Chapter 59 Ethan
ETHAN
“Were you two just kissing?” my father asks incredulously with disgust, as he stands frozen in the doorway of my office.
“Is this the part where I get my shovel?” Dane whispers and somehow I manage to hide my amusement as I side-eye my father.
He’s more frazzled than I expected him to be. His hair is unusually unkempt, his tie is crooked, and there’s a mustard stain on his shirt. He’s got a white knuckle grip on his phone and I imagine it’s my resignation letter on the screen behind it.
I wasn’t prepared to have this conversation face-to-face, especially with Dane here, but I suppose I should have expected it.
Nothing about what has happened since the accident has been in my favor.
The healing process, physically and emotionally, losing everything baseball related and relearning how to communicate with Hannah.
It was all so debilitating. Working for my father was the only option and, at least, it finally got him off my back.
“Is the only reason you wanted me to work for you purely because it made you look better? Like you were some present, stand-up dad and family man?” I ask, ignoring his previous questions.
His lips curl up into a scowl. He’s always hated when anyone talks back to him and my disobedience is skyrocketing him to another level of fury.
“If it weren’t for me you would have nothing. You would be nothing. I won’t be the father with the deadbeat, no-good son who does nothing but daydreams about playing a silly game with his useless life. I won’t let you embarrass me and run the image of my name into the dirt.”
“So instead of loving and supporting me through the most difficult time in my life, you lied about the medical expenses so I’d have no choice but to work for you. Just so I wouldn’t make you look bad.”
“If I didn’t do what I did, you would already be a washed up baseball player with nothing but his memories of the MLB draft and his days in the pros. Baseball is not a career.”
“It wasn’t your fucking decision!” I scream. Never in my life have I yelled at my father.
“Hiring that driver to hit your car was the best decision I ever made for you.” I flinch, as if his words are bricks launched at me with nothing but a paper shield to defend myself.
The room goes eerily silent as his eyes blow wide with his confession.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Dane asks, as he turns his gaze to him.
I’m trembling but stunned solid. It feels as if my soul has catapulted from my body and I’m living outside of myself.
He did that?
My mind speeds through memories of that night.
The lights, the ear-splitting squealing of the rubber on asphalt that I still hear when I close my eyes.
Hannah’s last words, shrieking my name, as I held my hand out over her body in a last attempt to protect her, before the crunch of the metal and the airbags deployed.
A shard of the dashboard panel blew out in some once-in-a-lifetime, rare instance. It cut straight through my hand and into Hannah’s neck.
The doctors said if it weren’t for my hand taking part of the damage, she would have died on impact. My hand—and coincidingly losing my baseball career—saved her life.
I’ve lived with guilt my entire life. Wondering how I could have done things differently. How I could have avoided him. But it was inevitable. All because my father made a decision to make it so.
He couldn’t control me or my decisions so he eliminated it the only way he knew how.
The structure and routine I have to have in my life, I know I get from him. The need to have a schedule and always be in control. I always viewed that as a good quality, but now I hate it. I hate that I’m rigid like him. I don’t want to be anything like him.
I splay open my palm, the skin still tight and tender from the scar as I appraise my hand.
I have no regrets. I never have. But I can’t say I’ll be able to stop myself from killing my father right now.
“You don’t see it now, but I saved you from a life of misery, son. A life of chasing a dream that most never achieve. They end up as drug addicts and homeless, sitting around a bonfire under a freeway talking about their glory days. That would have been you.”
I clench my fist and step toward him.
Dane steps in front of me, blocking my view of my father and my anger gets the best of me.
As if it has a mind of its own, my arm cannons forward, my scarred hand cupping around his neck as I slam him against the wall.
“You touch him, you know what he’ll do.” His voice is hoarse from my grip.
“I’m not going to touch him, I’m going to kill him.” My chest heaves and my breath is shaking. “He did this. He fucking did this! And Hannah…” I grind my teeth together, squeezing my hand tighter.
Years. For years my father has manipulated me, guilt tripped me, blackmailed me into an unavoidable life in an effort to control my every decision.
He physically hurt me. Hannah. Hurdled me onto a path only he could steer.
All because he cares so fucking much about his image.
Everything is boiling over. I can feel the rage in my bones, all the emotions I’ve pushed down, the wall is finally breaking and the wrath is inevitable.
