16. All The Regrets （Ethan）
ALL THE REGRETS (ETHAN)
Years Ago
T he small pebble in my hand feels warm from the sun.
I toss it a couple times and catch it in my palm before whipping it over the waves.
It’s August—almost time to go back home to New York Shitty—and I’m so fucking sick of it.
Home?
Nah.
Even the thought makes my shoulders tighten with stress.
Too many expectations.
Too many lectures.
Too many pointed questions about when I’m going to get my shit together. Pretty rich, coming from parents who never worked a day in their lives.
Everyone wants to tie me down.
But at least I don’t have Mom and Dad dragging me around to their charity pet projects anymore. That’s something, I guess.
Deep down, I didn’t mind the causes, but the events were just as awful as the people.
Selfish, shallow pricks, all of them so optics-obsessed they masturbate to their own reflections.
Even my parents, I was only there to make them look good.
Smile for the camera.
Play along.
Be the mature, smart, kindhearted Blackthorn son I’m not.
One more reason why the summers in Maine are never long enough. Except now Gramps is on my back, trying to get me to join the family business.
Tying me down with his legacy, even if it’s better than anything my parents offer.
Bullshit.
I shrug, rolling my shoulders before I slump down on the warm dock. I idly trail the toe of one shoe through the water until I feel the sting.
“Shit!”
A sliver of wood jams itself up my fingernail and I yank it out, watching as blood wells in a rusty red bead.
Human frailty.
Pain.
Something real.
Isn’t that what I want most?
Even if it means signing up for the US Army. Beside me, the glossy recruitment pamphlets stare up at me, and I pick one up, flicking through it.
Joining up means escaping family hell, all the people determined to decide my destiny for me.
Maybe at boot camp, I’ll get a fucking break from everyone pecking my head for favors and obligations and expectations.
It’s exhausting when everyone looks at you and just sees whatever future they have planned.
They never see me.
Even Gramps, who’s always had my back, keeps trying to shoehorn me into a winter internship I have no interest in.
Pushing paper in his office, working for him, trying to develop an appetite for charming people in suits into giving up property for cheap.
I get it. He’s old, he has a giant legacy with no one else to leave it to, and my parents barely speak to him.
Still, it’s my life, and he’ll be the first to agree I shouldn’t live in anyone’s shadow.
Also, isn’t this like nepotism or some shit?
Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like the life I’m living is even real.
Why does it matter so much what I decide to do? The whole family could throw their money in a bonfire and burn it for heat all winter.
The sun’s almost dipped below the horizon when I hear the slap of flip-flops approaching behind me. I’m expecting Margot, the little brat wanting to bum some extra cash for ice cream, but when I turn around it’s another goddamned nuisance.
Taylor Rollins.
Shit, can’t she take a hint?
And why didn’t Hardass Holden do his job and keep her off the property?
I sigh before she even opens her mouth.
Back in June, when I came here after graduation, we hooked up a few times. I took her out on the mandatory dinners and beach dates that never lasted more than a couple hours before I fucked her and sent her home.
I guess you could call it a summer fling, until I got bored like usual.
It’s August now.
I haven’t seen her since around the Fourth. I almost forgot she existed.
I stare at her, waiting impatiently as she raises her hands to cup her elbows.
I’m so not in the mood.
I’m not sure what made me sleep with her in the first place.
She’s pretty enough, yeah.
A soft round face with that curly brown hair and big amber eyes, but she looks like a spooked colt whenever I look at her. I’m surprised she mustered up the nerve to come chew me out at all, or whatever she’s planning.
“Hey, Ethan,” she says hesitantly.
My glare deepens, a frown pulling at my lips.
The last thing I need right now is drama. I might’ve archived our little fling in my memory, but now it’s all coming back.
The cringe way her family was desperate to encourage the relationship the moment they saw us together. One whiff that we were a couple had her mother showing up at the house, armed with more blueberry pies than Gramps and Holden could ever choke down.
We started giving them to the help so they wouldn’t go to waste.
Like I said, cringe.
She’s still been poking me by text every week or two, but I decided early on I wasn’t into her.
It’s not like I can’t find amazing sex with passable girls anywhere. The last thing I need is some needy Portland girl wanting some stupid distance thing—or worse, begging me to take her back to NYC.
“So you’re not going to talk?” she asks shyly when I don’t respond. “You’ve been ghosting me half the summer after… you know.”
“Yeah, about that… Look, Tay, I think you’ve got the wrong idea.
