43. CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 43
ARI
T he Ducati engine can be heard all the way up the street as Ethan makes his way home, and it’s a welcome sound. He’s been gone for half the day and when I texted earlier to ask if he was hungry for pizza, he responded with “ravenous.” Just that one word gave me hope.
“What’s that grin for?” Fonz asks as he comes to stand next to me by the window, watching Ethan pull in the driveway.
I lift a hand to my mouth to feel my smile, making sure it’s not an illusion. “I think we’re going to make it.”
Fonz drapes an arm over me. “Ari, I’ve known you two would end up together since you were kids. You guys were written in the stars and all that shit.”
A moment passes. “What about you and Matt? Are you guys written in the stars?”
“No.” His answer is quick. “Matt and I are written in graffiti on the side of a decommissioned railroad bridge.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because all we do is fight. But the chemistry is off the hook, so we cool off for a few days and then are right back at it again.”
“Ah, the perils of a toxic relationship.” I lean my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Fonz.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is, until one of us tires of it.”
When Ethan comes inside, a ghost of a smile crosses his face when he sees Fonz and I leaned into one another, waiting for him to come home. And then it falls when, I assume, he takes in my darkening bruises. He slowly crosses the room and kisses the top of my head before disappearing into the bathroom.
Baby steps.
The pizza arrives and the three of us dig in as if we haven’t had a meal in a week. Fonz fills us in on how the family business is doing these days, Ethan goes off about one of the salespeople at work who “doesn’t respect deadline,” and I tell the guys how Sophie and I are going to have some girl time this week. I called her shortly after Ethan left, and she read me the riot act. How that girl is still friends with me, I will never understand.
Eventually, Fonz stands and tosses our paper plates into the empty pizza box and picks it up.
“I can get it.” I start to stand, but Ethan places his hand on top of mine on the table. Our eyes meet, and although we say nothing, I know exactly what he’s trying to communicate to me.
Change .
I stay seated, and instead ball up my napkin and toss it into the empty chicken wing container, pushing it toward the other side of the table where Fonz is cleaning up. “Thanks,” I say before he heads out to the garage with the garbage.
Yawning, I glance out the window. It’s only just starting to get dark but I can barely keep my eyes open. “I’m going to go lay down.” I risk a glance at Ethan, who gives me a stiff nod.
When I get to our bedroom, I crawl onto my side of the bed and pull the sheet over me, facing the wall. It’s not long before I hear the soft click of the door opening and closing behind me.
“Can I join you?” Ethan asks softly from the other side of the room.
I smile into my pillow. “It’s your bed,” I say playfully.
“No, Red. It’s our bed.” Ethan’s belt jingles as he undoes it, and I hear shuffling as he discards his pants. The bed dips behind me, and the sheets pull slightly as he settles in. But I don’t feel his touch. And, dammit, I ache for it.
Trying to control my breathing, I silently will him to reach for me. Touch me … Please, touch me …
But instead, I go without.
We both lay awake. I know he’s awake. Just breathing. Thinking. Finally, I feel the tingling of my scalp when my hair moves, and I know he’s touching it. I imagine his fingers running through it. It must eventually put me to sleep because suddenly I’m startled awake to the sounds of grunts coming from Ethan, who is wrapped around me like a boa constrictor. His fists clench and unclench handfuls of my shirt, head thrashing back and forth against my chest.
“Ethan.” I run my hands over his bare back and shoulders. “Wake up.”
“No!” he shouts in his sleep. “Stop it. I said STOP!”
“Ethan!” I say louder, sitting up with him draped across my lap. “You’re having a dream. Wake up!” I tap the side of his face with my open hand a few times, and he wakes with a jolt.
“Ari?” He pushes up onto his elbows, his hands roaming my upper arms, then my face.
“Yes, it’s me. You’re just having a nightmare,” I say as he grips my battered face in his hands, and I hold back a wince. His eyes are wild, he’s sweating and breathing heavily.
“Ari?” he asks again, as if he can’t be sure I’m actually here. “I thought … I thought … Oh, God.” He turns quickly and flings his legs over the side of the bed, then scrubs a hand through his short hair. I reach for him, but he stands abruptly and storms out of the room.
“Ethan.” I stumble out of bed and follow him to the kitchen, stopping when I see him leaning against the island in the dark, his hands flat against the marble countertops, head dipped down. “Are you OK?”
“Go back to bed, Ari.” His voice is low and husky.
I take a step into the kitchen. “I know your nightmares are about Axel. And me. All of us. Talk to me.”
I hear his heavy exhale. “What do you want me to say, Red? That I keep reliving all the times I let you down? Or all the times you showed up bruised and bloody and I did nothing?”
I take a few steps closer. “Ethan, that’s not true—”
“The hell it isn’t!” He slams a hand down on the marble. “You were just a kid. And I didn’t … I couldn’t …”
“You couldn’t what? You were a kid, too.”
“I couldn’t protect you! I had one job”—he jabs his pointer finger in the air—“and I was too pathetic to do it.”
“It wasn’t your job!” I raise my voice back to him. “I was never your responsibility.”
“Yes, you were, because I loved you! I loved you even back then, Ari.” He fists his hands and holds them tight against his stomach as he approaches me. “You were the most important thing in the world to me and I couldn’t keep you safe.”
I hear a creak behind me and turn to see Fonz standing by the entrance to the kitchen. Ethan doesn’t seem to notice. Or he just doesn’t care. “Even now, years later, I still can’t keep you safe from him.”
“Because I’m a stupid, stupid girl!” Dragging my fingers through the roots of my hair, I stalk past him and pace to the end of the kitchen. “And that stupid little girl with the broken tooth and dirt under her fingernails just wanted to be loved! And I thought he did!”
