Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
ETHAN
Scalding water beat down on my shoulders, but it didn’t do shit to rinse the stink of tonight off me. I scrubbed my skin raw, like maybe if I rubbed hard enough, I could wash away the memory of the way Bell had looked at me … like I wasn’t worth the dirt under his shoes.
His words slammed into me again, as fresh and vicious as when he’d first uttered them. “You don’t have anything. You’re alone and miserable.”
I braced my hands on the tile in front of me, bowing my head between my shoulders.
He hadn’t said it to be cruel. I knew that. He’d said it because he meant it.
Because it was true.
All night, I tried telling myself I was protecting him. Told myself that Bell was young, naive, and impulsive, and he didn’t understand how the world worked. That he didn’t comprehend what being with me would do to his career. He was just coming into his full potential, and I wanted to keep him safe from the shitstorm that would erupt if anyone found out about us.
But really, all I’d been doing was protecting myself.
Because Bell already knew how ugly the world could be, had personally experienced all the ways in which it would try to break you, and he’d met that hate full on, his head held high with a defiant “fuck you” for anyone who tried to tell him he couldn’t be who he was.
Couldn’t love who he wanted, regardless of what equipment they were packing.
So no, I hadn’t been protecting him at all.
I’d been trying to protect myself at his expense.
With my forehead pressed against the shower tiles, I pictured him on the other side of the wall packing his shit. Getting ready to leave. Breaking apart again.
A whimper bubbled up from my throat as I recalled every night we’d spent curled up together on the sofa watching SportsCenter or studying video footage for upcoming games, Bell tucked against my side like he belonged there. Every morning when he refused to let me leave the house without one last kiss. Every laugh, every touch, every look that made me believe—even if just for a second—that maybe I could finally have something good.
The panic hit me hard and sudden, and I gasped for breath, my chest heaving like I’d just skated a triple overtime.
I shut off the water, grabbing a towel and dragging it over my body with frantic, impatient hands. My skin was burned raw from scrubbing, but I barely felt it through the panic clawing at my chest.
If I didn’t fix this, Bell was gone.
Not just from this house. From me . From everything we could have had if I wasn’t so fucking scared all the damn time.
I had to tell him the truth.
When I reached his bedroom door, I knocked once.
“Go away,” came a muffled reply that sounded thick with misery.
“No,” I said, my voice cracking in the dark hallway. “Please. We need to talk.”
When he didn't answer, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. Bell was on his bed, curled tight around a pillow like he was trying to hold himself together by sheer force of will. Even in the dim light, I could see the way his shoulders heaved with each uneven breath.
“Bell,” I whispered his name, the word coming out strangled.
He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge me beyond a tightening of his grip on the pillow.
I crossed the room and dropped to my knees by his bed, reaching for him before I could think better of it. The moment my fingertips brushed his back, he flinched away with a violent jerk.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarled, his voice raw.
Even though it shouldn’t have—not after the scene in the living room earlier—his rejection hit like a crosscheck to the sternum. I let my hand fall, but didn’t move from my position on the floor.
“Baby, please,” I rasped, the words catching in my throat. “I know I don’t deserve to?—”
“You don’t deserve shit,” he cut me off, finally rolling to face me. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. “Did you even think about how it felt for me to wait here all night, wondering where you were, who you were with?”
The accusation in his eyes broke something in me. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe through the crushing weight of what I’d done.
“I wasn’t with anyone,” I whispered. “I swear to God, Bell.”
A hollow laugh escaped him. “Then why do you smell like someone else’s cheap cologne? Why’d you leave me here alone?”
“Because you’re right. I’m a fucking coward!” The admission tore from me, leaving me feeling hollowed out and empty. “Because I got scared and I ran, like I always do—just like you said.”
Bell’s eyes narrowed, disbelief written across his face.
“I wasn’t with anyone,” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Some drunk asshole spilled his beer all over me at the bar. I changed into an old shirt I found in my car. The cologne … it was from a promo Lacey did last season.”
His expression didn’t soften, but something shifted in his eyes.
“I let you think—” My voice broke completely, and to my horror, I felt the burn of tears in my eyes and throat. I swallowed past the lump there. “I let you think I could be with someone who wasn’t you because it was easier than admitting how fucking terrified I am.” The tears came then, humiliating and unstoppable, spilling down my cheeks.
