Chapter 11 – Amanda
Eleven
Amanda
H e won't try anything with his mama in the house. I silently repeat that mantra to myself as I allow the woman who introduces herself as Deborah to prepare me a cup of coffee and whip out some croissants from the fridge to heat up in the Air Fryer.
We bond over our mutual love of air fryers while Ethan seethes, gazing intensely at his phone.
"Gambling again?" his mother asks.
As a therapist, I set my coffee down and listen.
"No," Ethan says, his cheeks turning red. "I'm simply checking on... Donald Trump."
"The president?" I ask, suddenly ready to be sick.
"No," his mother scoffs. "The stupid pot bellied pig he keeps betting on."
"Huh?"
"Pot bellied pig races? They're popular at state fairs all over the country. Donald Trump just lost Mississippi when he should have been a sure win."
"I'm not gambling," Ethan snaps, seething at his phone again, and drawing it closer to him so neither of us can see the screen.
Deborah shakes her head and looks at me with warm eyes, the same color as Ethan's. Men who take after their mothers tend to be very beautiful, with those feminine features blending well with the masculine elements of their faces. That's true with Ethan.
He has his mother's eyes and a sharp nose, with a square, masculine jawline that he constantly has clenched up in some grumpy stance.
"How long has he been like this?" I ask his mother, mostly because Ethan's discomfort here will finally give him a taste of what he deserves. Also, I need an ally and Deborah is the first one I've found.
"All the Shaw boys love gambling."
"I'm not gambling," Ethan grunts, his face scrunching up so much it looks like it's going to turn into a butthole.
"Fine," Deborah says. "Amanda, how did you meet Ethan? He's never brought home a doctor before. Mostly floozies."
"MOM!"
She laughs. "I wiped your ass, Ethan. I'm not afraid of you."
I laugh into my coffee so Ethan doesn't notice, but he senses. I know he senses.
"I'm going to call Darragh," he grunts. "Don't talk to each other. Don't scheme. Don't plot."
I relax more once I'm alone with Deborah. Ethan was lowkey bringing the mood down.
"Did Ethan tell you I have cancer?"
She registers the surprise. "No."
Deborah smiles to ease the tension between us, but I can't help but feel my heart breaking. She doesn't look sick -- many people don't -- but to carry on a brave face in such circumstances instead of sulking around...
"Oh honey, don't look like that," Deborah says, taking her glasses off her forehead and setting them on the counter. "But if something happens to me... I worry about Ethan."
I flashback to the man at Cumberland Farms and suppress an inappropriate smirk. Not to mention the man he shot in my office. I'm more worried about the men Ethan comes into contact with than Ethan.
I pause, using strategic silence to allow her time to speak. Deborah sighs and fidgets with the glasses.
"He's rough around the edges, but he's just a sensitive little boy deep down."
This man dislocated a shoulder earlier today, but I keep that to myself and listen.
"He could use a woman's touch."
"We aren't together."
She smiles and then laughs. "Can I be honest with you, Amanda?"
I'm glad she stops calling me Dr. Yancey. Introducing myself that way became a force of habit once I got my credentials. You have to let the people know that you slaved for those letters.
"Yes. Sure."
"You're here with Ethan and I'm guessing you came from Boston. If you came this far with a Shaw man, it's a matter of time."
"He made it clear to me that he isn't attracted to black women "
"He made that clear to you?" Deb asks, her face narrowing. She looks a little embarrassed, which endears me to her. From my job, I know that kids can end up a lot worse than their parents. I also can't discount Deb's potential as a source of information about Ethan and how to get under his skin.
"I'm not offended," I respond. "He sort of... I guess kidnapped me? Saved my life?"
Deb looks downright worried. "I hope he didn't touch you inappropriately. I had to have this conversation with Wyatt."
From context clues, Wyatt must be Ethan's brother.
"He didn't touch me," I reassure her. "And he won't. But he also won't tell me when I can go back to Boston or get back to my life."
"Did you have a boyfriend in that life? I can tell you're not a mother, no offense."
"None taken..."
But I am at that age where people think it's "weird" that you don't have a kid. Listen, I looked at how the cards laid out in front of me. I could choose to get pregnant by some guy, or go to graduate school and put a roof over my own head -- forever. I chose grad school and even if I want to find love, I don't regret my choices over popping out a baby for the asshole I dated when I was twenty-five. Yuck.
I had growing up to do first and if growing up means you can't find love anymore... this world is in a sorry ass state.
Deb touches my arm gently. "Take it from a lady kicking cancer's ass, ignore my son's comments on race. He would be lucky to get attention from a doctor."
"He just saved me because I was there," I reassure her. "Sorry, Deb."
"It's nothing," she says. "It's hard watching your son grow up and knowing that... well... he would be lucky to find a woman to put up with him at all."
Before Deb can offer me more wisdom about Ethan, we hush up because we hear his footsteps stomping around the house like an irritated ogre. He bursts into the kitchen like he expected to catch us french kissing.
"What were you talking about?"
"None of your business," Deb says. "Do you have good news for me? I have to get to my appointment, Bear."
She calls him Bear. It's cute. Plus, watching their interaction gives me ammo for when I inevitably get trapped with her son later. Bear.
Ethan sits at a kitchen counter stool, his stance spread wide. He pulls his phone out and I hear suspicious notifications, which he addresses in a few seconds before giving his mother the news. He doesn't address me directly, although I'm clearly just as eager about getting to Boston.
