Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
ETHAN
M elissa’s standing on the porch of her house, her arms crossed, her eyes blazing with fury. I ease out of the truck, closing the door and tucking my hands into my pockets. Caleb waits until I start walking, staying a few steps behind me.
“You have some nerve, Ethan,” Melissa seethes as I stop, one foot on the bottom stair of the porch.
I don’t say anything. My head is fucking pounding, and my eyes burn. It feels like I’ve been run over by a truck and then trampled by a herd of cattle. Fuck, I’d forgotten just how shitty a hangover can be. It doesn’t help that I know one wrong word will have Melissa slamming that door on me and refusing to help fix my fuck up.
“If you think I’m going to cover for your stupidity this time, you’re wrong ,” she says. She’s practically vibrating with rage. “I shouldn’t have done it the first time. The only reason I did is because she begged me to.”
Caleb pauses behind me.
“I’m not here to ask for you to cover,” I say.
I don’t even touch the whole subject of my stupidity. That’s not a conversation for here and now, not until I manage to convince Brielle to forgive me for it first. If she’ll forgive me, at least.
I shove the thought away before the hopelessness can swallow me again.
Her eyes narrow, and she crosses her arms. “If you’re here to convince me to tell you where she is, you’ll need to do better than every single moment of begging in your damn life, Ethan.”
I force a swallow and start up the steps.
“All right,” I say.
Caleb stays behind me, leaning against the railing of the porch, just to my left. His arms are crossed over his chest, his frown etched deep enough to look like one of mine.
“I fucked up yesterday,” I tell her. “And I want to fix it.”
“You wanted to fix it so bad you waited an entire damn day after I found her crying on the side of the road leading into the Monroe Ranch?” Melissa’s words grow rushed, her cheeks a dark red with her anger. “Doesn’t seem all that convincing to me.”
Anger drops my voice, and I take a step toward her.
“It took an entire day because she was already gone when I made it to Emily’s place.” I breathe through my nose, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Mint bleeds out of me, soured by my rage and frustration. “It took an entire day because after my sister punched me hard enough to split my damn lip while refusing to tell me where she might be, I got blackout drunk and had to wait until I sobered up enough to form words.”
Melissa sucks in a startled breath, her eyes widening.
“You went after her?” she asks. The rage is still coloring her voice even if her body has started relaxing.
I nod once, clenching my jaw hard enough it aches.
“Prove it, Ethan. Beg me on your knees.”
Melissa’s words are stark, brooking no argument.
I pull up short. Beg her?
I glance at Caleb. He adjusts his ball cap, a single eyebrow cocked. After a minute, he shrugs.
“You want her, then you’re going to have to do a lot more than beg Melissa, Ethan,” he says. “She’s spent the last eight months rebuilding her life after an asshat lied to her and made her feel absolutely worthless.”
My stomach twists.
Fuck Brett.
Slowly, I ease onto my knees, letting my hands rest on my legs. Melissa stares at me and then at Caleb.
“You love her?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer, just as quickly as I did Caleb.
God damn , do I love Brielle.
Melissa blows out a breath and pulls out her phone.
“She said she was thinking about flying back to Faedra in Denver,” she says. “I’ll see if I can convince her to stay in Jackson another day.”
She taps a couple times, and then Caleb and my’s phones chime in unison.
Denver? Fuck me. I should have just told her in the moment, should have let myself think I’d lose Kayla. Chasing her all the way to Denver sounds miserable and exhausting.
Not that I won’t do it. I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth if that’s what it takes to prove I can’t live without her anymore.
Melissa continues, “If I can, this is where she’s staying. If you text me when you get there, I’ll double check her location in case she decides to go somewhere else.”
I surge to my feet and pull Melissa into my arms. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She sighs. “I swear to God, Ethan, I’m not helping if there’s a next time. She’s been hurt enough.”
Her phone vibrates, and she glances at it while still stuck in my hug. She turns the screen to me, and some of the coiled worry and fear eases.
I’m staying. I’ll come back in a couple days and decide what to do then.
brIELLE
Despite what I’d told Melissa, I’m ready to climb the walls of my hotel room by Monday morning. I grab the blue sundress that still manages to carry just a hint of Ethan’s scent, leftover from its close proximity to my heat a couple weeks ago. Mint wafts over me, nearly indiscernible. The worry eating me from the inside fades to the point I can breathe around it.
It’s ironic that it’s his scent that’s kept me the calmest the last two days.
Proof that biologically perfect has no bearing on actual reality.
My phone vibrates, the screen lighting with a message from Melissa this time.
You’re heading back tomorrow?
Yeah. Going to spend today planning and then I’ll be back tomorrow.
All right. Share your location with me if you go anywhere so I know you’re safe.
Always.
