I didn’t want to defend Cole. It had happened so fast, and I think he had been as shocked as I. He apologized for it once he saw that I was bleeding. Regardless of that transgression, he consistently treated me like shit, and he was an asshole. I figured it out before it went too far.
“He just yelled at me whenever something went wrong in his life,” I said, “as if it was my fault or something.”
“Just because a guy doesn’t lay a hand on you doesn’t mean he’s not abusive.”
“Yeah, I know.” It was an old conversation and one I didn’t want to have again. Presley didn’t know about the time he hit me. I caught him with another woman and left him shortly after that, and then he moved out of state. I never even heard from him after I told him it was over. “Isn’t Isaac dating some undergrad now?”
“They went out twice, but he wasn’t feeling it. She seemed sweet enough, but she had to work to put herself through school. Not our usual crowd.”
I held back a smile when my diversion worked, but then my chest tightened when I realized it was the same tactic Ethan used when he didn’t want to continue a topic. His face flashed through my mind, complete with a radiant smile.
“Is he the reason you’re dodging your text messages?”
“Who?” I blinked a couple of times.
“Isaac, you dork. Who else are you thinking about?”
“I’m not dodging anything.”
“Bullshit.”
“There’s that mouth again.”
Presley laughed.
“Are you girls done gossiping?” Vanessa appeared in my doorway, tapping her foot. “Ashlyn, my darling, your father is looking for you.”
“I’ll be right down.”
I found Dad on the patio with some of the board members I saw on Friday. We exchanged some pleasantries before they left my father and me on our own.
“I’m sorry, Ash baby,” Dad said, “but I have to bail on golf today. Vanessa is planning another big party, and she insisted I had to help her this afternoon.”
“No problem, Dad. I really have a lot to do anyway. We can go next weekend instead.”
“Great!”
We hobnobbed with a few more company people, and I basically went through the motions until the luncheon ended. I hung around just long enough not to attract attention and then said my goodbyes and made my escape.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Vanessa’s Sunday luncheons—I did. They were a fabulous excuse to buy clothes and get dressed up, meet a lot of important people, and eat fantastic food. When I was younger, Vanessa would have me wear long white gloves with my dress and carry a tiny purse. The only things inside of it were lip gloss and my library card, but it made me feel very grown up. Vanessa would dote on me and tell me how fancy I looked. She paid far more attention to me on Sunday mornings than my own mother did in an entire year.
Today, however, I was distracted and just ready to get out of there.
“See you after class tomorrow!” Presley called as she slid into her BMW. She waved as she drove off, and I headed home.
Once I was alone in my apartment again, I finally looked at my phone. There were eight unread text messages and one voice mail. Six of the texts were from Presley the night before, demanding to know why I wasn’t at the club. One was from Zoey, apologizing for not being able to make today’s luncheon due to a rescheduled hair and nail appointment, which was Zoey-code for “got laid last night”.
The last text and the voicemail were from Ethan. I listened to the voicemail first, but it simply said, “What happened? Please call me back.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before checking his text.
Of course, there wasn’t an actual text message. Instead, there was a video clip. I could see Ethan’s face taking up the screen with the little arrow button in the center so I could watch it.
I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and then pressed play.
Chapter 13—Heartache
I stared at the screen as Ethan looked into the camera with a tight, unnatural smile.
“Hi, Ashlyn,” Ethan said. He paused, ran his hand through his hair, glared off to the side for a moment, and then turned back toward the camera. “I don’t know what happened. I thought everything was going so well, but then you left. I think you got scared, but I don’t know what I did that scared you. Or is it just the age thing? I don’t give a shit about that. It’s just a number, right? Whatever the problem is, please…please tell me. If I just know, then I can try to fix it.”