Chapter 35
Your dad told me what happened.
His arm is broken. I thought you might want to know. I hope you’re OK.
I love you.
Message from Ethan’s mum to Ethan
Ethan
My first thought the next morning was I shoved my dad.
My second was Grace is here.
Even before I opened my eyes, I knew the warm, soft body lying beside me was hers.
I could tell by her sweet scent and how comforted I felt by the mere presence of her.
I’d never been more grateful to have her in my life.
I genuinely didn’t know what I would have done yesterday if she hadn’t shown up.
I probably would have stayed slumped on the bathroom tiles for God knows how long, letting my dark thoughts drag me deeper and deeper .
. . Until I couldn’t bear it any longer and did something I’d regret, like calling the lads and throwing myself straight back into my old life.
Who knew what would have happened then. Best case, I’d have just got completely wasted; worst case, something far more dangerous.
Either way, I would only have felt even worse after a long, drunken night.
Not because of the hangover, but because my dad would, once again, have gained control over my emotions.
But Grace had prevented that from happening, staying with me all of yesterday and last night.
We’d curled up on the sofa together, watching anime and eating food we’d ordered.
It had been nice. For a little while, I’d even managed to forget that I’d shoved my dad.
Grace’s suspicion that he’d broken his arm when he’d fallen over the chair had been confirmed.
My mum had sent me a calm and matter-of-fact message, neither blaming me nor ordering me to apologise.
Probably because she knew he’d deserved it, even if what I’d done hadn’t been right.
I might not have been as bad as my dad—I could see that now, with a little distance and some help from Grace—but pushing him had still been wrong.
After years of putting up with his beatings, I’d sworn never to become violent myself.
I’d got into a few scrapes now and then when I was drunk, but only ever with my equals, like Charles.
Never with someone weaker, like an old man who wouldn’t be able to fight back if I really went for it.
After everything that had happened, I should be glad I’d only shoved my dad.
Still, I didn’t like the fact that he’d driven me to act like him.
“Good morning,” Grace murmured drowsily beside me.
I looked at her. Her eyes weren’t fully open yet. With her face still half buried in the pillow, she gave me a smile. She’d plaited her blond hair, and a few strands had come loose in the night and now fell across her forehead.
“Good morning, Dreamgirl. Sleep well?”
“Like a log.” She snuggled up to me. I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her even closer, and she made a contented sound. “How are you feeling today?” she asked, planting a kiss on my shoulder.
“Better. Sorry I was such a mess yesterday.” Grace rested her chin on my chest so she could look at me.
“Don’t worry about it. You were triggered.
And honestly, it’s a good thing that it hits you so hard when you hurt someone.
It’d be far more worrying if you weren’t bothered,” she said.
She paused briefly, then added, “But it might be a good idea to find yourself a therapist. It seems like there’s still a lot going on under the surface. ”
“I don’t know.” It would have been a lie to claim I’d never thought about it.
Especially over the past few weeks, the idea had crossed my mind more than once.
I’d pushed it aside every time, because I just wanted to forget all that crap.
But now that the memories had resurfaced, it seemed sensible to at least consider therapy.
Not that it was a decision I had to make right now. “Thanks for coming yesterday.”
“Of course. I’m always here for you.”
I liked the way the word always rolled off Grace’s lips, so I leant in to taste it on her tongue.
It was a slow, tender kiss, not driven by haste or desire this time, but by a calmer, softer feeling that flooded my body.
Every part of me was affected by the kiss, by Grace—my heart most of all.
She had it firmly in her grasp, and I didn’t want her to ever let it go.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her onto me. She lay on me like a weighted blanket, grounding me, calming everything inside me that was loud, chaotic, and restless. I could have kissed her for hours, but we were interrupted by a shrill ringing.
Grace pulled away as I reached for my phone to see if the call was worth answering, but the name on the display was enough to put me instantly on high alert.
“Who is it?” Grace asked, noticing my reaction.
I looked at her. “Edgar.”