” I glance back at the ocean, weirdly uncomfortable with the way she’s looking at me.
There’s an intensity in her eyes I don’t like.
I decide to let her down easy. I try. “Thing is, I’m not looking to settle down at this point in my life.
I have a busy time coming up, a lot of shit to sort out once I get home.
This might be my last trip to Portland for a while. Sorry.”
“Ethan, we need to talk.”
Why does her voice sound so strained?
“We really don’t. I just tried to be nice.” I push up to my feet. “I think we’re done here.”
I really don’t have the patience for an ugly scene.
She’s blocking me on the narrow dock, though, wearing a cute little summer dress I peeled off her one hot night a couple months ago.
And those goofy-ass pink flip-flops, one size too big.
I start to walk past her, but she grabs my arm.
“Ethan, wait!” There’s a desperation in her voice that makes me uncomfortable. “Just hear me out. Please.”
Her fingers are digging into my flesh.
I’m not violent, definitely not with women, but fuck, this whole thing makes my skin crawl.
Where is Holden Fuckface? Isn’t it his job to protect this house and keep annoying people away?
Now would be a good time for him to barge in like he always does and escort her away with a few polite, gruff words.
…what am I supposed to do if she won’t leave me alone?
Then I know I’m screwed.
Several big tears start rolling down her cheeks.
Now that I’m looking more closely, I notice she must’ve been crying before she showed up today—her eyes are red-rimmed in a way that doesn’t happen instantly.
Then her face crumples.
“Ethan, I’m… I’m pregnant,” she sobs.
The world stops spinning.
Or maybe I’m the one who stops, so frozen I’m thrown off to the edge of the planet.
Pregnant.
She can’t be pregnant.
No fucking chance.
“You’re not,” I growl in disbelief, but she’s shaking her head, her lips trembling.
“It’s y-yours, Ethan. That’s why I’ve been trying to get in touch with you so much. It’s… it’s your baby.”
“No,” I say weakly.
The one word, the only word I can get out.
“ Yes! Trust me, I checked. I checked three times and—” Her voice chokes off. “I’m definitely pregnant. And you’re the father. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
Shit!
Holy fucking shit this is bad.
“Please,” she whispers, but I don’t have the first clue what she wants.
Money? A ring?
What is she expecting?
I’m just a kid myself with no experience and too much life to figure out. Only, now it’s like my whole future just went up in a cloud of smoke.
This doesn’t happen to Blackthorns.
What the actual fuck am I supposed to do here?
It’s not like she’s my girlfriend.
I’m not remotely ready to be a dad.
Christ, I don’t want to settle down, especially not with this boring chick I used to get off and never expected to see again.
“We used protection. I know we did,” I say weakly.
But I’m not talking to Tay.
I’m trying to reason with the goddamned universe, bargaining to undo reality.
Maybe I’m setting up a cosmic kick in the nuts and I don’t even know it.
“I know. I know. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s—”
“How? Tell me how, Tay.” I swipe an arm through the air, pure frustration boiling out of me.
She shrugs frantically.
“Dunno. Maybe the condom broke? I’m on the pill, too, but maybe—” Her nostrils flare.
I have a terrible feeling I’m supposed to be comforting her or something, but all I can think is that she shouldn’t be having a baby.
I know I damn sure shouldn’t.
She can’t be pregnant and this can’t be happening!
“Ethan.” Her voice breaks around my name and her hand falls, then curls into a fist.
Her nails are chewed down, the color from her last manicure faded.
I never liked her nails much.
Always wanted her to use her mouth instead of her hands on my cock for that reason, because she always went for blinding bright colors and fake extensions that were too long.
None of my thoughts make sense. I feel like she just punched me in the nose and I’m reeling.
This is my fault too.
Because I’m the idiot who fucked her a few too many times, but I can’t bring myself to say any of the right things.
I’m too young. Too dumb. Too shell-shocked.
Be nice. That’s what Margot keeps telling me, and it might go a long way here.
But right now in my moody punkass brain, I don’t have the neural connections for kindness.
Taylor looks up at me, her expression shuttered. She looks like she’s ready to flee all over again.
Maybe I’m glaring or scowling or my jaw’s falling off, I can’t tell.
Everything goes numb.
“I need time,” I bite off, forcing the words out. “To think, to sort this out.”
She takes a step back.
Her flip-flops gently slap the wood.
Whatever she hoped for—a hug, a promise, an answer to how we can possibly unfuck our lives—it isn’t coming.