Under My Skin (Stark International Trilogy 3)

Breathe, dammit. Just breathe.

“Syl.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, then leans over so his whole arm can go around me. “It’s okay. It’s okay. And I’m so sorry you went through that, and I’m so sorry it was because of me, and—”

“No.” The word bursts out of me from the dark place, so forcefully that my throat hurts from the effort of it, and I sit up straight. “No, don’t you dare feel guilty. Dammit, Ethan, I didn’t want you to ever know. Why did he tell you? Why would he put that on you?”

“He—he said he didn’t really understand what was happening—”

“Bullshit.”

“He said that now you were being blackmailed. That Jackson told him. Is that true?”

I nod.

“He said I needed to know—”

“No! I never wanted you to know!”

“He said I needed to know in case it came out,” he continues, his voice soothing. “He said it might because it was Reed who took the pictures, and with the murder the police or the press might find out. And if it goes public you’d need me.”

“That’s bullshit,” I say. “He doesn’t care about what I need. He never did. He’s protecting himself. Making sure you learn the truth about the money from him and not from the tabloids.”

“Syl, no. He’s really sorry. He wants—”

“No.” I scream the word then slap my hands over my ears. “I don’t care what he wants.”

Beside me, Ethan sags. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, then pulls me awkwardly to him again. He rocks me gently. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I let him hold me for a few minutes, because I love him and I know that he’s hurting, too. But I need to be alone.

I pull out of his embrace, then blink at him through my tears. “Ethan, I—”

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he says, and I am grateful that at least I do not have to explain that I need him gone.

“I’ll be okay. I just need—I just need to sit here for a bit. Please, Ethan? I’ll be okay.” I’m not actually sure that I will. I’m holding on by a thread, but the last thing that I want is for him to see me snap and fall. “Please,” I repeat.

He looks at me, as if trying to assess how serious I am. Then he nods. “Yeah. Okay.” His voice is soft, and a little too careful. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Thanks.” And then, because I know that he is hurting, too, I grab for his hand, catching him just as he has pushed open the door. “It wasn’t your fault, Ethan. You know that, right? It wasn’t your fault.”

He looks at me, his eyes full of sadness. “I know. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “We’ll be okay, you and me.”

“Promise?” I can’t bear the thought of losing my brother, and the fact that my father has so blithely risked everything the two of us have built over the years only fuels my anger.

“Cross my heart.”

He slips out quietly, then shuts the door. I watch as he climbs into the car parked next to me, then I tilt my head back and force myself to breathe. My instinct is to call Jackson, but I tell myself not to reach for my phone. I’m still too unsettled from our parting. I want him—god knows I want him—but I need to get my shit together first.

I hug myself and breathe deep, then jump at the sound of an engine firing. I’ve been so lost in my own world that I didn’t realize that Ethan has been sitting in the Toyota beside me all this time.

He turns my way, and his parting smile is both sweet and sad. I smile back, then blink away tears when he blows me a kiss before pulling out of the space. As soon as he disappears from sight I lean back again and focus on breathing. On trying to calm down. To quell this rising fear.

And even as I’m fighting, I think how much has changed. Before, I would be jamming the key into the ignition and driving blindly to someplace like Avalon, with cheap drinks, dim lights, and a pounding beat. I’d be finding a guy. Taking him. Fucking him. But with me in control. Me, proving to myself that I can keep it together. Me, saying fuck you to the world.

And then, goddammit, I’d go to Cass and have her ink that fungible man’s name on my thigh, just one more toss-away man I cared nothing for, who only served to prove that I could keep my shit together. That I wouldn’t lose control. That I could keep the nightmares at bay.

Now, I don’t want to keep control. Now, I want to let go.

Now, I want Jackson.

I want to surrender to him. To let him hold me, to let him help me.