24. All I Am （Ethan） #2
If it was anyone but Margot, I might be able to lie to her face.
“No,” I clip.
“No,” she repeats loudly. “That’s my point. And you went and did it anyway. You tried to kick her out during a storm . Fucking hell, Ethan.”
“I left first,” I grind out, dragging a hand over my face.
That doesn’t make it a damn bit better.
Margot keeps glaring with a hellfire I’ve never seen on her face before. Or have I?
For a second, she looks so much like Gramps that it freaks me out.
He’d give plenty of other people that look when they disappointed him or pissed him off—but for me, I only saw it once.
Just once.
The day he peeled me off the floor after Taylor died.
My soul feels bruised.
The past and the present colliding until it’s hard to decipher what’s real. What pain came from which heartbreak in my cosmic joke of a life.
This is why I let her go.
I didn’t have a choice.
I’m no damn good for her, and staring at the mess of bottles I’ve left like some demented raccoon proves that.
“Not my best move, Margot. I’ll admit that. But I didn’t have a choice,” I growl into the silence.
“You always had a choice, Ethan. Everyone does.”
I set my jaw tight.
“My life is a flaming wreck. All I can bring her is trouble, and she doesn’t deserve that.”
To my surprise, Margot rolls her eyes and picks up the nearly empty bottle of bourbon from the floor next to my armchair.
“Right,” she says doubtfully. “Because what you’re doing right now—this—this is totally sorting it out . Hey, maybe if you drink enough, Cooper will just drop his lawsuit and send us a Christmas card!”
“Beating his ass will help. Legally,” I add reluctantly.
“Cut the crap, Big Brother.” She aims one long blue nail at me. “Cooper Daley has nothing to do with your pity parade or the reason you smashed up poor Hattie.”
“I was trying to save her!”
“Oh my God. You still don’t get it.” Still not releasing the bottle, she digs an envelope out of her purse, slapping it down on the table between us. “You’re a moron, Ethan, brother or not. Hattie never needed you to save her from you.”
Before I can answer, she nods at the letter.
“Read it. If I can’t convince you to get your life together, maybe this will. Or maybe it’ll just send you into another conniption fit, who knows.” She throws me another disgusted look.
I see my name printed on top in perfectly neat handwriting I don’t recognize.
Margot takes a swig from the half-depleted bottle as she goes to find Ares’ leash. The screen door shuts behind her a minute later.
I’m all alone, a human volcano.
I want to go after Daley, but Margot storming in brings back everything I’ve tried to repress for so damn long.
The look on Hattie’s face when I finally left her—because she wouldn’t go. I told her to leave so many times and she still wouldn’t do it.
Fuck.
I slit the letter open, running my finger along the flap and grabbing the two pages inside. One page looks handwritten and the other, the one on top, is printed on expensive legal paper.
A quick, professional note from Jackie Wilkes authorizing the early release of a final letter from Gramps that was originally supposed to show up on my fifth month of marriage.
Shit.
For an entire minute, I don’t move, afraid to see whatever new scheme or lie he’s concocted.
If I tear it up right now, I’ll never have to know.
Even in death, the old man won’t fucking leave me alone.
But curiosity has me in a chokehold.
I toss Jackie’s letter aside and turn to Gramps’ note.
It’s not long, just half a page, but the sight of his spidery handwriting sends a bolt of nostalgia through me.
How am I supposed to hate a man I miss like a father?
Everything feels tangled and gnarled. So many wires and circuits crossed I want to rip the letter into a hundred scraps and cast it to the winds, along with all these feelings.
Instead, I sit my ass back down in the armchair and start reading.
Dear Ethan ,
By now you’re probably madly in love. I sincerely hope you are. If you’re not, give it time.
I’ve watched you and Hattie over the years. I know how good the two of you could be together if you only gave it a chance. If you only moved past everything that happened when you were young.
I knew it. I fucking knew he was setting me up for another guilt trip.
My hands shake as I clench the letter, forcing myself to finish.
There’s a lot I never told you .
I made so many mistakes with your mother. She’s never been able to forgive them, and frankly, I don’t deserve it.
I see that now. I’ve made peace after a lifetime of denial.
But this isn’t about my past errors. You deserve to know why I’ve saddled you with a marriage neither of you asked for, and why I insisted on setting up this grand facade.