Dane’s face reddens, the pink flush turns to a deeper shade of red bringing out the blue in his eyes that match Hannah’s, and not just in color, but in the way he appraises me. The way the similar shade of cerulean gives me the comfort I’ve always needed.
He gazes at me without pity, without concern for himself but in pure admiration. Like he accepts every single part of me. The good, the bad, the scarred part of my physical body and soul.
His tight jaw slacks open, sucking in air as I soften my hold.
I lower my hand as my gaze drops to the ground, but he cups my face and he looks deeper into my eyes, pulling me back into the present. He always seems to know exactly what I need, how to get me centered. Just like Hannah.
The realization of how perfect they both are in balancing me out hits me square in the chest and suddenly I want nothing more than to do what’s best for them. For us.
“If you hurt him, you know what that starts, you know what kind of man he is and what he’ll try to do to you. I’m all in, whatever you decide…but think about Hannah.”
I lost everything that night including the power and control over my own life.
All my decisions were forced by my fathers deceit and manipulation.
Finally getting a little bit of that back is wildly dangerous and I can’t help but smile.
It’s wide and mischievous, odd for me considering I hardly ever smile.
Dane looks terrified by this fact. He pushes himself further into the wall, as if it will swallow him whole. But I yank him against me, pressing our bodies together and kiss him like it’s the only thing that’s going to stop me from losing myself in this mess.
It’s all teeth and tongue and I love how he instantly melts into me.
In his past relationships I know he’s been the one to always take the lead and be in control.
But he’s always been mindful of my hesitation and curiosity.
My uncertainty has set the dynamics in the relationship between the three of us and now all I can think about is giving him all of me, however he needs.
“Jesus fucking christ.” My father shifts uncomfortably in his stance, repulsed by our actions and I love how much I’m setting him off.
“I’m done here,” I tell Dane and he smiles back at me, turning back to my dad I give him a smug as hell look and it feels fucking freeing.
I round my desk, grab my bag, then tilt my head to Dane as we head toward the exit.
My father steps forward attempting to block my exit. “Where you do you think you’re—”
Dane takes a large stride toward him, pulling back his fist, slamming it directly into my father's face. His grunt vibrates through the room as he hits the ground with a hard thud.
“You’re lucky he didn’t tell me to get my shovel,” Dane says as he steps over him, then leans down and adds, “Oh, and don’t try anything stupid. My attorney will fucking destroy you.” He palms his face, patting his cheek in the most condescending gesture of dominance.
Fuck, that turns me on.
“Come on, lover,” Dane says cheerfully like he’s been waiting a lifetime to slap that title on me.
I glance down at my father one last time, because after this I’ll never see him again. Not in person and not intentionally at least.
I crouch down next to him. He props himself up on his elbows, blood drips from his nose and over his lips. A piece of lint sits on the corner of his blood spattered tie and I pick it off, flicking it on the floor. “Did you see the files I sent to you?”
His scowl deepens. “Yes.”
“You know what will happen if you ever come near me or Hannah or Dane, right?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, taking in my question with the seriousness it deserves.
“Yes,” he spits through his teeth, hating his words.
“Good.” I stand, wiping myself off as if being so close to him could have rubbed off on me, leaving an invisible layer of filth.
“Oh, and you should know. I love cock. Specifically his.” I point at Dane. “So, when your friends question you after seeing pictures of all of us together, know that not only is he our boyfriend, but tonight I’m going to bottom for him and love every single second of it.”
If I wasn’t dead to him before, I sure am now.
It’s my turn to step over him as I walk out of the prison cell I’ve been living in and the invisible weighted vest I’ve been wearing for the past few years is instantly stripped off.
Even though I have no idea what I’m going to do, I’m met with the sensation of true freedom and an overwhelming amount of relief that I haven’t felt in a long time.
Our strides are quick as we exit down the hall and into the elevator. The moment the doors merge shut, Dane is on me, using his entire body to pin me against the wall.
“I’m so goddamn hard from that.” His erection presses into me as his hips roll over mine.
“I especially liked the part when you said you were going to bottom for me,” he runs his lips against my five o’clock shadow, hovering over my ear, “But, my cock isn’t going anywhere near your sexy ass until you're good and ready and begging me for it.”