Chapter 11 – Amanda
Chapter Eleven
Amanda
Ethan paces our bedroom with frustration that I know I can’t fix.
You really can’t fix men, by the way, and it doesn’t take becoming a therapist to recognize that.
His emotions have been under much better control the longer he spends away from gambling, but there is still something so profoundly male in the way Ethan’s own feelings confuse and overwhelm him.
Instead of getting to the root, he starts at, “This shit pisses me off,” and stays there for a generous amount of time.
Unfortunately, this episode with Isaac Sinclair has been ill-timed for all of us.
With all my new clients and establishing the new practice, I worry about my sleep schedule.
Nobody wants their therapist nodding off during a session. Embarrassing.
I get out my hair products and set them on a small towel while I sit on the edge of my bed to part and twist my hair while Ethan processes his emotions.
I used my own skills as a therapist to get to the point where I realized, I have to be doing something with my hands to not let Ethan frustrate me.
He pushes hair out of his face and stops his pacing as I part the bottom piece of my hair so I can further separate and twist. Ethan looks over at me.
“I’m stressing you out.”
“No. Why would you think that? We’re only babysitting a biker with a psychotic wife, and his new boo. Do you think Tylee knows about her?”
“Isaac has no fucking clue what he’s doing,” Ethan grunts. The two of us can at least agree with that much.
“What about the woman? Does she want to be with him?”
Ethan gives me a look that I can easily interpret, but I play stupid.
These bikers really do think that they can throw whoever they want on the back of their motorcycles and avoid the consequences.
It might have worked out between me and Ethan, maybe a few of the other bikers, but these men have to find a new mating strategy.
“She witnessed a crime. She’s staying here tonight.”
I can’t imagine what this poor woman is going through.
My husband doesn’t have to give me all the details for me to guess what most likely happened.
Professionally, I can’t give my opinion, but personally?
I’m sure the bikers got into a fight that spiraled out of control and another bystander got caught up in their personal issues.
“Should I go down and talk to her?”
I finish one length twist, wipe some hair product off on the towel and move on to the other one. Ethan responds gruffly, “Absolutely not. I want you far out of this club business. Tylee is a maniac.”
How does this connect to Tylee again? I’m trying my best to keep track of everything going on with them, but I’m more focused on my business and my child than anything else going on.
It’s been hard for everyone with politics and rising anxieties about the direction of our country.
I feel guilty about the fact that my business has been booming sometimes, but it’s kept my mind off of most things.
“Right. And who does Tylee want?” I remind Ethan, as if he needs reminding.
If he’s more worried about Tylee finding Isaac than this crime situation, I question whether we should have Isaac or his new girlfriend under our roof.
Is Tylee really more of a concern than the police or other gang members?
These days, the police and gang members have been working together, and our neighborhood wouldn’t feel safe if I wasn’t married to a crazy asshole like Ethan.
“Tylee wants Isaac,” Ethan finally admits after taking a minute to consider everything I’ve been saying.
Both Wyatt and Ethan refused to take me seriously when I promised them that Tylee wouldn’t simply accept Isaac laying low.
I’ve done over four thousand hours of work to get my licenses and I’ve seen all types of families from all walks of life.
You can predict some people like the weather, and women like Tylee unfortunately have a certain M.O.
I never thought she would let Isaac walk away – not if she was willing to go as far as to snatch his kids up from him. Luckily, even if Wyatt and my husband wouldn’t listen to me at first, I have other allies in the club.
“I know,” Ethan mutters, as if responding to something I said. I do use that therapist’s trick of waiting for people to fill the silence.
“She wants Isaac dead. She won’t enjoy the fact that he’s seeing somebody else but… I’m doing what Wyatt wants.”
“What do you want?” I ask my husband, moving from one twist to the other one. I’m almost done with the lower row of twists, and I might finish getting my whole head twisted up before bed-time.
“I want to put Tylee in a metal box and shake her very hard.”
I can’t fault him for being honest when I’m the one who asked the question, but this isn’t exactly the productive solution I expected him to come up with.
“Anything else?” I ask calmly.
Ethan touches his face and scowls. “Maybe I should track her down first… before she gets to Isaac.”
“Do you have any idea where she is?”
He looks like he’s thinking deeply. Hopefully there’s a part of him realizing that I was right about Tylee.
Ultimately, I worry more about the kids than about whatever happens between her and Isaac.
I just also happen to respect my husband’s wishes for me to not get involved. Like I said, I have plenty going on.
“No idea where she is.”
“Or how to find her?”
“I might be able to get her to talk to me if I play my cards right.”
This is a first. Ethan has never before indicated he had alternative methods of getting Tylee to reach out.
“What does that mean?”
He pauses for a good minute to think. “I could tell her I hit rock bottom. I’m at a casino. And I need her.”
This is huge. Ethan hasn’t mentioned gambling for months because it hasn’t been a part of his life. He spends his time working, parenting, and being there for me. Work gives him enough stimulation these days that I don’t think he needs to gamble.
“Do you really think that would work on her?” I ask him.
Ethan considers. Tylee’s unpredictable and we both know it.
I might have had a chance at intervening early, but now that she’s first kidnapped their kids, next seemingly left them somewhere, and now she’s heading East with some dangerous biker…
Ethan’s plan actually sounds pretty good.
“My sister has a heart. Somewhere down there.”
“She loves her kids,” I tell him. “I know that. She’s also close with Anna, Juliette, and Vickie. I think she has a good heart deep down but whatever happened between her and Isaac… maybe it pushed her to a breaking point.”
“She lost her way when she drugged Damara.”
“Okay, arguably some time before that.”
“I’ve never told you this,” Ethan says, “But she cheated on him.”
That surprises me. Isaac doesn’t seem like the type of man to forgive that kind of thing.
It’s not like I know him very well, but from what I’ve seen, he seems like he would take it to heart.
Ethan hasn’t stopped complaining about Isaac’s depression since he got here. It sounds like the man misses his kids.
“When did Tylee cheat on him?”
Ethan scoffs, “The times he knows about?”
My face must say it all.
“She’s family. I would never make any trouble between her and her husband, but I have no illusions about my sister. Just because she doesn’t get into bar fights doesn’t mean she lacks the same mean streak as the rest of us.”
“Will calling her work?”
“It might. Wyatt doesn’t approve.”
“You’re still going to do it.” I’m saying it out loud because I know my husband. He’s already made up his mind.
“Tylee won’t expect me to go against him, and she can read all of us like a book.”
“What do you need from me?”
Ethan stops scowling. I feel warmth coming from him as he looks at me.
“I need nothing from you,” he says. “You are the perfect wife. When I come home and have you perched on the edge of my bed, I know that I’ve won the ultimate jackpot.”
“Ethan…”
He vocalizes his feelings sometimes so well that it stuns me. Did I bring this out of a gruff, bearded grump like Ethan? Then it hits me.
“... Are you just saying that so I agree to have sex with you?”
His cheeks darken. “No.”
I’ve caught him, haven’t I?
“Are you sure?”
“No…”
“Ethan!”
“Will you do it if I confess?”
“If you help me finish my hair… maybe we can cuddle.”
Ethan sits next to me on the bed and pushes hair out of my face to kiss my cheek.
“I was waiting for you to ask,” he whispers. “I love twisting your hair.”