I know what it’s like to beat yourself up forever. I saw you trapped in that pit after Taylor. The grief, the responsibility you felt over her demise—even though it wasn’t your fault.
Now, don’t worry.
Your secret will follow me to the grave—it already has, if you’re reading this. However, I couldn’t let you stay in that abyss with no way to climb out.
Not without doing my utmost to drop you a ladder.
I knew I couldn’t fix this alone, Ethan.
But I knew someone who could.
Someone we trust. Someone tender. Someone who believes in adventures and secrets and second chances. Someone who cherishes love as much as long evenings stuck in a book.
In time, perhaps you’ll come to see what I did, if you haven’t already.
Open your eyes and look hard.
She can dispel your darkness. Margot already loves her like family.
She who can weather your stormiest attitude—she had plenty of practice every summer she spent with us.
Oh, hell.
My chest is imploding. I pinch the letter until the paper bends, so close to ripping, but I can’t bring myself to relax my hand.
Once, I refused to accept your father and my ego cost me dearly. Back then, I thought your mother could do better. But all that pain proved it was never money or prestige that matters in the end.
It’s having the right person to balance the scales, and your heart.
For Evie, her other half was always Scott.
I see that now.
For you, your half must be Harriet Sage. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, and if you just give her a fair shake, I believe you’ll see it, too.
As Hattie knows, fairy tales are made, not told.
And if you can open your heart enough to pry clear your eyes, young man, you’ll see it too. Then you’ll hold on tight and keep her .
All my love,
Gramps
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I throw the letter down and spring back up, pacing the floor.
I am a self-propelled wreck.
If Margot was in the room, I know she’d agree with Gramps, but—
But goddammit, he’s right.
My last chance—my only chance—to unfuck my future was always Pages.
My light, my love, the one woman who slays problems with a sassy smile or pins me in place with another godawful joke.
Even when she’s just reading a book, my world glows brighter.
Hattie’s the only person who makes me feel alive since Taylor drove herself off that cliff.
Not because I ever loved Taylor, no, but because that was the last time I felt like I deserved to look forward to tomorrow.
With Hattie, I don’t have to hide.
She knows about Taylor’s accident and she didn’t go running.
She looked at me like she knew my hurt.
Like we shared the pain and fuck , my eyes are burning.
I can’t remember the last time I cried.
Not since Taylor. Not since everything went to shit.
Even when Gramps died, I didn’t break, even if I was damn close at times. Margot was the weepy mess, and I was the one who held her like a rock, smothering my own emotions.
I can’t anymore.
Hattie burns me alive, even if Gramps is the spark.
She undid every coping mechanism, knocked down years of fortified walls, and now I’m here, cursed with knowing how bad I derailed destiny.
I pace around unevenly, my furious red-eyed reflection in the window mocking me.
Why am I still here?
I told Hattie I wanted to fight, but that’s not what I’ve been doing.
Not when I’ve been screwing off, playing hideout while my legacy and my woman go up in smoke.
That isn’t fighting .
That’s giving up.
I haven’t completely forgiven Gramps for his lies by omission. And yes, the whole fake marriage scheme was a bridge too far just to set us up.
But fuck , he’s right about this.
I need to get my life back.
I need to get Hattie back.
Through the window, I see Margot making her way back to the house, the bottle in one hand and the leash in the other.
Her head is down. She looks as crushed as I’ve been feeling these past few days.
I open the door and she looks up. “You read it?”
“Yeah. Watch Ares for a bit, will you?” I eye the bottle in her hands. “I figure you were planning on staying here tonight, anyway.”
“I was, but… what are you going to do?” She tries to catch my arm as I pass, but I dodge her. “Ethan, talk to me. Where are you going?”
“Need to pay a couple people a visit.”
“Whoa, wait, slow down! Stop and think this through.” She runs after me, Ares reluctantly tugging behind her on the leash. “Wait for morning at least? Please don’t do anything stupid.”
Fair request.
Ignoring her, I open the car door and shut it in her face.
“It’ll be okay,” I say from behind the glass, locking the door so she can’t wrench it open. I know my sister.
She stamps her foot and sceams, “It’s the middle of the night, Ethan! What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Exactly what I told you.” I brace one hand on the headrest of the passenger seat and reverse. “I’m going to set this right.”