Page 42 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

Ethan heaved out a few deep, bracing breaths, trying to regulate his pulse and calm himself down. He and the other guy stared at each other, one glued down in fury, the other in fear. Finally, Ethan gritted out:

“Get the fuck out of my sight.”

The offender—so brave and assured when it was just him and a drunk, half-naked woman in the room, and then not so much when Ethan appeared—bolted, grabbing his own shirt off the ground before veering around them in a wide berth and jetting out the door.

It took Ethan another few seconds to slow his breathing. Hewanted to get himself under control to a certain degree before turning to Julia, because the truth was, he didn’t know what to say. Or how to react.

Part of him wanted to rage ather. How could she be so stupid? How could she let herself get out of his sight? Why would she drink so much and then go somewhere with someone she knew she wouldn’t be able to defend herself against?

So many questions, and none of them did anything to calm him down.

Then there was the other part of him. The part that wanted to turn to her and scoop her right up into his arms, hold her against him, and never let her go. The part that still wanted to rage—not at her but at himself for not being there to protect her. For not keeping her safe from harm. If he hadn’t found her in time, who knew what could have happened between those two? And whether or not she would have been devastated by it in the harsh light of day? He knew for a fact that she hadn’t consciously chosen to have sex with that fucking loser. The evidence was clear about how she was being manipulated and how much he felt like he needed to still warn her about men in general, but especially the perils of men their age. How nobody was interested, at least notreallyinterested, in anything other than sex and how she needed to protect herself from unsavory characters like the one who had somehow coerced her upstairs into an unoccupied bedroom.

Instead of saying any of that, though, he tried to take more deep breaths. Clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. And finally turned to her—

—only to feel her small fists beating on his chest.

Shocked, he looked down at her, pummeling him in insipid rage, tears running down her cheeks anew.

He caught tidbits of the words she was saying—“not your business,” “so humiliating,” “need to apologize”—and felt his mind go blank with the implications of them.

Numbness consumed him for a beat before he snapped out of it and grabbed her wrists—not hard, but forceful enough to still her.

“What?” was all he managed to get out while looking down at her incredulously.

She sniffled and struggled weakly to free herself from his grasp. “You didn’t have to”—she hiccuped—“go all pile driver on him. You could have just told him to leave.”

“Julia, are you fucking kidding me?” He hoped the use of her full name would snap her out of whatever reality she was in, and he gave her a little shake for good measure. “You can’t even put two words together. You looked like you were going to pass out on that bed. That guy was taking advantage—”

“And so what if he was?” she burst out, yanking her hands hard out of his grip, her words heavily slurred. “So what if he fucking was? You swoop in like the avenging angel to save the day? Rescue poor, drunk Julia from the handsy college boy? You’re not my fuckingdad.”

Ethan snorted, that hot anger in him from before turning cool and icy once more. “Yeah, no fucking shit. Does your dad even know what college you go to?”

The minute the words were out, he regretted them. She jerked back as if he’d struck her and looked up at him with those wide eyes, glassy with unshed tears.

“Okay, Ethan,” she bit out finally, stumbling back and making to leave the room. “You’re right. I have nobody except a runaway mom and a deadbeat dad who doesn’t even know thatI’m at college right now.Cool. Thanks forrescuing meso you could remind me of how shitty my life is. Much appreciated.”

She made it to the doorway before he snagged her arm, pulling her toward him until her stiff, unyielding form was drawn to his chest, his arms wrapping around her in a hug, though she made no move to unstiffen or return the gesture.

At the first sign that she wanted him to let go—a squirm, an attempt to move away—he would have released her. The last thing he wanted was to invade her personal space after what she’d just gone through.

He was tormented with thoughts of what could have happened had he not intervened. How much worse her morning might have been if he hadn’t found her or been so dogged in his pursuit of her location.

He didn’t know what it was that had caused her to lash out this way—to drink until the verge of unconsciousness, put herself in situations that his levelheaded, pragmatic, sober friend would never dream of being in. To lose control—not just of her alcohol consumption but of her safety, her body, her ability to take care of herself.

It was so unlike the Gem he knew, so opposite of all she stood for and believed in, that he couldn’t help but feel protective of her, couldn’t help but watch out for her.

So he could be there for the times when she couldn’t be there for herself.

But this time, he’d let himself get carried away. He knew that. It hadn’t been right, the way he’d assaulted the other guy. He would be lucky if there were no repercussions. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel remorseful. Not about scaring the shit out of that asshole. Not about making him reconsider thenext time he pursued a woman or a situation without explicit consent, without the ability for her to look at him and say a resounding yes with clarity and eagerness.

But he was sorry for scaring Gem. For embarrassing her, though truth be told, he couldn’t care less about that, either, as long as she was ultimately safe.

He hoped she knew she was safe with him.

His hands rubbed up her back, and he realized belatedly she’d let her shirt fall to the floor and she was in his arms in nothing but her bra. He supposed it was no different from a hug in a bikini at the lake. Not that they had ever really done that, at least not recently. But still, in this moment, he wasn’t sitting here thinking about Julia’s semi-nakedness beneath the palms of his hands.

And neither was she, he hazarded to guess, as he felt her relax incrementally until her body was somewhat lax in his arms, though she still made no attempt to hug him back.