17. All Of You （Hattie） #3
“The flings never went anywhere.” She shrugs.
“I think he always ghosted the girls or self-sabotaged. It was easy with his looks and his name to leave girls flapping in the breeze. I guess he never wanted to commit or let things get too serious. He’d cut off pretty ruthlessly.
Same crap he still pulls as an adult, I’m sure. ”
“You think?” I hate the way I gasp.
She stops and looks at me.
“I mean, whenever I asked him about it, there was always something ‘wrong’ with the girls, you know? Like, the kind of BS that’s only an excuse.” Margot rolls her eyes. “Too boring, too plain, too skinny, too tanned. I think he complained about a gap in some lady’s teeth once.”
All superficial stuff.
That shouldn’t surprise me, knowing what Ethan was like back then, but for some reason it slams me in the gut.
Surely, he’s grown up, right?
I catch a glimpse of myself in the window.
It’s just a smudge of reflection really, distorted by dusty glass and light, but it makes my thighs look enormous.
Hello, insecurity.
I stiffen, fighting to chase the intrusive thought away.
None of this should matter.
Ethan told me repeatedly he likes me just the way I am.
Why can’t that be enough?
“You don’t need to worry, though, as long as you don’t start taking anything too seriously. Don’t let it go to your head and get attached. Best way to not get burned.” Margot smiles at me.
“I’m sure he’s changed,” I rush out.
Ouch. Too defensive.
She looks at me with a frown wilting in her blue eyes.
“You’re sure, huh? Why would that be?”
Shit, shit, shit.
I look away, pretending to smell a flower—I don’t even know what it is—way too intently.
My face is burning so hot it makes me sneeze.
“Nothing! No reason. I just… I don’t think he’ll continue the same pattern he had when he was eighteen, y’know? That was a long time ago.”
“You’re giving him a lot of credit.” Margot leans in, filling my field of vision. “What is it really, Hattie? Oh no. Is this because you guys are sleeping together? Pleaaase don’t let him get in your head!”
“Absolutely not,” I lie.
She hesitates.
“You seem kinda worked up about him today. Is there another reason?” Margot chews her lip. “Look, I know I said all that, but you’re a special case, you know? Hardly just another fling. He’s not out for a quickie or to break your heart.”
“Nice save.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“I mean it! Fake engaged or not, he never would’ve hooked up with you if he thought you had some terrible flaw he couldn’t deal with.”
“Wow, thanks. You’re making me feel so much better.”
“Well, my brother is a ginormous asshole player. I don’t want you getting hurt, and that means no getting your hopes up,” she says gently. “But he’s not that much of an idiot to leave my bestie in shambles. I hope. ”
“Okay, never mind. Can we drop it?”
“Not a chance. I’d love to know what has you fixated on Ethan’s dating life.” She gives me a long look until I wince. I know she can see right through me because her lips curl into a smile. “You’re sitting on something juicy. What’s the big secret?”
“Nothing!”
“Don’t lie to me, Hattie. Remember how long we’ve been friends? I know when you’re holding out.”
I resist the urge to tell her she’d have never known about us at all if I hadn’t come clean.
The nightmare Ethan shared about Taylor Rollins—he wouldn’t want me to tell Margot in a billion years.
It’s too big. Too devastating. Too unspeakable.
And it also could have broad ramifications for the family if it ever came out.
God, the media alone would crucify him, maximizing misery for every Blackthorn.
If Ethan wanted Margot to know, obviously he would have told her by now. Or at least asked me to tell her.
He didn’t ask me to keep it a secret, but I’m sure that’s implied.
“Spill,” Margot says, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Are you for real? That might work on a date, but it doesn’t work on me,” I say, mentally fumbling for what I can tell her.
Basically nothing.
Her lip juts out in a pout. “I thought we were besties.”
“We are. Don’t be silly.”
“So tell me! What’s going on with him? What did you find out?”
With a sigh, I give in, offering the one little tidbit that seems weird, but harmless.
“We found a letter recently.”
“ We as in you and Ethan?”
“Yep. Remember that fishing boat wreck by the old house?” I briefly explain walking through the old boat and finding that worn letter stuffed in a secret compartment.
She snickers when I mention Ethan’s lighter, but sobers when I explain the letter’s contents.
“So it was written by PopPop? Strange.”
“To your mom, yeah.”
“And it was in the boat all this time? Like before we messed around there as kids?”
“Probably. He found it not far from where you hid the lighter,” I say. “I’m surprised you never noticed.”
“Oh, I was oblivious that young. Pirate fantasies aside, I didn’t think there would be anything to find.” She chews her lip, screwing up her face. “And Ethan took it?”
“Yeah. He’s probably forgotten about it, honestly. It wasn’t a big deal and he has a lot on his plate with that ski lodge deal.”
“What did it say?”
“Not sure. He just skimmed it, but some of the writing was hard to make out. He just read out a few random lines. Something about your mom leaving town and your granddad letting her go? And something about a mistake, maybe? I don’t know. Tons of drama.”
“Secrets, secrets.” Margot’s long pastel-blue nails flash as she pulls out another bunch of flowers, stroking the petals like a pet bird. “I’m glad I love them. My family’s rich and weird, which means we’re full of them.”
At least that gets her off my ass about Ethan’s past. I force a grin and laugh.
“Yeah, I bet. Just don’t get too worked up about it. I don’t think he cares that much since he hasn’t mentioned it again. It’s not like there’s anything earthshaking in there.”
“Probably not. Still, I’ll have to ask him the next time I see him.” Margot flashes a wicked grin. “PopPop took enough mysteries to the grave. I wonder if it’s about the lake house?”
I throw her a puzzled look.
“That cabin he had with my grandma upstate, not too far from Bar Harbor. He didn’t go there much after Grams died. I’ve heard it’s in kinda rough shape. But it hasn’t come up yet and I’m wondering if it has my name on it. I need to talk to Wilkes soon.”
“Could be,” I agree, encouraging her distraction.
“If there’s anything bonkers there, we’re going to find out,” she whispers, a determined look crossing her face. “Trust me to keep digging.”