freeze. Crap. I should have known this would come up sometime. Breathe. All you have to do is say what they do. Simple.
I fidget, uncomfortable with the subject and uncomfortable with the truth. "My mom is a photographer. She actually was the one to take the picture of the bridge mural that's in my room."
His eyes widen. "Wow, I really liked that picture. What type of photos does she normally do?"
I explain, "She likes scenery pictures, but she also works by taking pictures for foreign modeling companies, too."
"Is that why you're house seemed so empty?" Nothing but curious coats his tone, but hearing the truth pass his lips makes my stomach and throat ache.
I nod and tell a half-truth, "Yes. She and my dad travel a lot for work." And to get away from me. "My dad is a medical journalist, and so my parents like to travel together."
Ethan and Ace both listen attentively, and I am mentally begging for them to stop being so curious about my dysfunctional life. I don't get my wish.
"Where are they now?" Ethan wonders?
"London." I think. Who knows where they are now?
Ace slides me his notebook, and I read, "When are they coming back?"
A month. Two. Three. Who knows?
"Oh, I don't know. It's never an exact time," I reply evasively. "Because my mom always finds new places to take pictures."
Ethan nods acceptingly, but Ace narrows his eyes. I maintain eye contact with a nonchalant facial expression to convince him. It must work because he leans backward and performs the signature male pose: legs spread apart and back slouched.
I relax. Too close. We finish our snacks quickly, so Thanatos does not have to wait much longer in Ethan's truck. After eating, we leisurely stroll back to the vehicle, a calm silence enveloping the three of us.
Right as Ace and I are about to climb in the vehicle, Ethan stops us. "Wait! We need to take a picture." Ace and I share a confused look.
"Why?" I question, dragging the word out. Ethan sputters for a second, as I watch him think of a valid reason.
Avoiding my question, Ethan instead says challengingly, "What's wrong, Lucilia? Photo shy?" I gape at him, but soon realize that he is trying to avoid answering me.
"What's wrong, Ethan? Can't answer a simple question?" I bait him, and he scoffs.
"Of course I can. Don't friends take pictures with each other?"
I nod slowly. "I guess, but what made you want to take one?"
Ethan's eyes dart around nervously, and he wets his lips. "No reason." He's a crappy liar. I do not believe him, but I let it go.
Ace watches our conversation, and I speak to him. "What do you say, Ace? Want to be in a picture?" Ace smirks at me and scrawls in his notebook.
"More like the camera wants my handsome self in its picture." His soft pink lips lift into an arrogant smirk. I snort and shake my head.
"Would you two hurry up," Ethan whines impatiently. I skip to stand beside him, and Ace follows suit, minus the skipping. I stand between the two males, their large frames towering over my petite one. We all stand awkwardly beside each other, no one touching. Ethan slowly raises his phone and focuses the lens on us.
Looking at the screen, I can see how weird this picture is going to look. Ace stands to my left, a blank expression in place. Ethan is to my right, face black and purple and gross. I, on the other hand, have a light purple mark on my cheek. We don't even look like we like each other. I think Ace and Ethan realize this, too, because Ethan lowers his phone.
Our new friend clears his throat. "You guys know how to take a picture, right? It involves smiling and charisma. Sometimes, people even make stupid faces."
Ace punches Ethan's arm, while I roll my eyes. "My mom's a photographer. Remember?"
He sniffles and tilts his head upward snootily. "Obviously you didn't inherit those genes."
"'Cause your doing so much better." The sarcasm is impossible to miss, but Ethan does just that.
"Finally. Someone acknowledged my incredibility." I open my mouth to object, but a note is slammed down on the hood of the truck.
Ethan reads it silently, and his face turns ashen. He gulps. "Uh, let's —uh— take that picture now, yeah?" I lean over to read the note, but it is snatched and crumpled by Ace's fist. I look at him weirdly. Why won't he let me read it? Ace ignores my look and sends Ethan a deadly glare.
Ethan claps his hands together and hurriedly orders us, panic tinged in his voice. "Now, Ace stand closer to Lucilia and smile. No, don't glare. Smile." He groans. "Pull your lips apart and show some pearly whites." Ace bares his teeth in a violent manner. Ethan frown and steps back.
I defend Ace, "He showed some pearly whites."
Ethan swipes a hand down his face, irritation a dominant expression. "That's not what I meant," he mumbles. "Fine! Fine. Ace, look threatening, but stand closer to Lucilia. Closer. Closer. There. Now put your arm over her shoulder. Perfect. Lucilia, smile, be cute, and put your arm around his waist. Okay. My turn."
Ace and I are side-by-side, and I'm tucked underneath his arm. Feelings of safety and comfort flood me, and my cheeks heat. My heart rate speeds from Ace's proximity, his warmth worsening the organ's pace. I glance at him to evaluate his reaction, but I am left disappointed by the dangerous expression on his face. Of course this wouldn't affect him. We're just friends. Nothing else. That reality saddens me, and my heart withers. Still, I smile.
Ethan sidles up next to me and drops his arm over Ace's, despite the frigid glower he receives. I then place my other arm around his waist, but he maintains a little distance between us.
Ethan studies all of us. "Perfect." He smiles, and we focus on the lens. A shutter sound plays, as the camera captures our first day as friends together. I reach for the camera, but Ethan reproachfully wags his finger at me. "Tsk tsk, shortcake. You don't get to see it, yet." I pout, widening my eyes into a Thanatos expression, but he is immune to it. Ethan turns his back on us and gets in the grey truck.
I stare in disbelief. He won't even let me see it. My thoughts are halted immediately by an arm wrapping around my waist and lifting me into the air. I squeal in surprise and cling to the arm, a fear of falling motivating me. Ace carries me to the passenger side and places me in the seat. His beautiful misty green eyes give away nothing about his thoughts, but my palpitating heart shows how he affects me.
Ethan fakes coughing and, while doing so, wheezes out, "Caveman." I look at the two in confusion. I missed something. Ace appears ready to attack Ethan, and the new kid only smiles mockingly.
I shake my head in exasperation. "Just drive, Ethan. I won't be able to stop him if he tries to kill you." Ethan obediently follows my order, and silence reigns over us during the drive.
At my house, Ethan receives a text, and from his expression and statements as he stares at the screen, it must be his mother. "I forgot to call her! What if she knows I skipped? I'm dead." He wildly runs his hands through his hair, and he addresses Ace. "Do you need a ride home? Or are you staying here?" Ace peers out the living room window and stands. I guess he's leaving then. I don't want him to leave yet, his presence driving away the loneliness.
I escort them to the door and watch as they climb into Ethan's truck. Ethan waves goodbye and reverses. I catch Ace's eyes as they start to drive away. He smiles and winks, as if he's perfected the art. I blush, but grin back, waving until the truck is out of sight.