Chapter 28 Leni
Leni
Waking up curled next to Ethan, with his strong arms wrapped around me is like a fever dream, one I’m terrified of shattering with my secret.
I know I have to tell him, especially after he said he’ll come with me after graduation, but Dylan’s his son, and I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman he only just met.
There’s no contest when it comes to his own flesh and blood versus great sex, even though that’s not all there is between us.
“I can hear you thinking from here,” Ethan murmurs, his gravelly voice thick with sleep. He presses his lips to my temple, squeezing me tighter.
My thighs clench involuntarily, and I mentally curse myself at how much my body craves the things this man does to it. I still can’t wrap my head around any reason his ex-wife would want to leave him.
“Can I…” I hesitate, wanting to bury myself in his arms and hold on to this moment a little longer.
“Can you what, little devil?” Ethan’s fingers skim up and down my arm, eliciting goosebumps in their wake and causing my brain to short-circuit as I contemplate begging him to bury them deep inside me.
Shaking off the salacious thoughts, I steel my nerves. “Can I read you something I wrote?”
His fingers pause, and I feel him nod. “I’d like that.”
While I reach for the notebook on the bedside table, Ethan shifts until he’s leaning against the headboard.
Notebook in hand, warmth spreads through me when he pulls me between his legs, and I settle back against him, my back resting against his chest. I’m dressed in his t-shirt and my panties, while he’s wearing nothing but his tight black boxers.
A shiver rolls through me when his hands slip under the hem of his shirt to splay over my stomach.
He rests his chin on my shoulder as I flick to the poem I was working on last night.
My biggest fear is that when he hears it, everything from last night, and the plans we spoke about for after graduation, will all shatter like an illusion.
I only hope he doesn’t hate me for keeping this secret from him.
Taking a deep breath, I start to read.
“Memory is a mirror
kept face-down on the floor.
I hide from my reflection—
the invisible bruises of my past,
hidden in old photographs.
The key that should never fit
turns in the lock,
releasing the cacophony
of jumbled chaos.
Pain. Love. Fear.
These walls,
once impenetrable,
begin to crumble.
Fault lines open up like cracks,
shining light on tortured scars.
A kiss, a touch,
a whispered promise.
And still I pretend the walls
don’t breathe his name.
Their name.
An echo of the past
Screaming into the future.”
Ethan is silent when I finish, his heartbeat thumping a steady rhythm against my back.
It’s a stark contrast to my own, which is competing in an Olympic sprint.
The soft murmur of his voice repeating my words as he rereads my poem causes my stomach to clench.
I squeeze my eyes closed, desperately holding back the tears threatening to spill as I wait for him to finish.
“Why do I feel like you’re trying to tell me something?” His voice is steady, though there’s a slight wariness in his tone.
“Because I am,” I whisper, staring at the blur of words through watery eyes.
He tenses around me but doesn’t make any move to pull away, giving me a small spark of hope. “Does this have anything to do with your creative writing piece?”
I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek.
Ethan mutters a curse and tightens his hold on me. “Leni, who did that to you?”
Unable to voice what I think he’s piecing together, I shake my head.
“Leni.” His voice holds a gentle warning.
“Please don’t make me say it,” I beg him.
“Fuck.”
The pain in that single word tears my heart to shreds and the tears fall heavier now.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, trying to squirm out of his embrace.
He doesn’t let me go.
“Dylan did that.”
“Ethan, I’m sorry,” I sob, burying my head in my hands. “Please don’t hate me.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, finally releasing me, but when I scramble off the bed, he follows, grabbing me by the waist and turning me to face him, only I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
“Why would I hate you?” he asks, cupping my cheek and forcing me to look at him. Pain reflects in his whiskey eyes. “Leni, what he did…” He swallows. “This isn’t your fault.”
I shake my head. “I should have told you from the start.”
He winces, but he doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, you should have. Why didn’t you?”
That’s the million-dollar question.
“I was going to. That’s why I came to your house that night.”
He shakes his head. “I never stopped to think how you knew where I live.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “When you told me you were leaving, I didn’t want to hurt you.
But when I tried to walk away… I already felt this connection to you that I’ve never felt with anyone before.
You made me feel safe and seen. My whole life, I’ve put on this persona, trying to be who I think people want me to be, but with you, I don’t feel like I have to do that anymore. ”
“You shouldn’t have to hide who you are.”
“I don’t want to,” I sniff. “But when I wasn’t good enough for even my own father to want to stay…”
Ethan pulls me into his embrace, and I break down, nine years of pent-up emotional trauma pouring out of me. I don’t know how long he holds me for, but my eyes are swollen and puffy when I pull away and swipe at my face.
“I’m sorry I ruined our weekend.”
“Stop apologising. None of this is your fault.”
“I should have told you, but I didn’t want to lose you.” Swallowing, I bring my eyes up to meet his. “I don’t want to lose you, Ethan. What happened, it’s in the past. I don’t want this to come between us.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and drops his head into his hands. “What he did to you is reprehensible.”
“It wasn’t great,” I concede, stepping between his legs and running my fingers through his hair. “But I honestly haven’t thought about what Dylan did to me since that night at your place. You helped me heal.”
He leans forward, resting his head against my stomach. “That doesn’t change the fact that my son took photos of you and shared them around.”
The words make my skin crawl, a reminder of what I’ve spent years trying to forget. It might have been easier if his friends had moved on and left me alone, but Theo Walters is an immature prick who’s still holding out hope of getting his dick wet.
“I know, and I hated him for it.” My voice remains steady despite the emotions thrumming through my body. “I hated myself for so long, but I’m not that girl anymore. You helped me believe I’m worth more than what happened to me.”
Ethan looks up at me with glassy eyes, his jaw clenched tight. “You were just a kid, Leni, and he—” He cuts himself off with a muttered curse.
“He was too.” I kneel in front of him so we’re eye level, resting my palms on his knees.
“I didn’t tell you this for you to blame yourself.
Dylan was eighteen. Old enough to take responsibility for his actions.
I told you because I trust you, and…” I draw in a deep breath before baring my soul to him.
“I’m falling for you, Ethan. This isn’t casual for me, and if I’m honest, it never was.
When you told me last night you would leave Beckford with me, I knew I had to tell you the truth, even if it meant losing you.
I want you to know the truth, but I don’t want you to punish yourself for something you didn’t do. ”
“I raised him,” he says quietly. “I don’t understand how he could do something like this.”
“Dylan made his choices. I don’t blame you.”
“Why didn’t the school contact us?”
“They had no idea. Teenagers are experts at hiding things when they want to.”
“How can you even stand to look at me knowing what he did to you? Christ, Leni, our first interaction involved me watching you get yourself off in a sex club, followed by phone sex. How am I any different from him?”
I rest my forehead against his. “Because I was in control of my body, and I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to.”
He lets out a shaky breath and nods, but the guilt is clear in his eyes. “I don’t know what to do with all of this.”
My chest tightens and I rest back on my heels. The last thing I want to do is cause him any more pain. “Maybe we should go home,” I offer softly.
When he doesn’t say anything, I get to my feet and gather some clothes before heading into the bathroom. By the time I shower and return to the bedroom, he’s already dressed and packed.
Without a word, I follow him out to the car. I’m desperate to ask him where we stand, but his silence speaks louder than words.