Chapter 9
Maggie’s gaze traced the outline of her midnight-black dress in her bedroom mirror. It was revealing. Probably the most revealing dress she’d worn in her sixteen years.
She touched the low neckline, running her fingertips over the seam.
She felt…beautiful. Something she so rarely felt. Despite Ethan’s reassurance that she was.
Her gaze lowered to her chest. A chest that, according to Lilith, resembled that of a twelve-year-old boy. Then she scanned shoulders that were too broad. Arms that were too skinny.
She shook her head. They were only words. They couldn’t hurt her unless she let them. And she wouldn’t let them, not tonight. It was her two-year anniversary with Ethan, and Lilith wasn’t home—two reasons to celebrate.
They were going to the theater. Casablanca was playing—they always played old movies at the black-and-white theater. But she didn’t care what played; with Ethan beside her, she’d barely be watching the film.
She leaned toward the mirror and slipped some gloss over her lips.
The gloss was a purchase she’d made with the dress yesterday, when she and Polly had snuck to the shops after school.
She’d been hesitant about the dress, but Polly was right, it was perfect.
Cut barely above the knees. Spaghetti straps over the shoulders and a V neck.
What would Lilith have said if she was home tonight? That Maggie looked ridiculous? Would she curl up her lip and make that disgusted face that Maggie knew so well?
Every insult felt like a sledgehammer hitting her body. Sometimes she wondered how many hits she could sustain before the bruises became too much to bear.
She shook her head. Her aunt wasn’t here tonight. It was about her and Ethan.
She capped her gloss and dropped it into her soft leather bag before stepping back.
In a couple short years, she’d get out of here. Become a flight attendant. Travel the world. Experience new places and people and live without a constant voice in her head telling her she wasn’t enough. She could ignore the jabs until then.
A smile curved her lips as she left her room and jogged down the stairs.
She was reaching for the handle of the front door when it opened.
Lilith stepped into the doorway, a deep frown etching her brow. “Maggie. What are you wearing?”
She stiffened. Not because of the question but the way it was posed. The way Lilith looked at her, like she was ugly and broken and ridiculous all at once.
Maggie forced herself to straighten. “A dress. It’s Ethan’s and my anniversary and—”
“You thought you’d leave nothing to the imagination? Jesus Christ, Maggie. You don’t have the figure to pull that off—you know you’re flat as a board, right? And black? Really? Your skin looks like a sheet of paper.”
Maggie flinched. A whole-body flinch that she felt from her head to her toes.
Lilith shook her head as she stepped around her and headed for the stairs, but not before calling over her shoulder, “But it’s your life. Go ahead and embarrass yourself.”
For a moment, Maggie didn’t move. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even feel the hint of tears in her eyes. She just stood there and let the words sink beneath her skin, tangle with every insecurity. Every feeling of being less than.
She fidgeted with the hem of the dress, giving it a little tug, like that could somehow make it longer.
When she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror, she stared.
The person looking back at her wasn’t the same one she’d seen upstairs.
The girl staring back now wasn’t beautiful or confident.
She wasn’t wearing something that made her feel special.
The dress felt wrong. Maybe even as wrong as the rest of her.
A knock on the door had Maggie’s eyes flashing open. She shot into a sitting position, the laptop almost falling off the bed. Casablanca still played, the volume low.
She’d fallen asleep. How had she fallen asleep?
But she knew the answer to that. She hadn’t been sleeping well these last few nights, and her run this afternoon had pulled that last scrap of energy out of her.
Another knock. Her gaze flickered to the door. It had to be Polly.
She scrubbed her face, as if she were trying to scrub away the dream. One thing she hated about being back in Deep River—it dredged up all the bad memories.
Even if she had wanted to talk back to her aunt, she wouldn’t have. She’d had this overwhelming fear of being put into foster care. Of losing Polly and Ethan, the only two people in the world who’d loved her.
A third knock sounded, this one louder. She was surprised Polly wasn’t yelling through the door by now.
“I’m coming.” She closed her laptop and rushed to her feet, almost tripping over the dining table chair on her way to the door. You’d think she’d be better at moving around this small space by now.
She tugged the door open. “Sorry, I—” She stopped, shock dropping her jaw. “Ethan.”
His eyes flared as he took her in.
She glanced down, and yep, she was still wearing the T-shirt and panties she’d thrown on after her shower. And since the world liked to laugh at her, the shirt was white, and she could clearly see her nipples poking through the material. Which meant he could clearly see her nipples poking through.
“Crap.” She slammed the door before racing around her apartment, looking for clean clothes. How was it possible that in a place the size of a thumb, she could still lose things?
She found her old baggy sweatshirt with the Nirvana logo on the front, then pulled on some leggings before opening the door again. He was still there, beautiful green eyes and all.
His hands were shoved into his pockets, his muscles looking big and defined as they stretched the material of his white shirt.
“Sorry, I thought you were Polly.” Her cheeks heated.
“You don’t need to apologize, Mags. You look good in anything.”
She swallowed. His words were in contrast to everything she’d heard from her aunt in her dream.
Her fingers tightened on the door. “What are you doing here?”
“The guys told me what happened with Gerome.” He inched closer, his woodsy scent teasing her nose. “I came to check on you. Can I come in?”
In? He wanted to come into her thumb-size apartment?
She turned her head, scanning the crumpled bedsheets, laptop, and dirty mug on the table. “Um…sure.”
