Chapter 18
CECE
The sunshine streaming through the diner window feels like it's personally attacking my brain from the lingering hangover headache, but the smell of melting cheese is slowly bringing me back to life.
I'm hunched over what might be the greasiest pizza in San Salona, and it's exactly what my body needs.
“I can't believe this place is still here,” I say, tearing off another slice. “I thought for sure they'd have gone under by now.”
Brayden smirks across the red vinyl booth. “Tony's pizza has survived three recessions and a health inspector with a vendetta. Pretty sure it'll outlast us all.”
I look around Tony’s Pizzeria, taking in the chipped Formica and the ancient jukebox in the corner still committed to its five-song Bon Jovi playlist. The walls are covered with faded team photos and yellowing clippings, all frozen in time.
Walking in feels as though I’ve stepped straight back into high school.
“God, I haven't been here since senior year,” I muse, dabbing at a string of cheese dangling from my chin. “Remember when this was the only place anyone ever wanted to hang out?”
“Not much else to do in this town,” Brayden says, reaching for his soda. “Unless you count getting drunk at Miller's Pond or making out behind the bleachers.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” I catch the knowing gleam he doesn’t bother to hide. “What, you think I spent my Friday nights behind the bleachers?”
“I think every teenager in this town spent at least one night behind those bleachers.”
“I’ll have you know I was a very well-behaved teenager.”
“Bullshit,” he says, grinning. “Nobody’s that good.”
I take another bite of pizza to avoid answering, though I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
The truth is, I wasn’t nearly as rebellious as some of the other kids, but I had my moments.
Little things my father never knew about.
Sneaking out after curfew. A stolen beer with Emma behind the community center.
Fun in small doses. Nowhere near the chaos my friends chased.
“Fine,” I concede. “Maybe I wasn’t completely innocent. But compared to you, I was practically a saint.”
Brayden leans back, one arm stretched across the back of the booth. The motion pulls his T-shirt snug across his chest, and I catch a glimpse of ink curling out from under his sleeve.
“If you still want to live some of those teenage dreams,” he says, voice low, “I can make that happen, princess.”
The look he gives me sends heat blooming in my cheeks. There’s something about Brayden’s casual promises of sin, delivered in that gravel-drenched tone, that makes my pulse skip.
“You’re terrible.”
“And yet, here you are.”
His gaze holds mine across the table, and for a moment, I forget we’re in a public place. I forget everything except the memory of his hands on my skin.
The bell above the door jingles and the spell shatters. I glance over and immediately regret it. Ethan walks in with Britney on his arm. Her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow like she always belonged there.
“Shit,” I mutter, ducking my head.
Brayden’s posture shifts instantly. His shoulders tense as he watches my ex make his way across the restaurant.
“Want to leave?” he asks, already half-rising.
“No,” I say, surprised by the steel in my own voice. “I’m not running from him anymore.”
Brayden settles back, but the easygoing calm from earlier is gone.
I try to focus on my pizza, silently praying Ethan won’t notice us. But of course, the universe can’t resist irony. He moves toward our booth, all smugness and smiles.
“Still slumming it, Cece?”
Brayden’s jaw locks.
“Funny,” I reply, voice steady. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
Ethan’s smile is razor-thin. “I see you’ve fully committed to your little rebellion.” His gaze flicks dismissively over Brayden before snapping back to me. “Your father is beside himself, you know. The whole congregation is praying for your return to sanity.”
I take a deliberate bite of my pizza, chewing slowly before answering. “How thoughtful. And here I was worried no one would notice I'm having the time of my life.”
Britney shifts uncomfortably beside him, her bleached-blonde hair falling in perfect curls around her surgically enhanced features. She tugs at Ethan's arm. “Baby, our table's ready.”
Ethan ignores her, leaning down until his hands are flat on our table. “This won't last, Cece. You know that, right? Whatever thrill you're getting from this—” he flicks his gaze toward Brayden, “—criminal will ruin you.”
I feel Brayden's energy shift beside me. “The only thing that will be ruined is your fucking face, when I rearrange it with my fist, asshole.”
Ethan's eyes narrow, but he doesn't move. “Go ahead. I'm sure assault charges would look great on top of your already impressive record.”
“Ethan, stop,” I hiss. “Just go to your table.”
