Ryan rubbed the back of his neck.
“I should go.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Yes.”
Ryan hesitated.
“Hannah…”
Ethan’s eyes hardened.
“Do not say her name.”
Ryan nodded.
He walked toward the door.
As he passed Ethan, he stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan did not look at him.
“You were my friend.”
“I know.”
“No. You knew.”
Ryan said nothing.
“That’s worse.”
Ryan left.
The front door closed.
Ethan and Hannah were alone.
For a while, neither moved.
Then Ethan picked up his overnight bag.
Hannah’s face changed.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just got home.”
Ethan looked at her.
The irony of those words was almost unbearable.
“I thought I did.”
He started toward the door.
Hannah grabbed his arm.
“Please don’t leave.”
Ethan stopped.
Her fingers loosened when she saw his expression.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He looked exhausted now rather than angry.
“Maybe you do.”
“I do.”
“But apparently that wasn’t enough tonight.”
Hannah began sobbing.
Ethan opened the door.
“I need space.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first honest answer anyone had given all night.
Ethan drove to a twenty-four-hour hotel near the highway.
He barely slept.
At four in the morning, he sat on the edge of the bed staring at his phone.
Hannah had sent nineteen messages.
He read none of them.
Instead, his mind replayed one image.
Ryan moving quietly toward the door.
Not the kiss.
Ethan had not seen the kiss.
Not Hannah crying.