“Terrified of what, exactly?” Bell demanded, but his voice had lost some of its edge. “Make me understand.”
“Of everything.” I dragged a shaking hand through my hair. “Of wanting you. Of needing you. Of what happens if people find out about us.” A ragged breath tore from my lungs. “Of what happens if they don’t, and I spend the rest of my life hiding the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Bell said nothing, but his eyes never left mine.
“You were right,” I continued, the words rushing out now. “I don’t have anything. I don’t have friends, and I don’t have a relationship with my family. Not really. I’ve spent my whole fucking life running from who I am, and then you came along and—” I choked on the words, had to force them out. “And you saw me. The real me. It was like you took one fucking look at me and just knew . You made me feel alive for the first time ever, and it fucking terrifies me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his breathing uneven. “You hurt me,” he finally said, his voice sounding small and uncertain.
So not like the Bell I knew and loved.
“I know. I know , and I hate myself for it.” I reached for his hand, desperate for connection. He didn’t pull away this time, but he didn’t grasp mine back, either. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”
“Why should I believe you?” he asked, his voice flat, empty. “How do I know you won’t run the next time a bunch of assholes post those types of comments again? Because I guarantee you, they absolutely will.”
I swallowed hard. “I can’t promise I won’t be scared.” I shifted closer, still on my knees. “I can’t lose you, Bell. You’re the most important person in my life.”
Something flickered in his eyes. A spark of … if not quite forgiveness, something adjacent to it. But that softness was quickly replaced by a hard glint, his expression turning mean.
Goosebumps bloomed on my skin. From fear or anticipation, I couldn’t say.
“Words are easy, Ethan,” he said, slowly sitting up. “I’m gonna need you to prove it.”
I nodded, wiping roughly at my face. “Anything. I’ll do anything .”
His eyes darkened, and he moved to the edge of the bed so he towered over me. “You made me feel worthless tonight,” he said quietly. “Like I was nothing to you."
“You’re everything to me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Everything.”
Bell’s hand shot out, gripping my chin hard enough to make me wince. He tilted my face up, studying me with an intensity that made my pulse skyrocket.
“Take off your fucking clothes,” he ordered, his voice low and menacing.
I didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think to question him. I rose just enough to strip my shirt over my head, then pushed my sweats down and kicked them away. I knelt before him again, completely nude and vulnerable in a way that went beyond my lack of clothing.
He looked at me for a long, excruciating moment, his eyes traveling slowly over my body. “Get on the bed,” he said finally. “On your back.”
I climbed onto the mattress, my heart hammering against my ribs as he stood and pulled his shirt off. The hard planes of his chest and abs were tight with tension, his body coiled like he was about to strike.
When he pushed his shorts down, his cock sprang free, already hard and flushed. My mouth went dry at the sight.
He followed me onto the bed but stayed just out of reach, his expression unreadable.
“Tell me what you thought about while you were in the shower.”
“You,” I admitted without hesitation. “How I fucked everything up with you. How I’d do anything to fix it.”
He moved closer then, straddling my thighs.
“And if I told you I was done with you?” he asked, each word deliberately cruel. “If I said this was it?”
The panic that gripped me was immediate and visceral. “I’d beg you to stay,” I whispered. “I’d get down on my fucking knees and beg until you believed me. I’d do whatever it took to prove to you that I’m worth taking a chance on.”
His eyes flashed with something almost primal then, and he finally leaned down and kissed me. But it wasn’t the type of soft, lingering kisses we often shared. This was pure dominance, teeth scraping against my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, his tongue pushing into my mouth without asking for permission.
I surrendered completely, letting him take whatever he needed.
When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged. “I’m still fucking furious with you,” he growled. “You made me go to places in my head tonight I vowed never to go again.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice hard with determination. “Do you understand me?”
I nodded, throat too tight to speak.
“Say it, Ethan.”
“I’m yours,” I managed, the words sounding like a vow I’d been afraid to make until now.
His eyes softened just a fraction before he reached for the lube in the nightstand drawer. But instead of prepping me as I expected him to, he pressed the bottle into my hand.
“Show me,” he ordered. “Show me how much you want my cock. How much you need me.”