Britney tugs harder at his arm. “Please, baby. People are staring.”
They are. The few other customers in Tony's are watching our table with undisguised interest. In a town this small, public confrontations are better than television.
Ethan straightens, adjusting his collar with a flick of his wrist. “You'll come to your senses eventually, Cece. And when you do, don't expect anyone to welcome you back with open arms. You've made your choice.”
“Best decision I ever made.”
He gives me one last contemptuous look before allowing Britney to lead him to a table near the back.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brayden growls, his eyes fixed on Ethan’s retreating back as if he could set it on fire through sheer will.
I nod, the pizza in front of me suddenly as appealing as cardboard. “I’ve lost my appetite anyway.”
Brayden catches Tony’s eye and makes the universal check, please gesture. The owner nods, already pulling out his receipt pad.
“I need to use the bathroom first,” I say, sliding out of the booth. “Meet you outside?”
“I’ll pay the tab.” He nods, though I can tell he hates the idea of letting me out of his sight while Ethan’s still in the room. “Make it quick.”
I weave through the tables, heading toward the hallway marked Restrooms, and feel the weight of Ethan’s stare as I pass. I keep my chin up, refusing to let him see me flinch.
The women’s bathroom is empty, thankfully. I lock myself in a stall and lean against the door, drawing slow breaths to steady the jittery feeling beneath my skin. The confrontation rattled me more than I want to admit.
Ethan still has that effect. This subtle, insidious way of making me feel small. I hate it.
At the sink, I splash cold water on my face and study my reflection in the smudged mirror. My cheeks are flushed—not with shame this time, but with anger. My gaze burns a little too bright.
Progress, I guess.
I take my time washing my hands. I don’t want to rush out. I don’t want Ethan to think he chased me off. Because I’m done running. Done letting him think he holds any power over me.
The door swings open just as I'm reaching for a paper towel. I freeze, my wet hands dripping onto the floor as Ethan slips inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
“What the hell are you doing?” I back up against the sink.
“We need to talk,” Ethan says, his voice softer now, reasonable. It's the tone he used to use when he wanted to convince me I was overreacting. “Alone, without your pet criminal breathing down my neck.”
“Get out, Ethan.” I try to move toward the door, but he steps sideways, blocking my path.
“Two minutes,” he says, holding up his fingers. “That's all I'm asking.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” My heart pounds against my ribs.
Ethan moves closer, his cologne wrapping around me like a noose. “I'm worried about you, Cece. Everyone is.”
“Worried?” I laugh, but it sounds brittle even to my own ears. “That's rich coming from the man who spent our entire marriage making me miserable.”
“Making you miserable?” Ethan's face contorts with disbelief. “I gave you everything, Cece. A beautiful home, financial security, social standing. What more could you possibly have wanted?”
“I don't know, maybe a husband who didn't screw every available woman in town?”
He steps closer, backing me against the sink. “You want to know why I strayed? Why I had to look elsewhere?” His eyes harden as he looks me up and down. “You were frigid. A goddamn ice queen in our bedroom.”
The shock lands hard, stealing my breath. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He leans in, voice dropping to a cruel whisper.
“You think I wanted to cheat? I didn't. But one can only take so many nights of putting their dick in a cold fish before giving up.
All those nights you'd lie there, stiff as a board, waiting for it to be over.” He shakes his head with mock sympathy.
“No wonder I had to find my pleasure elsewhere.”
Hot shame floods my cheeks, followed immediately by white-hot anger so intense my vision blurs at the edges.
“Brayden would disagree with you.” I spit back.
Ethan’s face transforms instantly, tightening with the kind of fury I remember all too well. His hand shoots out, clamping around my wrist hard enough to make me wince.
“You little slut,” he hisses, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my face. “You're fucking him?”
I try to wrench my arm away. “Let go of me.”
“Did it feel good to debase yourself? To let that piece of garbage touch you?” His grip tightens. “Did you think about me while he was inside you?”
“Not even once,” I say as I grit my teeth. “And he's twice the man you'll ever be.”
Something unsettling flickers across Ethan’s face. For a moment, I think he might actually hit me. Instead, he drags me closer, his face inches from mine
“You think he actually cares?” he spits. “Men like that don’t care about anything but what’s between a woman’s legs.”
“Like you cared so much?” I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. “Let me go, Ethan. Now.”