“ I love you, Ari.” Ethan’s voice breaks. “ I do. Me .” His face is red and the veins on his neck bulge as he prowls toward me, this time beating his fists against his chest. “I fucking love you, but I can’t compete with him. Why? Tell me why. Please!”
I back up, crying, as he advances on me until my back is against the wall, and he grips my upper arms firmly. The first tears breach his lower lids and streak down his cheeks. I shake my head violently. “No, Ethan.”
“I love you with everything that I have, Red.” The tears fall feely down his face. His eyes dart between mine, frantic, as his words rush out. “I give you all of me—everything. I would worship at your feet if you let me. I would cut my own heart out and give it to you if I thought that would make your heart whole, baby. But you don’t let me.” He closes his eyes, his lashes dark and saturated with tears as he whispers, “Why can’t my love be enough?”
My heart constricts painfully as I let out a sob. “It is! You love me better than I deserve. The problem isn’t you, Ethan. It’s me! I barely understand what it means to be loved by a man like you.” I have to pause to wipe the tears out of my eyes, hissing as I press on my bruised face.
Ethan pulls his lips between his teeth and nods his head like he’s thinking. “A man like me?” He drops my arms and scratches the back of his head with one hand, placing the other on his hip. “What, am I not violent enough for you? Do you need me to be more aggressive? Is that what you want?” He strikes a fist out and punches the wall beside me with two quick blows, denting the plaster and causing me to shriek and recoil, bringing my hands to the sides of my head as I sob. “Am I not angry enough for you?” he bellows.
“Ethan,” I hear Fonz warn from the other side of the kitchen.
“No, Fonz, it’s OK,” Ethan seethes in my face. “This is what she needs. Ain’t that right, Ari? You want to see me get pissed off? Is that the only way you know that I love you? I’ve got to break some shit?”
He spins and grabs a glass off the counter, hurling it at the wall adjacent to us, and I scream. Then he upends the bar cart, and glass and liquids go flying everywhere.
“You’re scaring me,” I blubber, snot dripping down my nose and onto my upper lip.
“Oh, you’re scared of me now? You can take it from Axel, but as soon as I step out of line you get scared? You should just be bursting at the seams with all the love I’m showing you!” He spreads his arms wide. “Is this enough?” When I don’t answer, he lunges back toward me and punches the wall beside me again, this time breaking a hole through it. “Are you satisfied?!”
I recoil and slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, holding my head in my hands as I sob.
“Ethan, that’s enough!” Fonz shouts, and I hear his footsteps.
I try to wipe the nonstop tears from my face as I bring my head up and look at Ethan through my good eye, and see his tormented ones. His face is pale, cheeks tearstained. His neck muscles bulge as he frantically sucks in air. Shaking his head slightly, he brings his fists up to his temples. “Red.”
I see the horror in his face. The sadness. The regret. He backs up slowly until he meets the wall on the other side of the kitchen and sinks down until he’s sitting on the floor, opposite me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers as more tears come. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He hangs his head and starts shaking it slowly as he sobs, too. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be better. Stronger. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.”
I shake my own head as we sit on the cold tile in the dark kitchen, several feet between us that may as well be miles. I watch as Ethan’s sobs intensify and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. His head falls onto his forearms resting on his knees as he curls over and gives into it.
Fonz rushes over and slides himself down beside his best friend, placing a hand on the back of Ethan’s neck, as tears fall down his own face as well.
Unable to take the distance any longer, I slowly get to my hands and knees and crawl toward them, my skin stinging as I make my way over broken glass. “Ethan,” I say through my tears when I finally get to them. “Look at me.”
He just shakes his head in his hands. “Hey.” I place my hand over his, sliding my slim fingers through his thick ones, and he grips them between his trembling knuckles. With a steadying breath, my voice gets stronger. “Ethan, look at me.”
His red, swollen eyes peek up over his forearm.
“You were the only reason I could face every day.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I should have … Shit …” There are so many things I want to say, and I can’t seem to get my bearings to articulate them correctly. To make him see. I wish I could go back to that little girl and tell him.
And then it hits me. I can.
Quickly, I scramble up off the floor and run into the bedroom. I find my leggings on the floor and pull them on, hopping up and down to get them all the way up. I sit on the edge of the bed and thrust my feet into my sneakers, then I grab a hoodie out of Ethan’s closet and am zipping it up as I run back into the kitchen. Passing the guys on the floor, I pluck my keys off the counter before turning around and taking the few steps back to Ethan and Fonz, squatting down in front of them.
I place my hand on Ethan’s forearm, next to where his head is resting, and he snaps it up to look at me. “I’ll be back soon,” I say.
Ethan’s bloodshot, glassy eyes dart between mine as he asks, softly, “You running, Red?”
“No.” I cup his face in my hand. “I have to go back to my apartment—my old apartment—to get something that I need to show you. I need you to wait right here for me until I get back, OK? I should only be thirty minutes, tops.” He doesn’t say anything. He just leans into my palm and closes his eyes.
I look over to Fonz. “Stay with him?” I ask, and he nods. “I’ll be right back. I promise. Stay right here—I’m coming right back.”
I turn and run out the door and to my car. It’s not until I’m peeling out of the driveway that I realize I ran back and forth through the house, and then to my car. And I ran away from Axel yesterday.
I haven’t run since the accident.
I speed to the Millers’ at a rate that would surely send me to jail and leave the car running as I punch the garage code into the little keypad and wait for the door to rise, dipping down to go under before it’s even all the way up.
When I swing the door open, I rush over to the dresser and find the shoebox full of letters right where I left them. I grab it, work the lid out from underneath, secure it on top, and rush right back out.