Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Saratoga Springs, N.Y. “They say ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.’ Well, it was your choice to play against people better than you.”
—Castor CEO Leanne Miles, when asked by a reporter about winning a new software bid.
It’s been a week and my hatred for Thorn is spiraling along with my desperation to reach Fallon. He had Leanne pull some of her voodoo magic, so every time I try to search for Fallon, even on the open internet, the results are a bunch of Jimmy Fallon and the Roots classroom instrument videos.
No matter how many different ways I search for information to determine why Thorn is so protective and furious , Leanne finds a way to block me on every single one of my devices. The damn hoyden even managed to figure out my move to buy a new laptop and shut me down that way. She’s gotten so nasty that she’s leaving little notes in my dark web inbox to fully express her disdain.
To: “Whiskey”
From: “Q?za”
Subject: Filia
The first time I met her, I knew she was something special. No one goes for the guy who is a lovable geek but can’t drive a Ferrari.
I like her. You’re wrong. Therefore, you pay.
Leanne’s creative side—a side she once shared with her deceased twin—must have been stirred up. Her next reminder of how I fucked up was in the simplest code ever designed—music lyrics.
To: “Whiskey”
From: “Q?za”
Subject: What you inspire others to create
You think you’re a winner, but you’re just a mess
Lost in the details, can’t even guess
You’re playing a game you just can’t win
Messed with her heart, man, you’re too dim, uh uh
Her third message was much more direct.
To: “Whiskey”
From: “Q?za”
Subject: Back OFF!
Stop trying to dig up information about her. You no longer have that right.
Do not make me come after you.
That one, I wrote back to.
To: “Q?za”
From: ”Whiskey”
Subject: Re: Back OFF!
I fucked up. I need to make it right.
Her next email reply was a bunch of laughing emojis followed by:
To: “Whiskey”
From: “Q?za”
Subject: Back OFF!
Wear your body armor. You’re going to need it.
Tossing back a slug of water, and not the whiskey I’ve been sating myself with so I can get some sleep night after night when memories of Fallon bombard me before I sleep, I pull up the text string between us that’s gone on for five years. Since she blocked me, I’ve been re-reading a little at a time trying to figure out if she’s given me any indication on how to get back in her good graces.
Last night I reread the section about how I should have been there myself if I was jealous of my older brother holding her so close at my niece’s birthday party in New York. “You were right, witch.” Right about so many things, but I never told you that, did I?
Berating myself, I scan my apartment above my shop, trying to think if there’s anything I can bring to convince her of what she means to me. Something that will show her how much I’m sorry? Or will words be enough? I’m still wondering if there’s even a possibility of her forgiving me for the shit I spewed?
Then there’s the clawing fear she blanks out on me in the same manner she did that night and turns and leaves.
Cursing the fact the earliest flight I can get to Asheville is tomorrow morning, I’m doing everything I can to be prepared to head out the second the family dinner Paige organized at my father’s house is over and done. I plan on staying at the airport tonight, placing myself one step closer to her. I don’t care if I don’t sleep. All that matters is being on Fallon’s doorstep the minute she opens her eyes.
Until then, I’m rereading our conversations since her graduation at Seven Virtues, in between the times I’d fly out to see her. Each and every one made me recognize how carelessly I destroyed her trust and, more importantly, her love.
Fallon:
What do you want to do to me?
Ethan:
I want to bind your hands above your head. I want your eyes covered with the softest silk.
Fallon:
So you want me helpless?
Ethan:
No. I want you to feel me in ways you’ve never imagined.
Fallon:
You’re making me ache, E
Ethan:
Join the club, Fal. My dick’s so swollen behind my jeans.
Fallon:
Take it out for me…
Fallon:
I want to taste you.
Ethan:
I think that can be arranged, witch.
Fallon:
Every inch of you from the top of your head, behind your neck, down your back. I want to burn you in my memory.
Ethan:
What we’re doing, it’s wrong.
Fallon:
Who is it hurting, Ethan?
Ethan:
You? I don’t want to lead you on, Fal.
Fallon:
Give me some credit, E.
Ethan:
Fallon…
Fallon:
I can hear that scolding tone, E. Are you thinking about spanking me?
Ethan:
Damn you, yes. I want to light up that sweet little ass of yours.
Fallon:
I’m leaning over and lifting up the back of my skirt…
Five years. It’s been five excruciating years since the vivacious blonde who could charm a rattlesnake off a rock it was sunning on captivated me as if I were her next prey. Yet, she had no idea of the hold she had on me until I pointed that out to her. “Fallon, I swear to you, I’ll fix us.”
It’s a promise, a vow.
One I don’t intend on breaking.
After I realized random fucking wasn’t going to take away the ache for the one woman I wanted, I gave up having sex since well before that night I blew up at her for taking that friendly photo with my brother. Instead, I realized no other woman would do.
Hurling my phone away from me so it lands on the couch, I lift the water and down another guzzle . How the hell was I supposed to know what was really going on? That’s easy, you fucktard. You knew her. She’s not the type to expose herself like she does with you to anyone else.
