—Bang!
Ethan had barely started to turn his head, reacting to the movement at his side, when a wad of bills and coins slammed down onto the bar, hitting the wood with a sharp crack that made the nearby glasses rattle.
Several heads snapped up at once.
—There's over two hundred dollars here!
Fiona's voice cut through the murmur of the bar. Her breathing was slightly uneven, as if she had rushed to get there.
Ethan looked up.
She was already staring at him.
Her fingers still rested on the money, as if she wasn't willing to pull them away until he reacted.
—I'll keep the washer, but I'll pay for it myself. The rest… I'll figure out how to pay you back.
The cash was wrinkled, mixed with small bills, some barely smoothed out with effort. It was obvious she had tried to organize it before bringing it.
Ethan understood immediately. What had been nothing to him… meant something else entirely to her.
Fiona gave Verónica a brief smile and turned to leave.
Ethan grabbed her by the arm, not letting her go.
—Let me go —she said, turning back with a frown, her hand moving to her wrist.
There was pride in her eyes.
Ethan released his grip immediately.
—You got it wrong —he said calmly—Why don't we talk for a second?
Fiona lifted her chin, exposing her collarbone.
—Then what did it mean?
Behind the bar, Kevin and Verónica were clearly paying attention, practically leaning in so they wouldn't miss anything.
—Ahem…
Ethan cleared his throat.
He watched her in silence. He noticed the slight tremor in her fingers, the way she avoided fully meeting his gaze. He leaned in a little, resting his forearm on the wood.
—You know —he said in a low, almost casual voice— the truth is, I wanted to see you again.
Fiona looked up, surprised.
Ethan held her gaze, calm.
—But after what happened with Frank… I figured you wouldn't want to see me.
He paused briefly, tilting his head just a little.
—So I guess… I was hoping you'd make the first move. So I came up with a completely unnecessary and very elaborate plan to get you to come find me.
A half-smile curved his lips.
—I never meant to offend you.
—Ohhhh…
Kevin and Verónica stretched out the reaction in unison from behind the bar, exchanging amused looks.
Fiona froze for a second… then a blush slowly crept up her cheeks.
She looked away, clearly affected by what she had just heard.
Ethan watched her, noticing the change, his smile deepening just slightly.
—See? —he added softly— It wasn't that complicated, but it worked.
—Whatever… you still have to take the money.
—Sure —Ethan replied, picking up the wad— your call. But you have to let me take you out.
Fiona didn't seem as stiff anymore.
—So… —Ethan gestured toward a stool— can I buy you a drink?
—Are you really trying to get to know me? —She asked, eyeing him with suspicion.
—Of course.
Ethan didn't hesitate.
Fiona hesitated for a second.
—I can't stay tonight, I'm going to watch a movie with the kids at home… —she said— you're invited if you want to come.
—It'd be an honor.
Ethan stood up immediately.
After saying goodbye to Kevin and Verónica, the two of them left the bar. The cold air hit them at once.
Fiona smiled faintly, linking her arm with Ethan's.
—Did you walk here?
—No —she shook her head— I ran.
Ethan glanced at her, amused.
—Did my gift bother you that much? —he asked, looking at her sideways as they walked.
Fiona shook her head softly, moving a little closer to him.
—No… actually, it was a relief, you know? For my siblings and me —she whispered, her voice softer— but it did bother me a little… I thought you were one of those guys who think everything can be fixed with money… and that I was some kind of gold digger or easy.
Ethan let out a quiet chuckle.
—Oh, Fiona… —he said, turning slightly toward her— if there's one thing you should know about me… It's that I'm exactly that kind of man.
Before she could react, he grabbed her by the waist. Fiona let out a surprised laugh, holding onto him by instinct.
The snow began to fall more heavily, covering the street in white.
Unhurried, Ethan carried her toward the car as if the cold didn't exist.
—Where's your car…?
Fiona stopped when she saw it.
It wasn't the Challenger. In front of them was a black Tahoe SUV.
—This is the work one —Ethan said casually.
Fiona tilted her head, curious, and opened the passenger door.
—I still don't know what you do…
Ethan didn't answer. He sat behind the wheel and, without a word, reached toward the dashboard.
He pressed a button.
Immediately, blue lights began flashing, followed by bursts of red reflecting off nearby windows and the snow piled along the street.
