“Why?” My whispered word is muffled behind my hand, and I’m surprised I can even force it out. I’m no longer real. I’m ice. I’m frozen. Trapped someplace harsh and unfair. Someplace where secrets are revealed and nightmares are relived and it never, ever stops no matter how much you think you’ve gotten past it all.
That one word keeps running through my head—why why why why why—and there’s nothing else. Just darkness and betrayal and the haunting pull of my nightmares.
It’s not until I feel Ethan’s hands on my shoulders and hear him saying, “Syl? Dammit, Syl—oh, hell, oh, shit,” that I realize I’ve gone away. And although I don’t want to, I know I have to come back. Because this is Ethan and I love him, and I never wanted him to know how much I suffered. But now he knows, because his words have kicked me under.
Breathe, dammit. Just breathe.
“Syl.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, then leans over so his whole arm can go around me. “It’s okay. It’s okay. And I’m so sorry you went through that, and I’m so sorry it was because of me, and—”
“No.” The word bursts out of me from the dark place, so forcefully that my throat hurts from the effort of it, and I sit up straight. “No, don’t you dare feel guilty. Dammit, Ethan, I didn’t want you to ever know. Why did he tell you? Why would he put that on you?”
“He—he said he didn’t really understand what was happening—”
“Bullshit.”
“He said that now you were being blackmailed. That Jackson told him. Is that true?”
I nod.
“He said I needed to know—”
“No! I never wanted you to know!”
“He said I needed to know in case it came out,” he continues, his voice soothing. “He said it might because it was Reed who took the pictures, and with the murder the police or the press might find out. And if it goes public you’d need me.”
“That’s bullshit,” I say. “He doesn’t care about what I need. He never did. He’s protecting himself. Making sure you learn the truth about the money from him and not from the tabloids.”
“Syl, no. He’s really sorry. He wants—”
“No.” I scream the word then slap my hands over my ears. “I don’t care what he wants.”
Beside me, Ethan sags. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, then pulls me awkwardly to him again. He rocks me gently. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I let him hold me for a few minutes, because I love him and I know that he’s hurting, too. But I need to be alone.
I pull out of his embrace, then blink at him through my tears. “Ethan, I—”
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he says, and I am grateful that at least I do not have to explain that I need him gone.
“I’ll be okay. I just need—I just need to sit here for a bit. Please, Ethan? I’ll be okay.” I’m not actually sure that I will. I’m holding on by a thread, but the last thing that I want is for him to see me snap and fall. “Please,” I repeat.
He looks at me, as if trying to assess how serious I am. Then he nods. “Yeah. Okay.” His voice is soft, and a little too careful. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Yes. Thanks.” And then, because I know that he is hurting, too, I grab for his hand, catching him just as he has pushed open the door. “It wasn’t your fault, Ethan. You know that, right? It wasn’t your fault.”
He looks at me, his eyes full of sadness. “I know. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “We’ll be okay, you and me.”
“Promise?” I can’t bear the thought of losing my brother, and the fact that my father has so blithely risked everything the two of us have built over the years only fuels my anger.
“Cross my heart.”
He slips out quietly, then shuts the door. I watch as he climbs into the car parked next to me, then I tilt my head back and force myself to breathe. My instinct is to call Jackson, but I tell myself not to reach for my phone. I’m still too unsettled from our parting. I want him—god knows I want him—but I need to get my shit together first.
I hug myself and breathe deep, then jump at the sound of an engine firing. I’ve been so lost in my own world that I didn’t realize that Ethan has been sitting in the Toyota beside me all this time.
He turns my way, and his parting smile is both sweet and sad. I smile back, then blink away tears when he blows me a kiss before pulling out of the space. As soon as he disappears from sight I lean back again and focus on breathing. On trying to calm down. To quell this rising fear.
And even as I’m fighting, I think how much has changed. Before, I would be jamming the key into the ignition and driving blindly to someplace like Avalon, with cheap drinks, dim lights, and a pounding beat. I’d be finding a guy. Taking him. Fucking him. But with me in control. Me, proving to myself that I can keep it together. Me, saying fuck you to the world.
And then, goddammit, I’d go to Cass and have her ink that fungible man’s name on my thigh, just one more toss-away man I cared nothing for, who only served to prove that I could keep my shit together. That I wouldn’t lose control. That I could keep the nightmares at bay.
Now, I don’t want to keep control. Now, I want to let go.
Now, I want Jackson.
I want to surrender to him. To let him hold me, to let him help me.
Want, yes. But more than that, I need it.
Need it so badly in fact that it scares me, because how would I get through this without Jackson? How will I manage if I lose him? If he’s behind bars.
I squeeze my eyes shut tight, because I can’t think about that. Not now. Not when I’m so damn raw.
And despite my lecture to myself about waiting until I got my shit together, I grab my phone from my purse. Fuck waiting; right now, I need the man I love.
I am about to dial when the phone vibrates in my hand—Jackson.
“I’m on my way,” he says, the moment the call connects, and it is only when my body sags with relief that I realize just how tense I have been.
Ethan, I think as I clutch the phone tight like a lifeline. Thank god for Ethan.
“Don’t hang up,” I beg. “Stay with me.”
“I’m right by your side, baby,” he says. “I’m always by your side.”
thirteen
“That son of a bitch,” Jackson says as he pulls me from my car and holds me tight. There is a wild tension to his body, as if he is being held together by some invisible force field that is now cracking under the strain of his effort, and the power that he is giving off warms me. But it does not calm me, and my nightmares are still reaching for me out of the shadows that surround our cars.
Nightmares of my father. Of Reed. And of my fear that things have shifted between Jackson and me.
I shift, moving out of his arms.
“Jackson.” His name is tight. A plea. A protest. “Are we okay?”
“Oh, baby.” Something like regret washes across his face, and he presses his palm to my cheek. “I’m not sure if I’m the most selfish man on the planet or the luckiest. But yes, of course we’re fine. How could we be anything else?”
I blink, and as I do, warm tears trickle down my cheeks. “I thought—I wasn’t sure. It felt like we were miles apart.”
“No,” he says as he pulls me close to him again. “Not miles. Not even inches. I’m right here.”
I nod, because he is—thank god he is. But I don’t need to be held. Not tonight. Not now.
I know what I do need—Jackson is the one who taught me. I used to think that to fight my nightmares I had to take control. Had to fuck my way out of danger, taking what I wanted from men and keeping my own emotions at bay. Cool. Controlled. Like a shark trolling waters full of men.