Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sometimes, shock drives you to destinations you never believe you’d visit.
—The Fireside Psychologist
Fate has a way of trying to ruin the best of men. Of tempting them beyond the bounds of propriety.
I know this because in the next few days, I find myself again alone with Fallon in the family waiting room. Part of me wants to lash out at her for not sharing Austyn’s condition and the other part of me knows I have no right. I have no right to know what Austyn didn’t want shared and I have no right to argue that Fallon should have told me.
None.
The problem is, there’s what my head thinks and what my heart feels. One understands and the other thinks she’s guilty as sin for not talking to me.
She’s bleary eyed, looking as if nothing will soothe the pain coursing through her soul. It’s like looking into a mirror because I know exactly what will help her because it’s what will help me.
Just then, she glances in my direction and for the first time since I walked in, I capture and hold her gaze. It’s the first time I’ve really seen her since that day in her dorm room over a year ago. I catalog all the little differences—how her hair has been cut differently, how her hips curve slightly different. There’s no makeup on her naturally dark lashes, framing gorgeous indigo eyes. I wonder if her lip, swollen from repeatedly being chewed on, will look the same if I kiss it. Or would it take a night of my lips on it?
Fucking hell. I turn hard as a rock, even as guilt claws at my insides for the inappropriateness of my reaction to her at a time like this.
The waiting room suddenly feels like the air is being sucked out, leaving nothing but the allure pulsing between us. I clear my throat to break the heavy silence. “Fallon, we should talk.”
Her eyes don’t waver from mine. “About?”
“Us.”
Her bark of laughter, which should hold a peal of amusement, is devoid of that rich emotion. “Us? What us could you be referring to, Uncle E?”
I surge to my feet. Taking the few steps to place myself directly in front of her boot clad feet, I snarl, “I’m not your damn uncle. Let’s get that straight once and for all. You’re…”
“What?”
“Special, Fallon.”
Instead of being intimidated by me, Fallon tips her head back before her lips twist in a sneer. “Actions speak louder than words.”
My eyes narrow now that I’ve revealed a mere portion of what I’m feeling. She mocks, “Ethan, if I’m special, then you can keep your brand of it for the rest of Seven Virtues when—when, not if—you hit on them.”
“What in the fuck are you talking about, Fallon?” My temper flares.
Her eyes are cold. “If you think this is treating me—or any woman—like they’re special, you need to up your game. We’re not in a committed…anything. Thank God. Otherwise, I’d have no problem shoving your balls down your throat so you choked on them when I forced you to swallow them.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Do you remember what you told me and Austyn about social media?”
“What the hell does that have to do with this?” With us? The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I leave them unsaid.
“For someone good at dishing out the advice, you might want to follow it.”
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”
Fallon quirks a brow before she slides her phone from her sweatshirt pocket. After a few quick swipes, she flips the phone around. And there for her to see at Rodeo Ralphs—Kensington’s local dive bar—is picture after picture of me with various women. Then with a flick of her finger, I see others from different nights. Some of them I recall were just sitting nearby me and some who were very much in my space.
None so incriminating as the woman from the other night leaning forward, her body language declaring her intent.
Fuck.
Unfortunately, Fallon’s not quite done with making me feel like a jackass. She offers me advice, “I’d check your six. The latest one—the one whose hand is precariously close to your butt? She’s the recently divorced mother of one who used to torment your niece on a daily basis for not having a father.”
Hearing that makes me defend myself. “I was there for a damn beer.”
“Ah, but they intend to trap you so they can become Mrs. Ethan Kensington. Hope you’re supplying your own condoms.” Her wink would normally disarm me if it wasn’t followed by a blank mask.
I lean over her and get in her face, willing to do anything to bring back the fire. I’ll do anything to keep Fallon with me in this moment. “While we’re on the subject, the first night you texted me?—”
“The night we were drugged?”
“Yes.”
Her brow furrows. “What about it?”
“You alluded to your hangover being worse than a man’s hairy balls.”
Fallon’s stunned. “I did?”
My hand slides up and into her loose bun. I yank her head back. “Yeah, you did.”
She glares up into my face. “What do you care? You’re the man who never noticed I was out of your life for almost six months.”
With that accusation, my control snaps. I bring my face so close to hers, inhaling her every exhale. I let her feel every ripple and shudder as our labored breaths entwined with one another. Long moments pass where we don’t say anything. I vow I’m going to taste her, imprint myself on her when someone bangs up against the door.
I jump back, letting her go.
Fallon clocks my reaction, a sad smile crossing her lips.
The moment between us is lost. Will we ever get it back?
Fallon uncurls herself and lays her hand on my forearm. “Talk to me, Ethan. What is it you want?”
