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I nodded back at him. “Can you give us a few minutes, please?” I watched as Niall headed back into the building to leave us to talk.
I stood in front of Ethan as the rain poured down, his drenched T-shirt revealing his muscles and reflecting off the moon now high in the sky. His eyes were intense, and he was soaked. It looked as though he’d been standing outside of Ella’s flat for a while waiting.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing his arm and leading us back to where we’d come from. I’d noticed a small bakery a few streets down and chatting there made much more sense than enduring the rain.
Inside, we settled into a cozy corner on a couch, and a friendly server came over for our coffee order. When she left, I turned back to Ethan, feeling the intensity of his gaze on my now rain-soaked body.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated my earlier question, which had remained unanswered.
“I came with Ryan. He said Ella invited him to stop by before returning to the States,” he said, unwilling to disclose more.
Running my hands through my wet hair, I pressed, “I figured that much, but why are you here?”
Ethan sighed, his eyes shifting between me and the rain outside. “You left,” he spoke darkly. “Without even saying goodbye. Is this something you do?” he questioned, echoing my words from the night at the cottage.
“Is what something I do?” I retorted, mirroring his response, and crossing my arms across my chest.
“Travel around the world like a tsunami, pulling men into the stormy abyss of your essence only to disappear, leaving a wake of heartbreaks behind you?” he asked.
I swallowed hard. His response was remarkably precise, and sadly, he had accurately assessed my situation a little too well. The difference was, none of my other international one-night stands had hopped on a plane to actively seek me out after I left. And truthfully, I hadn’t wanted any of them to until I’d met Ethan. But I knew this was a dangerous game to play, admitting feelings for someone who was supposed to be a temporary stop along my journey.
“Ethan...” my voice trailed off. “I’m a little fucked up right now.”
He stared back at me with the same look he’d given me last night at the pub, as if he were trying to understand me but couldn’t.
“Aren’t we all?”
I sighed. “I think it’s time you heard my fucked-up story."
His eyebrows lifted in curiosity as he leaned forward, listening to me intently.
“I was only 15 years old when the safe world I knew crumbled. I’d grown up in a upper-class family and hadn’t even realized the privilege and wealth I’d been born into. One day I was getting ready to go into my sophomore year of high school and the next, I was finding out that my dad had been lying to my mom and I for years. He had been an extraordinarily successful financial advisor for his entire adulthood and got twisted up in a major scheme to steal money from clients, including my mom. When the FBI unraveled the scheme, my dad was sent to prison for thirty years which left my mom and I drowning in debts linked to my dad’s deceit.
“The weight of his consequences bore down on my shoulders forcing me to mature faster than my age. At 16, I got my first job so that I could begin contributing to the share of bills that my mother and I had amassed. I’d waitress in the evenings after school instead of playing sports like my friends and my social life disappeared. Unfortunately, desperation compelled my mom during that time, and she sought comfort in the arms of a new partner she’d met at work, someone who seemed like they could offer us some financial relief.
“Mark was wealthy and entered our lives my junior year of high school. His finances provided us with security and allowed us to escape the looming threat of homelessness. Initially, it was a relief. However shortly after they got married, that relief turned into something more disturbing. Things... changed.” I cleared my throat, hesitating, “He started... abusing me,” I began, my gaze dropping to the floor.
Ethan’s eyes widened with concern, and I continued, my voice shaky but determined to get through. “I didn’t tell my mom. I was terrified we’d lose everything – her house, money, our stability. So, I kept it all to myself.”
I paused, recalling the painful memories. “One day, my mom started getting suspicious. She noticed the marks on my body, how I was acting differently – dressing more conservatively, speaking less. She confronted me, asked me what was going on.”
My voice quivered as I confessed, “I lied to her, Ethan. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. The fear of losing everything paralyzed me, and I convinced myself that I could endure it. I moved out three months later, went to college a year early, at just 17 years old, just to escape the abuse.”
Our eyes met, as he nodded slowly in understanding.
“I’d wondered for months whether my mom knew what was going on but maybe out of her own self-preservation, and a fear of losing everything again, she turned a blind eye to what he was doing. However, a few months after I left for college, my mom initiated a divorce from Mark.
“When I asked her why, she told me that he’d become abusive to her, too. I should’ve told her the truth when she first asked, maybe spared her the pain I put her through, but I didn’t, and it’s haunted me to this day that I didn’t protect her. I’m an only child and growing up my mom was my best friend. She still is today.
“After the divorce, I got a call one night that an ambulance had been called to my mom’s house. She’d overdosed on sleeping pills. Thankfully, she survived but I’d almost lost the only family I had left."
The room fell into a heavy silence as I awaited Ethan’s response, the vulnerability of my revelation hanging in the air.
I sighed deeply.
“The effect of my dad’s actions, and my stepfathers abuse, shaped my perspective on men. They were, the first important and influential men in my life, shaping my early and late childhood years. When you're a teenager, you're extremely impressionable and only care about being liked. I wanted these men in power over me to like and care for me, because frankly, they should have. I’ve spent much of my adulthood trying to unlearn the terrible things they unintentionally taught me about men and oftentimes I find that I’m failing at that.
“Unfortunately, I let my guard slip when I started dating Colton, my ex-boyfriend. Six months in, things were going well, he was a successful professional working in consulting, we had chemistry, and he treated me right, or so I thought. Until one night I joined a Facebook group called ‘Are we dating the same guy?’ It was out of morbid curiosity and a friend’s suggestion, but when the admin approved my request, the first post I saw was a picture of Colton.