Now my subconscious decides to make an appearance. I fall to my knees in agony because I do know her. I know her drive, her determination, her absolute ethical morality.
You blew it to hell instead of asking her why she was working there. I finally admit the truth to myself because I am terrified of being hurt again.
Thus I come to the crux of my problem—being hurt by women. Being devastated in the wake of their leaving me. More recently, the aftereffects of being lied to amid terrible circumstances I can’t control. And finding out what truly happened to my sister and her husband, even taking the steps to fall for Fallon scared the piss out of me. Then to realize she, too, was lying to me was enough for me to abandon the relationship—and her. Only to find out I was the douchebag because I didn’t give her all of me.
Including my trust. That’s not Fallon’s fault. It’s because that was taken from me long before I became involved with her. Still, she’s paying the price for it.
I cross the room and pick up a framed photograph of my brother and me with our arms wrapped around a beautiful woman, equally enthralled with her as she was with us. We had no way of knowing that just days later, she’d be taken from us.
Our mother, Melissa.
For years, our father told us she’d died as the result of a cut she didn’t treat properly from a fence. It caused an infection they couldn’t administer the proper antibiotics to because she was pregnant with our baby sister, Paige. Apparently, after Paige was safely delivered, they tried to do their best to rescue our mother and failed.
It was a lie.
She was in a brutal car wreck caused by a drunk driver the day before Paige was born. But the lies and betrayals told for close to forty years after almost broke our family apart. I learned from him the truth is as plain as the nose on your face. That most people don’t have honor or integrity, and won’t keep their word.
Those are the life lessons I learned at Tyson Kensington’s knee.
Staring down at the picture of my mother, Jesse, and me, I wonder aloud, “What would you have taught us, Mama? How would you have taught us all to believe in doing the right thing, no matter the cost. To be honorable. To seek out the truth regardless of how hard it cost me personally?” Then I blurt out, “What would you have thought about me and Fallon?”
A wave of shame washes over me when I realize I’ve held this photo a hundred times since Fallon and I became an us, yet I’ve never asked my mother that question. She once accused me of being ashamed of her, but she had it wrong. I’m the one she should be ashamed of, with a father who would have sooner let his family fall apart than admit to his own culpability.
Fallon’s everything with her unending capability to bring out the best in everyone around her—including me. From the moment I met her indigo blue eyes in my rearview mirror, she’s been the one person I haven’t wanted to disappoint, also making her the one person I can’t quite quit. She’s the antidote to superficial relationships and meaningless conversations.
She’s the one person I need in my life.
And I threw her away because of what?
Forcing myself to relive the last few weeks, I go over every piece of evidence. I come to the same conclusion Q?za did—I didn’t piece together the facts. Most importantly, I didn’t factor in the woman I’ve known for the last five years.
I grab my phone, knowing exactly when we had this conversation.
Ethan:
So, are you living it up with every Phi Beta Douchebag there is?
Fallon:
yawn They’re more like Pansy Boring Doormats.
Ethan:
Cold, witch.
Fallon:
Truth, E.
Ethan:
What do you want out of a man then?
Fallon:
You said it.
Ethan:
Want?
Fallon:
A man. I want someone who I can rely upon to build a family with. I want the kind of love that scores my soul.
Ethan:
When you find it tell me.
Fallon:
You think you haven’t seen it? What about your sister?
Ethan:
Fair.
Fallon:
There might be another…
Ethan:
Who?
Fallon:
Lips are sealed.
Ethan:
Keeping secrets, witch? I’ll get it out of you, eventually.
Fallon:
Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.
Fallon:
It boils down to this, E.
Fallon:
I what my mother had. It may not have lasted forever, but what she felt for my father was worth every emotion she buried with him.
Fallon:
What? Nothing to say?
Ethan:
I’m trying to rationalize if that kind of love exists.
Fallon:
That’s your problem.
Ethan:
Problem?
Fallon:
Love isn’t rational. Neither is what you’ll do to keep it.
“Christ, I had the answer the whole fucking time.” My phone drops out of my hands and clatters to the floor, unharmed. I let out a scream of primal rage, my fury at myself so encompassing I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together.
Something’s happened and Fallon’s trying to protect someone she loves. That’s why she took the job at Devil’s Lair. Swooping down, I frantically text Thorn only to receive a bunch of applause emojis in response.
Thorn:
Now, if only you’d thought like this before you made an unmitigated ass of yourself.
Ethan:
Fuck you, Thorn. Tell me what happened.
Fallon wants exactly one thing and it has nothing to do with the gross accusations I flung at her in the parking lot of Devil’s Lair. She wants love. Because of my knee-jerk reaction, I’ve sentenced myself to hell—a life without Fallon in it in any capacity.
Knowing my demands are likely to go unanswered, I try to call my niece. Then, on a Hail Mary attempt, I call my sister. Both of them ignore me—par for the course the last few days. I’m about to call Paige’s husband when I realize the whole family will be here in a matter of hours to celebrate my father’s birthday.
That will be soon enough.
I hope.