I gather up the embroidery supplies and stuff them into my bag. I stare at the suitcase I’d thrown together and then the dress. The need to keep Ethan’s scent intact on it overrides the desire to wear it. Crossing the room, I dig out the yellow sweatshirt I’d worn the day Caleb got called to the fire. I swap out the pieces, pulling on a set of black leggings that smell only of my laundry detergent and then the hoodie, letting the cinnamon wash over me until it’s all I can smell.
I bypass the hotel’s breakfast, keeping my head low and my arms crossed. It shouldn’t feel so vulnerable, walking around in such a small town, but knowing that there’s no one to save me makes anxiety tighten in my stomach. It hadn’t bothered me when I moved to Creek Falls a couple months ago—not enough for me to notice it, at least.
My phone vibrates again, and I swipe open the message without looking.
I love you, sweetheart.
It’s the fifth time he’s texted me that since Saturday night. My fingers twitch with the desire to text him back, to let him comfort me in the middle of this mess. I wouldn’t feel alone and scared in the middle of this small mountain town if I texted him back. My fingers hover over the keyboard. I close the message before I can break. Panic tries to claw its way up my throat, but I stuff it down.
I can’t have Caleb, not if Ethan doesn’t want me, too. I refuse— refuse— to be a home wrecker like that bitch. I couldn’t live with myself if I was the cause of Camden not having access to both of his dads all the time. I breathe as deeply as I can manage, letting the cinnamon scent soothe me again.
I force a swallow to keep from crying again and push the main door open, burying my nose into the hoodie so I can’t smell any of the city. I share my location with Melissa before I forget. Jackson is quiet this early in the morning, mostly only tourists who are serious about their hiking and other outdoor sports are out.
Luckily, it’s also early enough that it’s not too warm for the hoodie, so I don’t rush the four block walk to the nearest coffee shop. Instead, I take the long route, trying to ease away the restless energy building in my bones.
It mostly works. By the time I’m standing in the small line, I don’t feel like I want to crawl out of my skin—or cry in a huddle in the corner.
My phone vibrates with a new notification. I press on the screen, and then my stomach drops out entirely. The email is innocuous, and yet it might as well be emblazoned with neon lettering.
How has it only been a weekend since I submitted the paperwork?
My hands tremble as I open the email and read through it. My mouth is dry, and I can’t quite remember how to breathe.
Of course this is the one time paperwork actually moves efficiently. God, I’m going to have find time today to go to the office and talk with the caseworker about my options.
The panic roars up again, and it takes every ounce of self-control earned from years working in corporate boardrooms to keep from dissolving into tears.
The barista offers me a smile as she calls me forward. I try to match it, but her face falls. I order a simple mocha without comment and then sink into the chair in the far corner of the small cafe, keeping my back to the door and windows.
My hands still tremble as I pull out the snapdragons I’ve been working on since Faedra’s visit. They’re nearly finished now, just a few small details needed before I can decide exactly what to do with them. I start in on them, willing the monotonous work to dull out my thoughts.
The same barista brings me a mug a few minutes later rather than call my name.
“Here,” she says. She sets a plate beside the mug, full of three different pastries. “On the house.”
Tears well in my eyes as I glance up at her. She offers another smile, this one more vulnerable than the last. As she turns back to the counter, the lights above us catch on a silver scar just behind her ear, right where my tattoo is.
My breath catches. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder, and I drop my gaze.
Damn, I’m a mess.
I eat one of the muffins even though I’m not particularly hungry. When I go to wipe off my hands to keep them from messing up the embroidery, I find a small note written in the corner of the napkin.
Even the darkest nights end. It’ll be okay.
I let my eyes flutter closed and focus on my breathing. God damn it, I will not cry. Not yet. After a count to thirty, I grab the flowers and start on them again. I lose track of time, my mind finally quieting.
A small voice has me practically jumping out of my skin.
“‘Cuse me,” a boy says. “Can I have this chair?”
“Go for it,” I say without glancing up.
There’s a long pause, only interrupted with the scrape of the chair’s legs on the tile floor, and then he says, “Thanks, Mommy Bri.”
My gaze snaps up, my composure thrown out the window when my eyes lock on his bright blue eyes, a kid-sized to-go cup in his hand. I glance around the cafe, but I don’t see either of his fathers anywhere. Maybe he’d come with Emily?
“You okay, Cam?” I ask.
He doesn’t seem to notice the shakiness of my voice.
Swinging his legs, he says,“Daddy said he’s grabbing something and for me to not go anywhere else. Papa promised whipped cream when he gave me this.” His tongue sticks out a bit as he works to get the lid off. His grin is huge before he cackles, licking a large piece of the whipped topping off the drink. “There’s sprinkles, too. This place is kind of cool.”
The bells jingle again, a singular set of steps throbbing like a heartbeat in my ear. The unmistakable mint scent of him surrounds me, and my breath catches in my throat, a presence behind me that has my heart racing.
“Brielle,” he murmurs, and my heart skips a beat.