"Security breach," he says. "Bikers must've tracked me through Darragh Murray, but they didn't just come after me, they breached his brother's home security system and hit multiple points in Boston."
"Why?" Deb asks. "I thought your brother had them handled."
"We did," Ethan snarls, his grumpiness increasing exponentially. "These men are posers. Members who fell off the original Midnight SS roster, stole weapons and cuts... they're the outlaws of outlaws."
"How many of them?" Deb asks, her gaze sharpening on Ethan's. This is not her first rodeo and honestly, I don't know what type of family this is in the first place. I didn't reveal too much to Deb and I can see that I was cautious not to underestimate her.
It's not about liking her, it's about the fact that I witnessed a crime... and I'm way over my head.
"Rian Murray whacked three of them at his estate. I got the one who broke into Dr. Yancey's office, and the Boston PD has one more who they suspect committed the Cambridge murders."
Deb's face grows white. "The Cambridge murders?"
"Yes."
"So you have a fall guy," she responds in a hushed tone, as if the walls could listen to us. "Good."
"I didn't hurt anyone," Ethan says, his voice so steady that I believe him.
His mother nods. "Good. Excellent."
"So we'll be back in Boston soon?" I ask hopefully. Ethan glares at me like I just asked him to look at his butthole.
"No," he growls at me. "Mom, Aiden Murray will collect you from the city tomorrow with a convoy and provide a personal security detail until your next appointment.” Then he changes his attention back to me.
“You're staying with me."
"Staying here?"
New York and Boston are practically sister cities. Maybe I could convince Mallory to come out and visit if this man won't let me out of his sight...
Ethan pops my bubble enthusiastically, barely concealing his wicked smirk.
"No," he says. "I'm taking you out West until the Boston Police Department completes their investigation. And trial."
"That could be years," I blurt out. I try to stay cool around Ethan, but this is ridiculous. He can't yank me out of my life and expect me to sit around captive for years.
"There must be some compromise," Deb says to her son, offering the brutish man some reason and sense. "Dr. Yancey has a life and she must have clients and friends..."
Ethan glares at both of us.
"I knew I shouldn't have left you alone to scheme," he says. "I brought this mess to Amanda and if she dies, her blood will be on my hands. It's not happening. Ever."
He gets up and points at me with a ruthless and honestly extremely rude finger.
"You. Wait for me in the bedroom. I need to speak to my mother alone."
I glance at Deb to say goodbye. She shakes her head with disappointment at Ethan, but she doesn't fight him. I can't blame her. That man is as hard-headed as a weathered bull.
"Good night, Deb. It was nice meeting you."
"Enough," Ethan growls at me. "Just go wait and don't cause more trouble."
More trouble? I didn't even do anything. I cast a brutal glare at Ethan, which he ignores for his phone, and I walk to our bedroom quietly preparing my psychological attack on "Bear", who must be out of his cracker jack mind if he thinks I'll remain his captive... for years.
I rapidly construct a psychological profile of Ethan while he's gone. He didn't leave me with entertainment, and I fully plan on starting an argument when he gets back here, so I have the argument in my head first. It's normal and it's healthy.
First, I know he loves his mother and that they're strongly attached. He might be the firstborn son based on the way she talks about him. He carries shame about his gambling addiction, but neither shame nor love stops his impulses. Not like they would for that sort of addiction...
Second, he's been alone for a long time. His mother carried that desperation about him which a manwhore's mother never possesses. I've seen enough in my therapeutic career, the mother of a manwhore is just about tired of meeting other women. Deb couldn't wait to tell me all the reasons I should give her son a chance.
Romance is the last thing on my mind when I'm in a room with Ethan. He's rude. He might have a very sexy physique, but that doesn't make up for the way he carries himself like a total asshole. The nicest thing he's done is... well, I can't forget the gas station.
It was crazy as fuck and totally unhinged, but I felt strangely safe knowing that he would dislocate the shoulder of any man who touched me. I've never had that level of physical safety in my life, and that feeling could be as addictive as any drug.
But maybe that's my ticket out of here. Romance. His loneliness. His relationship with his mom. The gambling. If I deploy some manipulative cocktail including these elements... I can earn my freedom by striking a deal that Ethan can't refuse. A wager, perhaps. If he loves gambling so much, I'll take his dopamine receptors for a spin and maybe then I won't feel so damn powerless here.
His conversation with his mother is long enough that the sun sets completely. The window to our bedroom looks down on a quiet (by city standards) residential street. I can hear sirens in the distance and what sounds like... Trinidadian steel pan. The second sound might be my imagination, but maybe it's possible in Brooklyn. I don't know much about this area.
When Ethan opens the door, he just has his black t-shirt on and jeans. He finally took his boots off instead of stomping mud around the house with them.
"You're not asleep," he says to me with visible disappointment.
"If I'm such a burden, I could go to Boston... with your mom. Like her caretaker or something."
"You're not leaving my sight. So give it up."
I bury my internal reaction to his brutish response. This man deserves a slap, but I have to muster up immense patience to deal with him instead.
"I seem to annoy the hell out of you, so what's the point in keeping me around."
"Duty."
"I have a duty to myself and you have more important duties than looking after me."
He scoffs. "Not really. I could still use you..."
I pause, waiting for him to finish that thought and praying that he doesn't say anything unhinged and dirty.
"I'm still gambling."
That was obvious.
"I see."
"I want to stop. I need you to fix me."
That's not how this works... But I see an opportunity to make a deal with Ethan that I didn't have before, so I throw Dr. Yancey out the window and do what Amanda would do — survive.
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