The silence broke under the pulsing glow. In the distance, a couple of neighbors on the sidewalk quickly stepped away, disappearing almost instantly.
Fiona looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.
Ethan turned the system off calmly. Darkness wrapped the vehicle again.
—Now you know —he said with a slight smile.
—CPD? —She asked. The surprise barely touched her voice before fading.
—I'm a detective… Intelligence Unit —he replied, a faint smile on his lips.
Fiona didn't look away. She took a second longer than usual, piecing things together: Ethan wasn't like Tony. She had never liked good guys, which is why she had never taken his advances seriously.
A faint smile formed on her lips. Guys like Ethan—textbook bad boys… were a different story.
They were her type.
—Do you want me to call backup to convince you?
—No, no… I believe you —she said quickly.
She got into the car with a smile she couldn't hide.
The engine roared to life.
—First, we grab food —Ethan said.
Minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a fried chicken place.
Buckets of chicken, sodas, fries, and some snacks. Ethan had told her he didn't want to show up empty-handed—he wanted to make a good impression—and although Fiona tried to pay her share, Ethan refused.
When they arrived at the Gallagher house, Fiona didn't even bother using her hand.
The door flew open with a kick.
—We're here!
—About time! —a child's voice shouted from inside.
Debbie appeared first… and behind her, the rest.
And with them, chaos.
The bags barely touched the table before hands were everywhere. Fries disappearing, sodas cracking open with that eager pssshh, laughter mixing with shoves.
—Hey, that's mine! —You didn't grab any! —Ethan brought more, relax!
In less than a minute, Ethan went from "the new guy" to "the best guy in the world."
—I like you, you know? —Carl said, mouth full.
—You're saying that because he brought food —Lip replied without looking up.
Ethan let out a low laugh and ended up dropping onto the couch, a piece of chicken in hand, watching the scene like it was something… foreign. But not entirely uncomfortable.
—What are we watching?
—Star Trek —Lip answered, chewing calmly.
—Didn't we say we could watch Shrek 2? —Debbie protested.
—Not again, that'd be the tenth time… It's Carl's turn —he shot back, no debate.
Fiona rolled her eyes but said nothing. She walked over and dropped down next to Ethan, leaning against his chest. The bluish glow of the TV began to fill the room. Gradually, the noise faded. Not completely… never completely in that house… but enough.
A rare moment.
Ethan glanced sideways. Fiona was relaxed, one leg tucked in, her face softened by the light. She didn't look like the same woman from a few hours ago. Here… she was different.
More vulnerable, though she'd never admit it.
And for a moment, neither did he say anything.
There was no need.
Until halfway through the movie, the atmosphere was shattered.
The door burst open.
A hard slam against the wall.
The lights flicked on.
—Hey! —several voices protested at once.
—Turn that off!
—We're watching!
But no one moved.
Because they all knew who it was.
Frank staggered in, like the floor couldn't decide where to stay under his feet.
Blood on his nose.
On his beard.
Staining a shirt that had probably seen better days… years ago.
—Bastards… all of you… —he muttered, voice thick, soaked in directionless anger.
He grabbed the doorframe, missing the first try.
—You think you can… —he spat on the floor— do whatever you want in my house… and yell at me, you ungrateful bastards.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Calm shattered like glass.
Fiona tensed beside him. Ethan noticed it in how she stopped moving, how her breathing shortened.
The kids weren't laughing anymore.
No one said a word.
Just the sound of the TV… and Frank's uneven breathing filling the space.
Ethan said nothing, staying on the sidelines—but alert. This kind of situation… that, he knew well.
—Frank… what happened to you?
Seeing him like that, Fiona stood up immediately.
After all, he was her father, and seeing him like that made her uneasy.
Maybe it would've been better not to ask, because the moment she did, Frank snapped:
—I'd like to know what the hell happened, too.
—Bang!
Angry, he slammed the fridge shut and grabbed a bag of ice, pressing it to his nose while pulling a shirt from the clean laundry basket.
—Hey, that's my shirt.
Ian saw the bloodstained shirt and rushed over.
—Your clothes?
Frank looked at Ian, and instantly his anger flared.
He stepped toward him, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
—This is your shirt, right?
—It's fine, you can wear it.
Ian sensed something was wrong and quickly stepped back, raising his hands.
