After what feels like forever but is probably no more than four or five minutes, I hear the lock turn, and then the door swings open to reveal a bruised and battered Ethan standing in front of me.
“Oh my God! What happened to you?” All my relationship worries take a backseat to my concern for him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. ”
“You don’t look fine. ” I push my way past him, off the dark porch and into the bright light of the foyer. And nearly have a heart attack when I do. He looks a million times worse illuminated by the chandelier.
His left eye is black, the cheekbone below it cut and swollen. His jaw is bruised, his lip is split, and there are long gouges down his neck, like someone dug their fingernails in and scratched as hard as they could. The blood still looks fresh.
“Baby, you need to get to the hospital, get looked at. You could have a concussion or internal injuries. ”
“I’m fine. ”
“Did you call the police? Did somebody jump you? Where did this happen?”
There’s no emotion in his voice, no inflection at all for me to draw a conclusion from when he says, “In Vegas. ”
“Vegas?” That doesn’t make sense. “I thought you were in New York. ”
“I was. I flew to Vegas this morning because there was someone there I wanted to talk to. ”
“Is he the one who did this to you? Did you at least call the police when you were there?”
The look Ethan shoots me is pure affronted male. “It didn’t seem like a good idea considering he’s in much worse shape than I am. ”
I stare at him incredulously as the truth sinks in. “So this was a fight, not a mugging?”
He doesn’t answer, which—of course—is an answer all on its own. “Ethan! What were you thinking?”
“You should probably go. ”
“Go? Someone needs to check you over and make sure you’re okay. Do you hurt anywhere but your face?” I reach for him, start to lift his shirt up and check his ribs, but he moves away so fast that I’m left grasping at air.
“I’m fine. Just leave, Chloe. ” He turns and walks deeper into the house, leaving me to show myself out. As if that’s really going to happen.
Not knowing what else to do, I follow him down the winding hallway to the kitchen. “Look, Ethan, if you want me to go, I’ll go. I just need to know that you’re really all right. ”
“I’m fine. And I do want you to go. ”
“Okay, then. ” On the inside, I’m freaking out by this point. But I manage to keep my cool as I walk to the fridge, open the freezer door, and rummage until I find a bag of frozen peas. “Here. You should put this on your eye and cheek. It will help with the swelling, so maybe you can actually see out of that eye tomorrow. ”
When he doesn’t take the bag from me, I leave it on the counter next to where he’s standing. “I’ll come check on you in the morning—”
“Don’t. ”
The dread I’ve been feeling all day turns to ice in an instant. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t come back tomorrow. Don’t come back at all. ”
“Seriously?” I say after one long, stunned second. “That’s how you want to play this?”
He shrugs. “I guess so. ”
“That’s not actually good enough. If you want me to walk away from you, you’re going to have to spell it out for me. What’s going on?”
He fixes me with a blank stare that’s so different from the way he usually looks at me that I have trouble reconciling the fact that it’s really him. That this stranger is the same man who held me so tenderly just a few days ago.
“Do I really need to say it, Chloe?” he finally asks.