She stepped back, and the second Ethan was in the apartment, it suddenly felt ten times smaller. He took up all the space. It wasn’t thumb-size with him inside—it was a fingertip. Could she even move around the guy? Not without touching him.
“I didn’t know Polly had an apartment over her garage,” Ethan said.
Maggie closed the door. “It came with her house. Her mom stays here sometimes. When they stay in the same house, they clash.”
Ethan’s lips twitched. “So nothing’s changed since high school.”
“Nope. It probably never will. They’re too different.”
He scanned the bed and the ruffled sheets. “Were you asleep?”
“Of course not, it’s not even six. That would be ridiculous.”
Now his lips stretched into a full smile. “Liar.”
“I am not.”
“You have a pillow crease on your cheek.”
Oh man. She rubbed her face. “What are you, a detective?” But her own lips twitched. It took her one step to get from the door to the fridge. “Do you want a drink? I have root beer.”
“You remembered.”
She rolled her eyes. “You drank the stuff by the gallon. I tasted it on your tongue so often that I started to like it.”
She froze, fridge door open. She’d tasted it on his tongue? Why the heck had she gone and said that?
She cleared her throat and pulled out two bottles before handing one to him.
He took it, their fingers grazing. The humor was gone from his eyes, something dark and intense taking its place. “Are you okay?”
No. She was hot and bothered and her tummy kept doing this skittering thing.
Condoms. She had to remember Nel’s condoms. Well, no, actually, that was too vivid for her fragile brain. She only needed to remember that they were dating.
She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. We dated a long time ago.”
“I mean about Gerome.”
Holy Jesus. She was just on a train of embarrassment today. “He didn’t do anything.”
“The guys said he grabbed you.”
“He barely touched me.”
Ethan stepped closer. When he set the root beer onto the table and lifted her wrist, she was pretty sure she stopped breathing. Hell, her heart might have stopped too.
Gently, he pushed up the sleeve on her sweatshirt, and when he growled, she glanced down.
Wow. Gerome had bruised her. She hadn’t realized.
Ethan slid a thumb over the finger-size bruises. “I’m going to kill him.”
Her gaze lifted at the threat of violence in his voice. She’d almost forgotten how protective he could be. Or maybe she’d simply forced herself to not think about it because it was one of the things she’d loved about him. “He’s not worth it.”
“I disagree.”
When he looked at her, his mouth was close. Too close. And the combination of his fingers on her wrist and his breath on her lips made something low and aching stir inside her.
Condoms. Remember the condoms, Maggie.
She shot back, her hip hitting the kitchen counter. His hand dropped and her wrist suddenly felt cold.
But even though she couldn’t kiss him, she didn’t want him to leave either. Not yet. “Sit. Tell me about this new job you and your team are doing.”
She lowered into a seat at the table, and Ethan dropped into the chair opposite. Then they talked. About his job. About the guys. About him leaving the military and the PI work he’d been doing for the last year.
God, he was so easy to talk to. The time apart seemed to vanish like it had never existed.
When she was with him, it almost felt like time stood still and she could get stuck in the moment with him.
He hadn’t just been her boyfriend. He’d been her best friend.
They’d talked about anything and everything.
Then she’d lost him.
“Did you dream?”
She blinked. “What?”
“During your nap. You always used to have the most vivid dreams.”
She swallowed as she glanced at the bed, the old memory stirring up again. “I dreamed about the night we were supposed to celebrate our two-year anniversary.”
He frowned. “I was almost at your aunt’s house when you canceled on me.”
She nodded, gaze lowering to her root beer. “I never told you, but I was ready to go when Lilith came home.”
Ethan leaned forward, voice hardening. “What did she say?”
“Something stupid about my dress and how ridiculous I looked.” She lifted a shoulder. “I shouldn’t have let it affect me the way it did, but I was sixteen and my self-esteem was low. You can only hear someone tell you you’re worthless so many times before you believe it.”
“She hurt you.”
“She changed me.”
Ethan shook his head, real rage on his face. “I hate her.”
“Me too.” She suddenly glanced out the window, noticing how dark it was. “It’s late.”
“So?”
Did Nel mind him staying out so late with his ex? Would he tell her?
That was none of her business.
She rose and moved to the door. “Thank you for checking on me.”
He stood too, and she had to tilt her head to look at him.
“I’d love it if we could be friends.” The words felt strange coming out of her mouth. But the need to have some sort of connection with this man was too strong to ignore.
“We’ve never been friends, Mags.”
“Not true. Once upon a time, you were my best friend.” It had just come with a lot of touching and kissing.
“Friends…” He said the word slowly, like he was trying to wrap his head around the concept. “If that’s what’s on offer, I’ll take it.”
He stepped closer, and when his head lowered, she thought he was going to kiss her.
Blood raced in her veins and her heart thumped at a wild beat.
And he did kiss her, but not on her lips.
His mouth grazed her temple, and for a single second she forgot how to breathe.
She forgot how to move and think. Because his lips were on her.
For the first time in eleven years, she felt completely intoxicated by Ethan.
Then he stepped back. The connection broke. “Good night, Mags. It was really nice to spend the evening with you. Lock up after me.”
Still, after he left, she didn’t move for a little while. She felt stuck.
It wasn’t until he disappeared from view that she closed the door and pressed her forehead to the surface, finally letting it sink in. She was still in love with him. She didn’t know how not to love him.