I stutter, the words catching as I creak open the vault that contains my emotions for her. “I’ve been feeling things…”
“Things?”
“Things about you. Things I shouldn’t.”
“Last I checked, I’m a full-fledged adult,” she counters.
“I mean, you’re my niece’s best friend.”
“And?”
“And the feelings I have about you are decidedly not related to my being an ‘uncle.’” I wait for her to get the point.
“I fail to see the problem.”
“I think about you. More than I should.”
Her eyes give way from confusion to anger. “So, in your little fantasies about me, does caring about me come into play or just wanting to fuck me?”
“Damn it, Fallon, you know I care about you,” I roar.
“Ahh,” Fallon mocks. “Ethan Kensington can’t handle the guilt of wanting a younger woman. Got it now. Now I know why I’m a convenience for you.”
My voice is strained. “You are far from a convenience. Every time I’m near you, I…I feel this pull.”
“What a damn hardship that must be for you when you’re screwing your way through every eligible woman back home,” she drawls.
My jaw tightens. “There haven’t been as many as you think, and they’re not you.”
Fallon approaches me with a glint in her eyes. I know the next words out of her mouth are going to piss me the hell off. “Then you’re going to be fine knowing I let men make me come with their fingers.”
My fists clench.
“Mouth.”
I force my arms to relax at my sides. I know she’s deliberately trying to antagonize me and I’m falling right into her trap.
Then she slides her hands to my chest before she hisses, “Before they fuck me with their cocks. That is after I’ve sucked them off…Ethan!”
I whirl her around so her back is to my front. One of my arms is wrapped around her collarbone, the other forces her hips back against mine. With my back to the door, no one can see the position we’re in. My lips graze the patch of skin taunting me at the back of her neck.
She lets out a small moan before her whole body stiffens in realization at what I just did. She struggles to break my grip. “Ethan?”
“What, witch?” I want to spin her around and kiss her. Brand her as mine.
Her voice is riddled with unmasked agony when she forces out, “This isn’t the time or the place for this.”
Slowly, I let her out of my arms, ensuring she can stand. She’s right but there’s a part of me that physically doesn’t want to let her go. Unable to fully release her, I continue to grip her hand, leading her over to the farthest set of hospital chairs from the door. I drop into the seat and drag her in front of me. My head crashes into her stomach. As I suck in deep breaths, absorbing her scent as I do, Fallon lifts her hand to run her fingers through my hair. Finally, I admit, “You’re right.”
A sob escapes. “You’ll get used to saying that. Austyn has.”
A shudder runs through my body thinking the driver could have taken Fallon out just as easily as my niece. Her fingers in my hair soothe my craving to deliver pain, my need to be punished. She just eases the ache inside of me. I lift my head and drown in blue, finally admitting something to us both that I hope she remembers long after we leave this room. “No one is like you, Fallon.”
Her hand trembles as she pushes away a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “What do you want from me, Ethan?”
My hand stills hers. “I want you to be happy, witch.”
She rears back as if I’ve just shoved her out of my life. And maybe for a while, I need to. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”
“I don’t want you to regret what you’re supposed to experience. I want to hear about it. I want to be your best friend, your confidant. Down the line, if…”
“If what?”
“If we find we’re still here…if that leads to more…” I let my words hang heavy in the air between us.
“I don’t understand. Why not now?”
Frustration twists my features as I think of all the obstacles we’d have to overcome to be together while she’s still twenty. “Because now’s not right.”
“That’s not just your decision!” she shouts.
Silence settles between us. Each passing moment where I don’t say anything to reassure her that she’s the one I want. Each moment of silence drives more of a wedge between us instead of demonstrating the desire I feel for her with a relentless force. Finally, I whisper, “I just…I need you to know… to understand…”
“What, Ethan?” When I don’t explain further, she sneers, “Right. Thanks for clarifying.” Fallon turns away, but I whip her back around and bury my face against her stomach.
“Everything in me wants to claim you as mine.” The words come out muffled against her sweatshirt, but by the way she’s no longer fighting to get away from me, she heard them.
The admission hangs between them, heavy and raw, exposing vulnerabilities neither of us is prepared to confront. Outside, the world buzzed with life, oblivious to the silent battle raging within the confines of the hospital waiting room.
Finally, I pull back so she can hear me clearly. “But I lived my life already, Fallon. I don’t want to rob you of yours. You need to be certain. Do you understand?”
She meets my gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them, a fragile connection forged in the midst of chaos, uncertainty, and shared family agony. “I understand,” she whispers.
“Don’t cut me off. God, don’t cut me out of your life again, witch.”
Her fingers drag down my cheek. “I won’t.”
In that moment, as the world outside continued to spin, I found a pocket of solace in a fragile bond, a flare of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded the four walls of this room.