Ethan Stuck In The Middle Novels & Stories

he picks up a stick and hands it to me, "try this one first.” I nod and feel the texture of the soft, glossy wood under my fingers. As we turn to walk back to the table, Ethan's eyes are still trained on me. Maybe I wasn't crazy. My hands smooth down my hair, thinking maybe that's why he's staring at me. Ethan takes his stance at the end of the table, away from all of the colored balls with one white one in front of him. He angles his stick at the white ball and hits it. The balls clatter together and scatter around the table. A solid blue and a solid red ball fall into the pockets on the corners of the table.

Leo running after Ethan, Ethan stopping in the middle of the road to pick up the ball , a car rushing towards him, him getting hit by the car and collapsing on the road. " ETHAN!"

“Mom, why can’t Dad drive us? He’s a good driver.” Tasha softened at Ethan’s innocence but remained resolute. “Ethan, sweetheart, we already have someone coming to get us. Dad needs to stay and rest.” Ethan tilted his head, looking between them. “But Dad’s not sick anymore, right? He can come with us.” Daniel crouched down again, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll see you soon.” Ethan looked disappointed but nodded reluctantly. “Okay, but only if you promise.”

Hasn't he gone to help Ethan yet? - SIR, PLEASE GO HELP ETHAN! HE'S STILL THERE! - I tripped and fell, but I was supported by the middle-aged policeman, I begged him seeing that there were still so many people and some standing still. - It's all right, Ayanne, we're already on the lookout for Draven and Ethan, we'll find them.

Still, I walked on, letting the distance stretch between us—wordless. I halted abruptly when I saw Ethan, holding a spatula and a bucket. He held the spatula against the lockers, poking at the pieces of gum stuck to them. “Pfft,” I stifled a laugh. Ethan immediately turned to face me. His lips spread into a smile. His eyes suddenly left mine and came in contact with Logan. His smile faded, his lips pressed into a thin line. They held each other’s gaze. The air was tense, filled with words unsaid.

I whirled around to see Ethan standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with urgency. “What’s happening?” Ethan demanded, his voice sharp but laced with concern. His gaze flicked from me to Lucian, assessing the situation in an instant. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm. “He’s… he’s stuck in something. He’s apologizing, crying about leaving someone behind.” Ethan’s jaw tightened as he stepped into the room, his movements swift and deliberate. “Stay back,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan’s voice cried out. His small figure darted forward, his little hands tugging desperately at Mike’s arm. "Let go of my mom!" Ethan begged, his voice breaking. Mike’s cruel laugh echoed in my ears. With a quick, sharp movement, his other hand struck Ethan with enough force to send him stumbling to the ground. "Ethan!" I gasped, my voice strangled from the grip on my throat. Ethan let out a soft, pained whimper but quickly sat up, trying to hide his injury. His small hands clutched at his bleeding nose, but the scent of his blood reached me before I saw it.

It was a final, absolute act of sacrifice—a mirror of the cruel, impossible decisions imposed by Luca’s father years ago. “I will come back for you,” Ethan promised, his voice trembling with the weight of the vow. It was a raw, ragged oath, but one that carried the certainty of blood and fire. Pushing against the wall for support, Ethan forced himself upright. Each step sent a jolt of agony through his ribs, every movement a test of endurance. He lunged toward the hallway just as the deadbolt on the front door exploded inward under the battering ram of Thorne’s team. Wood and splintered metal flew into the air, mingling with glass shards, chemicals, and dust. Ethan disappeared into the chaos

The two men were the same height, with Ethan slightly taller by an inch. Ethan stared at Lane for a moment, his jaw twitching. “Get out of my face ‘buddy’.” He snarled, flexing his shoulder mucsles. “You have exactly three seconds to do so before I stuff your face with my fist.” Lane grinned, and swung. A scream was torn from Erin’s throat as she watched the scene before her. Obviously expecting the attack, Ethan moved with a speed that belied his height. Lane’s blow went wild, catching him of balance, the unexpected momentum causing him to stumble forward.

He steered Ethan towards the exit, pushing through the staring crowds with there raised phones. "Move," Rong barked at a group of college kids blocking their path. Ethan's face was flushed, sweat beading on his forehead and his shirt was wrinkled. He looked like hell. "You don't understand," Ethan slurred, still struggling against Rong. "That bastard said—" "I don't care what he said." Rong snapped. They were almost at the door when Ethan's legs gave out under him. Rong caught him as he crumpled to the floor, his dead weight against his chest. "Shit."