Understanding flooded through me, hot and dizzying. With shaking hands, I uncapped the bottle and slicked my fingers. Bell moved back, giving me room to reach between my legs, my shoulder twinging with discomfort.
I held his gaze as I pushed the first finger inside myself, refusing to look away even as heat flooded my face. Letting him see me like this—vulnerable, wanting, desperate—was its own kind of penance.
He watched with hungry eyes as I worked myself open, adding a second finger, then a third, my breathing turning ragged.
“Please,” I begged. “Remind me who I belong to.” I opened my legs wide in invitation, but instead of pushing my thighs against my chest like I hoped he would, Bell gripped my hips and flipped me over roughly, manhandling me until I was on my hands and knees before him.
“This how you need it, E?” he growled, one hand sliding up my spine to push between my shoulder blades, forcing my chest down to the mattress. “Hard and fast. Leaving marks on your skin. Punishing you for making me cry.”
“Yes,” I gasped, no use denying it. It was true, and he knew it was true because he knew me. Better than anyone ever had before. Bell saw me. Saw what I needed. “Hurt me like I hurt you. It’s what I deserve.”
When he finally pushed into me, the stretch was almost too much, a burning fullness that bordered on pain. But I welcomed it, rocked back into it, desperate to feel him as deeply as possible.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. “You feel so good.”
He didn’t give me time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that had me clutching at the sheets, gasping with each deep thrust. This wasn’t gentle lovemaking—this was Bell claiming me, marking me as his in the most primal way possible.
“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded again, his voice strained.
“You,” I gasped, the word punched out of me on his next thrust. “Only you. Always you.”
He leaned down, his chest pressing against my back, his mouth hot against my ear. “Say my name.”
“Bell,” I moaned, my body tightening around him. “God, Bell, I need you.”
He thrust into me hard and then stilled.
“Bell,” I sobbed.
He pulled out and slammed back in.
“Bell.”
His hips surged forward again.
“Bell. I need you. I need you so bad.”
His rhythm faltered for just a moment before he drove into me harder, deeper.
“Again,” he commanded.
“I need you,” I repeated, the words spilling from me now, unstoppable. “I need you. I’m sorry. Oh god, I need you.”
He reached around, wrapping his hand around my dick, stroking me in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pushing me rapidly toward the edge.
“Give me your cum,” he growled. “Let me feel you milking my cock.”
I came with his name on my lips, my body clenching around him as pleasure ripped through me with an intensity that left me breathless.
Bell followed moments later, burying himself deep inside me with a broken groan that might have been my name.
After, as we lay tangled together, both of us breathing hard, he didn’t pull me close like he usually did. Instead, he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with guarded eyes.
“This doesn’t fix everything,” he said quietly.
I nodded, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “I know.”
“I need to know you won’t bail on me again,” he continued. “That when things get hard, you’ll stay. That you’ll fight for us.”
“I will,” I promised. “I swear to you, I won’t run again.”
He studied me for a long moment. “I want to believe that. Believe you.”
“What can I do?” I asked. “Tell me what you need from me.”
He was quiet for a moment, weighing his answer. “I need you to talk to me. No more shutting me out.” He took a deep breath. “And I need you to be honest with yourself about what you want. About who you are.”
The implication was clear—he needed me to stop hiding. Not just from him, but from the world.
“I’m not asking you to make some grand announcement,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “But I can’t be your dirty little secret forever, Ethan. I promised myself I’d never go back in the closet again.”
The thought of coming out terrified me—made my body literally clench with panic—but losing Bell scared me just as much … if not more.
“I don’t know if I can give you a timeline, but I promise I’ll get there. For you. For us.”
Something in his expression softened, and he finally leaned down to kiss me—gently this time, his earlier anger replaced with cautious tenderness.
“We’re not fixed,” he murmured against my lips. “But we’re not broken, either.”
It wasn’t complete forgiveness. It wasn’t an easy resolution. But as he settled against my chest, his body warm and solid against mine, I knew it was a beginning. A chance to prove myself. To be the man he deserved.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close, knowing I’d been given a gift I didn’t deserve.
“I’m going to try, I swear,” I whispered into his hair.
He didn’t make any promises in return. Not yet. But he burrowed closer, his arm tightening around my waist, and for now, that was enough.