The Taste of Trouble

The night air was thick with tension and regret.

Jax was gone, but his words lingered.

"She's in this now, Carter. You both are."

I could still hear them, echoing in my mind, wrapping around my ribs like a noose.

Ethan stood beside me, breathing hard, his knuckles bloody and raw.

He had lost control.

Because of me.

Because I was the weakness Jax had found.

And for the first time, I realized—

This wasn't just about danger.

This was about how far Ethan was willing to go to keep me safe.

And how far I was willing to let him.

"Liv," Ethan said, his voice hoarse.

I swallowed hard. "Don't."

He exhaled, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"We need to get out of here."

I nodded, but I didn't move.

Because leaving this alley wouldn't erase what had just happened.

Wouldn't erase the way Ethan had lost himself in his fury.

Wouldn't erase the way I had felt it.

The moment where everything could have changed.

Where he could have said something—**anything—**and I wouldn't have stopped him.

But he didn't.

And now?

Now, we were back in the silence we didn't know how to fill.

The car ride was too quiet.

The city lights blurred past, but I barely saw them.

Because all I could think about was him.

The way his fingers gripped the steering wheel like he was holding onto control by a thread.

The way his jaw was clenched, his shoulders tight with unspoken words.

He didn't look at me.

Didn't say anything.

And that hurt more than the danger.

More than the fear.

Because I wanted him to say something.

Anything.

But Ethan Carter was an expert at locking himself away.

And I was too exhausted to pick the lock.

He pulled up outside my apartment, keeping the engine running.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the door handle.

Waiting.

Hoping.

For what?

I didn't know.

But just before I could open the door, Ethan finally spoke.

"Liv."

I turned, my breath catching.

His hands were on the steering wheel, his knuckles still bruised and bloody.

His expression unreadable.

But his voice?

It cracked.

Like there was something heavy sitting in his chest.

Something he wanted to say but didn't know how.

And I held my breath.

Because this?

This felt important.

Ethan exhaled, shaking his head.

"I—"

He stopped, his fingers tightening around the wheel.

I leaned closer. Waiting. Wanting.

"Ethan," I whispered.

His jaw tensed.

Then—he turned away.

Like the words were too much.

Like I was too much.

And just like that, I knew.

He wasn't ready.

Or maybe, he was just too afraid.

And it shouldn't have hurt.

But it did.

Because I wanted him to choose me.

To say the thing I knew he felt.

To stop running.

But Ethan Carter only knew how to fight.

And this?

This was a battle he wasn't ready to lose.

I let out a slow breath, gripping the door handle.

"Goodnight, Ethan."

His fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

His throat worked as he swallowed.

And for a second—just a second—I thought he was going to stop me.

Thought he was going to say the words that had been sitting between us for far too long.

But he didn't.

He just nodded.

And I got out.

Closing the door on the almost confession that never came.

I barely made it inside before the weight of it all crashed down.

I sank onto the couch, pressing my hands against my face, my breath uneven.

Because that moment?

That almost confession?

It had meant something.

And Ethan?

Ethan had let it slip away.

Just like he had let me slip away.

And maybe this time—

Maybe I wouldn't come back.

The next morning, my phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

My stomach tightened.

I hesitated, then swiped to read the message.

Unknown Number: We're not done, sweetheart.

I sucked in a breath.

Because I knew who it was.

Knew exactly what it meant.

Jax wasn't finished.

And this time?

I might not make it out.

Ethan almost confesses—but stops himself.

Liv finally realizes she can't keep waiting for him.

Jax sends another warning—this isn't over.

Liv and Ethan are forced back together, whether they're ready or not.