—Thud!
Frank ignored him and headbutted him.
Ian immediately saw stars and dropped to the floor, blood pouring from his nose.
—Hey!
—What the hell?!
—Ian, are you okay?!
Everyone jumped up. Lip rushed to help Ian.
—Does it hurt? —Frank shouted— I asked you, does it hurt? If it does, then keep your dick away from other people's daughters' mouths next time.
—Frank, are you out of your damn mind?
Ethan was already on his feet before he realized it.
Two steps across the room.
He grabbed him.
The impact against the fridge rattled everything.
Frank didn't even have time to process it. In a second, Ethan had already twisted his arm behind his back, pinning him completely against the wall.
—He's your son —he murmured, voice low but edged— what the hell is wrong with you?
Frank groaned, trying to turn his head.
—Is that you…? What the hell are you doing in my house?
His eyes widened, glassy—but now focused. He tried to break free, but Ethan's grip didn't budge an inch. He only tightened it just enough to make it clear he wasn't letting go.
Behind them, no one moved.
Not a sound.
Fiona watched, jaw tight, arms crossed like that was the only thing holding her in place.
She didn't shout.
She didn't intervene.
Because this… wasn't new.
Ethan wasn't hitting him. Just holding him there. Controlled. Contained.
—You need to calm down, or I'll have to take you out of here —he murmured near his ear.
Frank laughed—a broken, bloodstained laugh.
—Try it… this is my damn house.
Ethan tilted his head slightly, assessing him for another second… and tightened his arm just a little more.
Enough.
Frank hissed, his body tensing.
—…fine —he spat finally, out of breath— fine, damn it…
Silence returned.
And through all of it, Fiona didn't take her eyes off Ethan. Something in the way he moved… the way he handled the situation without losing control…
Made her smile, just a little.
Because yeah. That kind of danger… was exactly what made her heart race. And what she could never resist getting closer to.
Then she looked at Ian, holding his nose with blood-covered hands. The flicker of resentment in her chest faded, but she still wanted to lash out again.
—Ethan… let him go.
Fiona lunged at him, roaring like a lioness. Seeing her that furious, Ethan had no choice but to release his grip.
The next second, Fiona started hitting Frank hard with both hands.
—Fuck you, Frank! Look what you've done.
She was even more worked up than him. After trying to defend himself a couple of times, Frank shoved her.
Fiona stumbled back two steps, eyes wet, staring at him.
—Don't look at me like that, like this is all my fault.
Frank shook his hand irritably as he headed upstairs.
Even after he left, Fiona didn't look away.
—Are you okay?
Ethan stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace. Fiona's body still trembled slightly.
—I'm fine.
She sniffled and forced a smile.
—You should go. I still have to clean up this mess.
The cheerful atmosphere from earlier was completely gone.
Fiona pulled away from Ethan to check on Ian.
The others stayed quiet—this kind of thing was normal for them. Ethan just put on his jacket, looked upstairs one last time, then turned and left.
Outside, just as Ethan was about to start the engine, two soft knocks tapped against the window.
He turned his head.
Fiona stood by the door, her hair slightly messy, arms crossed as she tried to keep warm.
Ethan rolled the window down.
—I'm sorry about earlier.
He shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes off her.
—You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault… —he paused briefly, the corner of his lips lifting— but that doesn't mean I won't come looking for you again.
Fiona raised an eyebrow, amused.
—Oh yeah?
—You can start by giving me your number.
For a second, she held his gaze in silence, then smiled.
—Sure.
She took his phone naturally, like there was already trust between them. She dialed her number and let her own phone vibrate in her pocket. She hung up and saved the contact.
Before giving it back, she hesitated… and typed something else.
Ethan watched, curious.
—What did you put?
Fiona handed the phone back, leaning slightly toward the window.
—So you won't forget me.
He looked at the screen.
"Fiona – bad idea"
A low laugh escaped his chest.
—Too late for that.
Fiona stepped back, slipping her hands into her jacket, but without breaking eye contact.
—Then it better be worth it.
Ethan started the engine.
—It will be.
Fiona stepped aside, giving him space.
Ethan rolled the window up.
But before leaving, he raised his hand in a casual gesture. She answered with a half-smile. And as the SUV pulled away, Fiona stayed there, watching him go… before turning and heading back inside.