“Yes, Ethan, I think you do. Because I obviously missed something somewhere along the line. ” I know he wants me to give it up, to just walk away. But I’m not going to. I know how it felt to be held by him. To be made love to by him. A guy doesn’t do the things he did with me, for me, and then just walk away with no explanation. Not unless he’s a total jerk, and Ethan isn’t.
He isn’t.
But already the doubts are creeping in. He looks so remote, so untouchable, and so untouched that I feel exposed. Laid bare. On the brink of total humiliation.
Please, God, don’t let me have made another huge mistake. I don’t think I could take it.
But God isn’t listening, and neither is Ethan. Or if he is, he doesn’t like what I’m saying. He runs a hand through his hair, starts to turn away from me. Like he’s done with this conversation—and me.
I’m not having it. I snag his gaze with my own and refuse to let him lock me out. If he’s going to break my heart, he’s going to do it looking straight at me. He owes me that much.
Silence stretches between us, cold and lonely and empty, but I’ll give him credit. Once I’ve snagged his attention, he doesn’t look away from me. Doesn’t try to pretend that I’m not standing there in front of him with my chest ripped open and my heart bleeding. Ethan Frost may be a lot of things, but he isn’t a coward.
“Fine,” he says. “This thing between us isn’t going to work out. It was fun. You’re a great person but I think we should—”
“It was fun?” I ask him incredulously. “Letting me pour my heart out to you was fun? Listening to me talk about how I was raped? How I blame myself for it? That was fun for you? Really?”
“I didn’t mean that. ” He sounds sick, but I’m not falling for it. Not now, not ever again.
“Oh, no? Well, what exactly did you mean, then? Because it sounds to me like you let me fall apart for your own amusement. ”
“That isn’t true. ”
The goddamned tears are back, and it only makes me angrier at him. And myself. “Then tell me why. ”
“This isn’t about you, Chloe. It’s about me. ”
“Fuck you. You can do better than that. ”
His jaw is clenched, his hands squeezed into fists so tight that I can see his knuckles turning white, even through the bruises and the cuts. For a second, just a second, he looks like the Ethan I thought I knew. “It is me. It is. It has nothing to do with you. ”
“Except it has everything to do with me. You can try to assuage your guilt by saying it doesn’t, but it does. It really does. Because I’m the one whose heart is being broken here. I’m the one who was stupid enough to let you in. To trust you. To fall in love with you even though I knew better. And now I’m the one who’s going to suffer for it. ” The tears are falling now and I can’t stop them, and that only makes me angrier. I swipe at them with my hand, furious that I can’t keep it together. That he gets to see me breaking down when all I want to do is be strong.
“Just tell me why you did it. Did you think I was too cocky in the cafeteria that day? Or maybe I wasn’t nice enough? Is it because I didn’t like your stupid blueberry smoothie?”
“Chloe, baby. ” His eyes are damp now and he sounds almost as bad as I do. Then again, his jaw is swollen to twice its normal size. “You’re talking crazy—”
&nbs
p; “Don’t call me baby! Don’t you fucking call me that. And don’t you dare tell me when I’m being crazy. I was fine before you came into my life. I was fine before you charmed me with your fucking strawberries and your fucking blender and your fucking ridiculous care packages. I was fine. And now I’m not. Now I’m fucking broken all over again. And I hate you for it. ”
I start to cry in earnest now, and I hate myself for that. I hate being such a mess, such a fucking goddamned basket case. Hate even more that I’m doing all this in front of him. I want to be cool, want to be collected, but it just hurts too bad.
Goddammit. I really am ruined. It’s not a bad joke this time, not a measuring stick I hold myself against. This time it’s really true. There are just too many pieces missing and broken, too many pieces that I’ve stupidly given away for me to ever be able to put them back together again. To put me back together again. And even if I could, it hurts too much for me to even think about trying.
“No, Chloe. No. You’re not broken. Can’t you see? I am. ”
He walks toward me, arms outstretched, but I back away. Wrap my arms around my waist in a pitiful attempt at protection. If he touches me, it’s over. Any small dignity I have left, anything I have left, will crumble right along with the rest of me.
I grab on to myself, dig my fingers into my waist in an effort to ground myself. As I do, my fingers slip beneath my sweater and I feel it. The chain he gave me to bind us together. To prove to me that this was for real. That he wasn’t just messing with me.
That I really, truly, belonged to him.
My stomach revolts, and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick right here in the middle of Ethan’s pristine kitchen.
Panic sets in. Real, live panic, and all I can think is that I want it off.
Want it away from me.