Chapter 55
“I’ve known you for a while, Judy. You can’t bullshit me.”
My jaw clenched. “What do you expect me to say, Ethan? That I’m not okay? That my mother is depressed and barely eats? Isn’t this what you wanted—for me to suffer? So why are you acting like you care when we both know you don’t?”
“Judy!”
My mother’s sharp voice rang from the doorway, startling both of us. Her wide eyes were filled with disbelief.
“How dare you speak to him like that?” she scolded.
“Mom…”
“He’s going to be our Alpha,” she continued, her tone firm. “He deserves our respect.”
Ethan held up a hand. “It’s okay, Mrs. Montague. Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll make you something to eat.”
My mother’s expression softened, a rare smile tugging at her lips—one I hadn’t seen in a long time. Ethan always had a way of bringing that out of her.
“How thoughtful of you, Ethan,” she said sweetly. “Thank you.”
She gave me a pointed look before turning and heading toward the living room. I spun around on my heel and glared at him.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my tone dry.
“Despite what you think, I actually care about your mother,” he said simply. “It’s hard to see her like this. It’s hard to see you like this too, Judy.”
I frowned, searching his face for some kind of ulterior motive. But I was too exhausted to try and figure him out.
“Go sit with her,” he said. “I’ll cook, and after dinner, we can talk.”
I sighed, too drained to argue, and walked out of the kitchen.
I found my mother curled up on the couch, staring at a framed picture of my father. Tears shimmered in her eyes. When I sat beside her, she barely reacted.
“Why can’t you just do what he wants so we can get your father back?” she asked suddenly, her voice raw with desperation.
I stiffened, caught off guard.
If only she knew what Ethan was asking me to do.
“Because we don’t need his help, Mom,” I said, my voice weary from repeating the same thing over and over. “I have things under control.”
“How?” she demanded. “That tutoring job barely covers the bills, let alone your father’s debt.” She looked at me pleadingly. “We need him home, Judy.”
I covered her hands with mine, squeezing gently.
“And he will be,” I promised. “I swear.”
The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the room, pulling me from my thoughts.
Had Ethan made pasta sauce from scratch?
I frowned. He didn’t need to go that far. I just wanted my mother to eat something. I wasn’t even hungry—I had already eaten dinner at Gavin’s house.
A few minutes later, Ethan walked in with two plates of steaming pasta. He handed me one, but I set it on the table. Then he passed the other to my mother.
My suspicions were confirmed when I saw the rich, slow-cooked sauce coating the pasta.
“You didn’t have to go all out,” I muttered. “The jarred sauce would have been fine.”
Ethan scoffed. “I wouldn’t even feed that to a dog.”
My mother hesitated, staring down at her plate. “I’m not sure I can eat,” she whispered.
Ethan leaned forward, his voice gentle. “Please try. It would mean the world to me if you ate something.”
She studied him for a moment, then nodded slightly.
He turned to me next, his eyes narrowing.
“You should eat too,” he said, nodding toward my untouched plate.
“I’m not hungry,” I said flatly.
His jaw tightened. “Can you stop being so damn stubborn for once and just do what you’re told?”
I stared at him, refusing to respond.
After a moment, he exhaled and focused back on my mother, chatting with her as she slowly nibbled at her food.
I expected Ethan to leave after dinner or at least start an argument with me about the same things we always fought over. But he didn’t.
Instead, he cleared the dishes.
Then, to my surprise, he cleaned up the rest of the kitchen.
And after that, he tidied up the living room while I sat with my mother.
Then, before I could stop him, he went into my mother’s bedroom. I watched in stunned silence as he cleaned up the space, picked out comfortable pajamas for her, and even drew her a bath.
I helped my mother into the bath while Ethan waited in the living room. Part of me hoped—expected—that he would leave while she was getting ready for bed.
But when I came back downstairs, he was still there. Waiting.
I crossed my arms, eyeing him warily.
“I have to admit… I’m grateful for what you did tonight,” I said, forcing myself to acknowledge it. “I’m not sure she would’ve eaten anything if you weren’t here.”
Ethan leaned against the couch, his expression unreadable.
“You’re welcome.”
I let out a small sigh. “Seriously, Ethan. Thank you.”
He smirked.
“It doesn’t come without a cost,” he said, raising a brow. “Now, I’m hoping you’ll return the favor.”
