“Don’t say that again. ” For the first time, I hear anger in his voice. “Don’t you fucking say that to me again. ”
“I’m sorry. ” The harshness of his tone gets to me, makes me nervous and has me squirming to get free. For the first time, he hangs on, refusing to let go.
“Jesus! Don’t say that, either. ”
The first lick of anger works its way in past the numbness. “What should I say, then?”
“Anything else. Anything but thank you. Anything but that you’re sorry. ”
I shove away, harder this time, and Ethan gets the message. He gently sets me down next to him on the couch. I don’t want to look at him, don’t want to see the pity and the disgust in his eyes, but he doesn’t give me a choice. His face is just there, in front of me. His gaze direct, relentless, demanding that I meet it.
So I do. It hurts, but I learned long ago that everything hurts. I ignore the pain and do it anyway. “I don’t know what you want to hear. ”
“I want you to tell me the truth. ”
My blood runs cold. It’s been so long since I’ve heard those words, so long since I even let myself think about what the truth really is. “No, you don’t. Nobody does. ”
“I do. ”
I shake my head. I can’t. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. ”
“You start by trusting me. ” Again, I shake my head, but Ethan cuts me off before I can say anything else. “I know that’s asking a lot. I know you’ve been hurt. I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to trust me with this part of you. But I need you to. I need to know what happened to you. And I need you to know that whatever it is, whatever you tell me, isn’t going to change things. ”
“You don’t know that. ”
“I do. ” His voice is as resolute as the look in his eyes. “I promise you, Chloe. I promise you. It doesn’t matter what you say. I’m not going anywhere. ”
I don’t want to believe him. Because if I do, if I lay myself open in front of him and he walks away—or worse, doesn’t believe me—it will destroy me. I’ll fall to so many pieces that this time I won’t even be able to pretend that they fit together.
I’ve been fine in the five years since it happened because I’ve put it away. I’ve shoved all my pain and rage and hate down so deep inside myself that I almost forget it’s there. I survive because I believe the lie. If I do what he asks, if I bring the whole sordid mess back up to the surface, I’m terrified I’ll never be able to shove it back down again.
“Chloe. ”
Though it’s the last thing I want to do, I drag my eyes back up to his. I can’t help it, can’t resist. Not when he says my name in that tone. Not when he looks at me the way he is right now.
“Tell me. ”
And though it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done—harder than facing my mom and dad after it happened, harder even than signing that damn piece of paper that Brandon’s family demanded—I take a deep breath and a leap of faith, and do exactly what Ethan asks of me.
Chapter Nineteen
“I was fifteen. Young and stupid and desperate to make friends. To have a shot at a normal life. We moved around a lot when I was young, never stayed in one place more than a few months. My dad was not exactly what you would call great at keeping a regular job. ” Which is pretty much the understatement of the year, but there’s no need to get into that, too. The story about Brandon is more than enough to spring on Ethan right now.
“We moved to Boston when I was fourteen because there was a job opportunity my dad couldn’t pass up. It wasn’t a great job, at least not at first, so we pretty much lived in this crappy house in this crappy school district where we barely had enough desks, let alone books. It was ridiculous. Not to mention dangerous—there was a lot the school cops and metal detectors didn’t catch.
“I didn’t feel safe, not with the way that some of the guys talked to me or looked at me when I walked by them. Some of them had no problem touching, either, even if they’d never even talked to me. Girls were a commodity in a lot of ways, and guys thought they could treat us however they wanted. The administration had enough trouble keeping the guns out of school and the rival gangs from killing each other. They didn’t have much time or effort left to worry about anything less than actual assault.
/> “I didn’t know what to do, what to say to keep them away from me, and I didn’t have any friends to watch my back. I complained to my dad, but he said to just ignore them. That it wouldn’t be for much longer, just until the money started rolling in.
“But I’d heard that same story a million times through the years, and it never quite worked out the way my parents thought it would. Sure, now they had my brother and his brilliant ideas, but even the best ideas take financial backing. That’s what my dad was working on, or so he said. In the meantime, I was supposed to keep my head down and not cause trouble. I did my best, but there was always some other guy who thought he could slap my ass, brush an arm over my breasts. Who thought he could touch me whether I wanted him to or not. ”
A breeze comes off the ocean and I shiver, though I don’t know if it’s because I’m cold or because of the story I’m telling. Probably a little bit of both. I don’t want to do this. Already I can feel the rage festering inside me—an angry wound just waiting for a chance to poison everything it touches. My new life. The internship. Ethan. Just the thought has me wanting to give up now, before I’ve barely begun.
But there’s Ethan, watching me with his steady, patient eyes. Holding me with his strong, tender hands. How can I not tell him when he so obviously needs me to?
The breeze gets stronger and I start to shiver in earnest now. He doesn’t say a word—probably afraid I’ll take any out to postpone the next few minutes—but he reaches into the outdoor chest that doubles as a coffee table and pulls out a blanket. He carefully wraps it around me, then picks me up and settles me back on his lap.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.