Before she had too long to wallow in it, Ashlynn and Lauren came back.
“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Ashlynn began.
That time, it was Lauren who interrupted. “It is that we don’t trust you. You’ve been lying to us and sneaking around for months. What’s more, I think it’s best you quit him cold turkey. There will be no contact between you and that piece of shit ever again—not ever. I’m sorry if this makes me the villain in your eyes, but someday you will look back on this and you will understand. You will thank me.”
“I will not thank you,” Willow stated.
“We’ll see. Either way, this is what’s going to happen. I hate to employ that ‘as long as you’re living under my roof’ bullshit, but I’m going to.”
“Fine, then I’ll move out. I’m 18.”
It was a completely empty threat. Without their money or her father’s money, she would have to drop out of school to work enough hours to pay for her own place. Still, she had to try.
“Good luck with that,” Lauren said, shaking her head tiredly.
The only weapon left at her disposal was a glare, so she turned it up full power. “You’re going to regret this,” she said, still trying to get Lauren to back down. “I’m only in school for a few more months, then you can’t treat me like this anymore.”
“We won’t have to, because you’re a smart girl and eventually you’re going to come to your senses. But only with no contact.”
Willow shook her head. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t the way to handle this.”
“Maybe not, Willow, but this is not something I was prepared for; I have no idea how to handle this.”
With that, Lauren turned toward the stairs, but hesitated. “Please go to your room so I don’t have to worry that you’re trying to run away again.”
She debated refusing just to be difficult, but she suddenly felt as exhausted as her mother looked, so she settled with storming wordlessly up the stairs, stomping down the hall, and slamming her bedroom door shut.
As he took a sip of the room temperature tea, Ethan made a face, placing it back down and checking the clock on his tablet.
Ten more minutes.
He flicked a glance at the young man behind the counter who sat on a stool, playing with his phone to pass the time.
Turning his gaze to the window, he watched through the glass as absolutely no one walked by or opened the door to come inside.
When Willow didn’t call him after she was supposed to talk to her dad, he tried texting her. Calling her. Texting her again.
Part of him wasn’t sure if she was mad at him for jumping out of bed again right after they’d had sex (he couldn’t blame her for being pissed about that), or if it was something else. After checking online, he saw that her accounts hadn’t been updated, and it wasn’t until hours later, when his message still showed as not being read that he started to worry.
How would he know if something had happened to her? No one would tell him unless they wanted him to try to find her, and after what her father knew, he doubted the man would let that happen again, even if she was in danger.
He also didn’t need him to. Antonio had his own network of people who could surely handle it.
When two days passed, his messages still unread, he broke down and called her house phone. He hoped she would answer, or even her younger brother, just so he could make sure she was okay.
One of her mothers answered, but the hello was too short for him to know which one.
“Um, hey, is Willow available?”
He grimaced a little—is that what someone calling for Willow would ask?
“Who is this?” she returned sharply.
What did Willow say her scrawny friend’s name was? Was it Justin? Maybe he should go with Angel, since he remembered that one. Was he still in the picture?
Before he made a decision, she went on. “Is this Ethan Wilde?”
Well, shit. There was no way that could be good.