Chapter 27 #2
“You were just a child,” I protested. The pain in my chest intensified and spread through my body. I began to understand why Ethan had become that person I’d despised for so long. It had been a way of coping—a defence mechanism. He’d been trying to protect himself.
“Yes, but I was his child. In his eyes, that gave him the right to do whatever he wanted to me. After all, I owed him everything. And in return, he wanted me to be his perfect little clone. I already looked just like him.” Ethan sounded distraught, as if his memory of that time was still tearing him apart inside.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said, touching his cheek. The skin that had felt so warm just a moment ago was now ice-cold beneath my fingertips. “And your mum didn’t intervene?”
“She didn’t know. Of course she noticed how strict my dad was with me, but he never laid a hand on me when she was around.
And he made me believe that the only way I’d ever amount to anything was if I took his beatings.
If I didn’t cry, or go running to my mum ‘like a little pussy.’ His words, not mine.
” Ethan gave a sad, bitter laugh. “And I believed him. Despite the beatings and the pain, I wanted to please him. To impress him. And do you want to know what the ridiculous thing is?”
I nodded.
“A part of me still wants that. A few weeks ago, I had afternoon tea with my mum. My dad joined us, and when the pianist took a break, my mum asked me to play something for her and the other guests. I hadn’t played in front of an audience in ages, but I couldn’t refuse her.
And when I was done, even though everyone applauded and my mum praised me, none of it meant anything.
All I wanted was my dad’s approval, which, of course, he didn’t give me.
He’s never given it to me. Nothing I’ve ever done is good enough for him.
Yet I still keep hoping. Just once in my life, I want to be good enough for him. ”
I sat up so I could look properly at Ethan.
The blanket slipped from my shoulders, but his eyes stayed fixed on my face, which told me how serious this conversation was.
“That’s not at all ridiculous. Every child wants their parents’ approval.
Just like every child wants security and comfort.
And your dad gave you none of that. He’s the one who failed, not you. ”
“I know,” Ethan whispered. “But there’s a big gap between what I know and how I feel about it. And I hate that he still has so much control over me. I don’t want that.”
I wished there was something I could do for him, but I doubted kind words would be enough to free him from the prison inside his head.
The only person who had the key to escape was Ethan himself.
He was no longer a child, and Mr. Darlington only had as much power over him as Ethan was willing to give him.
But it wasn’t Ethan’s fault—it was the result of trauma. “How long did it go on?”
“Until I was twelve. The evening before Christmas, I was in a school performance. I completely messed up my piano piece. Afterwards, my dad beat me black and blue for embarrassing him in front of his friends. He told me I was useless and untalented, and said I’d never amount to anything.
I believed him. The next morning, my mum found me crying in my room, covered in bruises, and I told her everything.
She went straight to my dad, and they had a huge fight.
I think it was the first and only argument she ever won against him.
To this day, I don’t know what she said to him, but he never laid a hand on me again after that.
The next summer, he sent me off to Crawley.
I’d become worthless to him; I wasn’t enough anymore. I was never enough for him.”
He swallowed hard. I couldn’t tell if it was just a trick of the light, but I could have sworn I saw tears in his eyes.
I understood now why it mattered so much to him that he be there for his mum.
She’d saved him from that terrible situation back then, so he couldn’t bring himself to leave her in the lurch now.
“Did you ever talk to a therapist about it?”
He shook his head. “No. Once it was over, I just wanted to forget about it. That didn’t work out too well—not until I went to my first party with alcohol when I was fourteen.
I realised being drunk made it easier to block everything out.
And it felt like a way to get back at my dad.
He always wanted a model son, so I became a lazy, unreliable, undisciplined loser instead.
But in trying to become someone my dad hated, I turned into someone I really disliked myself. ”
“Ethan . . .” It was all I could manage to say.
I leant forward until my forehead rested against his, and now I could clearly see that he was holding back tears.
Maybe out of habit or shame. Or maybe because he no longer knew how to accept feelings he’d repressed his entire life—first because his dad had forbidden them, and later because he’d numbed himself.
“You were just trying to protect yourself.”
“Yeah, in a very self-destructive way.”
It broke my heart how disappointed he sounded in himself, even though none of it was his fault. “What made you stop partying?” I asked, lying back down next to him on the bed.
He draped the covers over my body absent-mindedly and pulled me close.
“My mum, but mostly Henry, if I’m honest. I’ve always thought of him as the strongest of us brothers.
Logan ran away at the first opportunity, and I was totally wrecked for years.
But Henry always seemed to manage. He stood up to my dad, kept the hotel going, and even found a way to work with him.
Learning what our dad had driven him to triggered something in me.
I was sick of that bastard ruining our lives, and I wasn’t going to let him or our past destroy mine any longer. ”
I wasn’t sure I had ever admired anyone more than I did Ethan in that moment.
It would have been so much easier for him to keep losing himself in his highs, yet he’d chosen a different path.
A path that showed not just immense strength but also empathy, resilience and greatness.
Real greatness, not the kind a small man like Richard Darlington claimed by trampling over others. “I think you’re wrong.”
Ethan paused. “What about?”
I looked up at him. “Repression hasn’t been your superpower for a while.
If you were still burying all this, you would have kept going like before.
But you didn’t. You quit the parties, the alcohol, and the weed to become the person you really are,” I explained.
“You should be really proud of that. And no matter what your dad made you believe, you are enough. You always have been.”
A single tear escaped from the corner of Ethan’s eye, and my own eyes started to well up. I blinked. I wanted to be strong for him. This conversation wasn’t going to end with him comforting me. Gently, I wiped the stray tear from his cheek, which drew two more to the surface.
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath to hold them back, but the weight of his past was too heavy.
His lips began to tremble and his chin quivered, but he kept fighting.
I could see him trying to swallow down the grief, the pain, the loss of his childhood, as if he couldn’t let go of the beliefs his dad had drilled into him.
Only it wasn’t true. He could. I was there to catch him, just as he’d caught me when I hadn’t known what to do with my pain.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him as tightly as I could. He returned the embrace, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I felt his shaky breath on my skin as he struggled to control himself.
“You can let go,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”
As if Ethan had been waiting for those words, for my permission, the dam burst. He began to cry in my arms. I felt his sobs against my throat, his tears on my skin. It broke my heart, but at the same time, I saw a truth in Ethan’s pain: Even broken things could be beautiful.
I had believed I couldn’t give him my heart because it was too broken, but his was just as shattered.
In a different way, and perhaps even a little more, but I wanted it anyway.
As hard as I had fought against my feelings, I could no longer deny it: I wanted Ethan Darlington to give me his broken, shattered heart so I could repair it and keep it safe for him.