A Picture's Worth
Copyright© 2026 by Evie Olivia Niven
Chapter 8: Sick
It was earlier than usual when Ethan stepped out the door of the group home. Is there a female in my life that isn’t pissed off at me? he wondered, sighing. It’s bad enough with Bailey harping on me all the time, I don’t need Aria doing the same. The little girl had not left him be since she’d found out about his fight with Bea. She was barely talking to him now. This is not my fault, Ethan thought, gritting his teeth. I have a right to like what I want!
He wasn’t having the easiest time in the world convincing himself of that. Ethan considered apologizing, but he hadn’t seen or heard from Bea in a week. He’d told himself a million times that she was probably just busy, but now he wondered if he was only making excuses. I doubt she’d want me, of all people, calling her or going to her apartment, Ethan thought. Besides which, how come she’s the one who gets to be angry here? It’s not like she ever denied it...
“Ethan!”
Startled, he turned and found himself facing Alanna. Uh oh, he thought, taking in the expression on her face. Looks like that “Ethan, you’re in so much trouble” look runs in the family. She stopped a few feet away from him and folded her arms over her chest, staring him down. The problem with that look was that it always got his back up. Ethan drew to a halt and gazed down at her, waiting. He was not in the mood for an argument today, but he would give as good as he got, for sure.
“I was just leaving,” Ethan said, “so if you could make it quick...”
“Fine,” Alanna said, scowling. “It’s been over a week since I last saw Bea.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Ethan asked, trying to move past her. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.
“Look, I know you’re not innocent in this,” Alanna growled, gripping his arm tightly. “This whole thing has become a disaster all the way around, but what set it off was you and your anal-retentive, prudish comments!”
He stared at her open-mouthed. Alanna had always struck him as sweet and quiet, so unlike his sisters. Now, however, he was reminded exactly of them. Bailey had said something very similar to him, and even Sydney had told him he had gone too far. Ethan eased himself from Alanna’s grip. She’s stronger than she looks, he thought, frowning at her. I wish she’d leave me the hell alone, though. What about him? Why did they assume that he was wrong and that Bea had been perfectly innocent?
“I want you to apologize!” Alanna insisted, glaring at him. “She won’t answer her phone, and when I go over there, she won’t answer the door, either.”
Ethan frowned. “Why don’t you go and apologize? She’s your friend,” he said. “Besides which, why is this all on me? This wouldn’t have even happened if she didn’t throw herself at me like a-”
His words were cut off when Alanna’s hand lashed out, catching him across the cheek. Ethan stood, stunned, his skin burning. He looked down at her, his ears pounding with the heavy silence. Her pale blue eyes blazed with fury, but he could see the way her mouth trembled as though she was close to tears. Alanna stepped back from him, then turned and fled into the darkening parking lot. Well, that’s a first for me, Ethan thought, rubbing his cheek. No, wait ... Bailey, that one time ... well, I deserved that one.
As he climbed into his car, he couldn’t help wondering if he had deserved the one from Alanna, too. It takes two to tango, they say, he thought, sighing heavily. And I guess I wasn’t exactly innocent, but ... It was knowing that he’d really hurt her that got to Ethan. He got the impression that something had occurred between Alanna and Bea, but it might not have if it hadn’t been for him. God, I am such a pushover, he thought, as he turned his car in the direction of Bea’s apartment.
His cell phone went off, startling him. He used it so rarely that he often forgot that he had it. Ethan kept a pager, too—Bailey ragged on him all the time for that—so most people reached him that way unless they absolutely had to talk to him at that moment. Grumbling beneath his breath, he grabbed it and answered without bothering to look and see who it was.
“Ethan? It’s Alanna...”
He took a deep breath. “Yes?”
“I uh ... I’m sorry...” she stammered, her voice thick with tears. “I ... I don’t know what came over me, I ... I’m not usually like that. Oh, god, Ethan, I’m so sorry...”
He remembered everything he knew about Alanna, all the things she’d been through. Guess I’m not the only one in the family who is a nervous wreck, Ethan thought, rolling his eyes. He could understand just fine about acting in a way you normally wouldn’t. It wasn’t like him to be quite so judgmental of people, not like this, but Bea stirred something in him that had been dormant for more than three years now.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly, trying to soothe her. “I don’t blame you for being angry ... not really.”
“But I shouldn’t have done that,” Alanna said, sighing. “I’ve been working through some stuff lately and it’s got me really stressed out, but I shouldn’t take that out on you.”
Ethan grinned. “I’m not going to get into this kind of argument, Alanna,” he told her. “Look, it’s all right. I’m fine. You hit like a girl, anyway.”
She laughed softly. It was good to hear her laughter. This is going to be tough enough, Ethan thought, without adding the stress of a fight with Alanna. He told her he’d talk to her later about it, then tossed the phone in his glove compartment. At least the drive to Bea’s was fairly short, so he didn’t have time to sit around and worry about what had just happened. If Bailey finds out, she’ll call an emergency mediation, Ethan thought wryly.
Bea’s apartment building was the most rundown, ragged-looking thing he had ever seen. The stairs were rusted metal and creaked loudly beneath his feet. Most of the doors had missing numbers. Bea’s was supposed to be fourteen, but only the four was actually still on the door; the one was merely a faded impression left on the paint. Ethan knocked loudly, hoping he wasn’t waking her up. It was only about seven-thirty, but if she had been busy for the last week or so, she might be tired early.
When she didn’t answer at first, he thought she might not be home. Curious, he peeked over the railing and saw her car in the parking lot. Frowning, Ethan knocked again, louder this time. At last, he heard shuffling inside and a click as the door unlocked, but it didn’t open. I guess I’ll take that as a welcome, he thought, pushing the door open carefully and stepping inside. It was cold inside, surprisingly so. Ethan saw Bea, swaying slightly on her feet, making her way over to the couch. She dropped down onto it unceremoniously and dragged a ragged blanket up over herself.
“Bea?” Ethan asked, stepping over to the couch and looking down at her. “Are you okay?”
“Sleepy,” Bea muttered, snuggling down further onto the beaten couch.
Her hair looked damp, and her face was flushed. Concerned, he knelt beside the couch and reached up to brush her hair back from her face. Ethan rested his hand on her forehead and nearly jumped back in surprise.
“You’re burning up!” he exclaimed. “Have you been lying here sick all week?”
“No, I just got back yesterday,” Bea murmured, pulling away from his touch. “I’m the only person I know who can come back from California with the flu.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Ethan said, rising to his feet. “Your fever is much too high.”
Bea struggled and shoved at him when he tried to help her up. She turned away from him and pulled her blanket tighter around herself, as though shielding herself from him. Just like my brothers and sisters, Ethan thought, trying to turn her over. Fortunately, I’m used to doing this sort of thing. Bea had little strength, sick as she was, but she struck at him when he tried to pick her up. Her nails caught his arm, raking over her skin enough to scratch him.
“I hate the hospital,” she grumbled when he had finally let go of her. “I’ll be fine. Just let me sleep.”
“At least let me put you to bed,” Ethan said, rubbing his arm where she’d scratched him.
Bea snorted. “This is my bed,” she told him. “Now leave me alone.”
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