Chapter 6 #4
“According to her, you don’t date at all.”
Ethan moves his shoulders in a casual gesture. “Maybe.”
“She also says you’ve never brought a girl home.”
“I brought you, didn’t I?” He casts a meaningful glance my way that makes my stomach flutter traitorously.
I give him a long look. “Somehow, I think that was deliberate.”
His grin is faint but unmistakably satisfied. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Natalie.”
It bothers me that his taunting words don’t get the rise out of me they normally do, so I ignore the comment entirely.
Looking out the window, I murmur, “I like Caleb.”
The car jerks suddenly, and I let out a startled sound, gripping the dashboard for support. Ethan is glowering at me with unmistakable displeasure. “Caleb? Why are you mentioning Caleb?”
I shrug, too shaken to formulate a proper response. “Ah?— ”
“Do you prefer blondes, Natalie?” To my utter shock, Ethan sounds both serious and irritated.
“I’ve never—I never gave it much thought. Why?”
He stares at me with intensity that makes my breath catch. “What do you like about Caleb?”
For a moment, I don’t understand his anger. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. “Are you jealous?” The thought is so fascinating and so unexpected that I have a hard time believing it.
“Jealous? Of Caleb?” For the first time, I see the faintest hint of red on Ethan’s face. “No.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mutter under my breath, oddly pleased by his reaction.
“What was that?” he asks sharply.
“Nothing.” I quickly look out the window at the passing cars, wondering why my stomach is in knots. So even Ethan Wilder can look flustered.
I’ve already put my address into his car’s navigation system, and when he pulls into my building’s parking lot, I sigh in relief.
Ethan is out the door before I can even unbuckle my seat belt.
He swiftly opens my car door. It’s such a small gesture, one I never thought mattered before, but each time he opens the door for me, or when he shielded me with his coat when we heard the click of Megan’s camera, it makes me feel something warm and unwelcome inside.
All I want to do is keep this man at arm’s length, but he keeps finding ways around my defenses.
“Thanks.”
He’s already retrieving the paper bag filled with tupperware from the backseat. “I’ll take this inside for you.”
“I can carry it,” I insist, reaching for the bag.
“It’s late, Natalie. I’m not letting you walk all the way to your building by yourself.”
I’m usually home by nine, but it’s midnight. People are still active around here when I normally come home. The empty street feels unnerving, so I acquiesce. “Fine. Just till the entrance.”
The parking lot is a two-minute walk from my building. Usually the residents park in the underground garage, but there’s construction taking place down there, so the building’s management rented this parking lot for us.
I walk quickly, but when we reach my building, I realize that the night security guard isn’t at his post, and the front door stands open. Stiffening, I press my lips together when I see two men leaning by the elevator, smoking and eyeing us with interest.
“On the other hand,” I stammer, “maybe you could walk me to my apartment. If it’s alright with you, of course.”
Ethan observes the two men who are now watching us with obvious attention. “I’d prefer that.”
“Let’s, uh, take the stairs.”
He doesn’t ask questions, just follows my lead without complaint.
The men don’t follow us, thankfully, but I’m still on edge when I insert my key into my apartment’s door a few minutes later. I try to twist it, but it doesn’t budge.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath, wanting desperately to be out of the hallway.
Ethan’s hand covers mine, his voice gentle. “Let me.”
I don’t argue, stepping back to give him room. He unlocks the door and opens it for me with ease.
“Thanks.” I feel like I can breathe again once inside the safety of my home. “You can just put the bag on the kitchen table. Straight through, on the right.”
I switch on the lights and close the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment.
As he heads towards the kitchen, I know it would be easier to just have him leave now, but he looks tired as well, and I don’t know how safe it is for him to be driving when he’s exhausted. Against my better judgment, I ask, “Do you want some coffee?”
He turns to look at me from the doorway of the kitchen, something unreadable in his expression.
“Sure.”
As a matter of habit, I set down my purse and check the answering machine on the side table.
“ You have one new message. ”
I’m reaching for my wallet inside the bag when my mother’s voice fills the room. That familiar voice, filled with distinctive loathing, makes me freeze completely.
“ You went to Hawaii? You little bitch! I told you I needed more money, and you said you had none. But you have enough money to go on a trip? What the hell do you need in Hawaii? You’re such an ungrateful slut of a daughter!
” Her voice is slurred from alcohol, no doubt.
“ What is it? You’ve whored yourself out to all the men in New York and went looking for ? — ”
My blood pounding between my ears, I scramble forward to unplug the machine with shaking hands.
But it’s too late.
Ethan has already heard it.
He’s standing in the kitchen doorway, his expression twisted with something I can’t identify.
Why? Why did he have to be here to hear that? Why did I play the message when I know she’s the only one who calls?
“I—” I can’t breathe properly. “Please, leave.”
I can’t draw in air. I can feel the panic attack drawing closer like a familiar enemy. Of all the people, it had to be him. God, he must be enjoying this—seeing me broken down, humiliated.
“Natalie—” He approaches me, and I turn my head away, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes, or the disgust—or worse, the satisfaction.
“Please, leave . ”
My lungs are trying to draw in oxygen, but they’re failing me. Familiar despair is consuming me like a tide.
“Nat—”
“Go!” I scream, my voice broken and raw, hating myself in this moment, hating him, my mother, everyone.
I hear the door open a second later. Then he’s gone.
Trembling like a leaf, I stumble toward the door, locking and then sinking to the ground against it. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I hold myself the same way I used to do as a child—the only comfort I’ve ever known.
“It’s okay,” I breathe, staring blankly at the hardwood floor. “I’m not a whore. It’s okay. I’m okay. I don’t care what he thinks, what anyone thinks.”
The shocked look on Ethan’s features swims into my memory, and I bury my face in my arms, trying not to cry.
Why couldn’t I have a family like his? Why couldn’t my mother worry about me the way his does?
The tears that spill from my eyes are those of an anguished child and a broken adult.
Why can’t I have somebody love me for once?