That’s giving up.
I haven’t completely forgiven Gramps for his lies by omission. And yes, the whole fake marriage scheme was a bridge too far just to set us up.
Butfuck, he’s right about this.
I need to get my life back.
I need to get Hattie back.
Through the window, I see Margot making her way back to the house, the bottle in one hand and the leash in the other.
Her head is down. She looks as crushed as I’ve been feeling these past few days.
I open the door and she looks up. “You read it?”
“Yeah. Watch Ares for a bit, will you?” I eye the bottle in her hands. “I figure you were planning on staying here tonight, anyway.”
“I was, but… what are you going to do?” She tries to catch my arm as I pass, but I dodge her. “Ethan, talk to me. Where are you going?”
“Need to pay a couple people a visit.”
“Whoa, wait, slow down! Stop and think this through.” She runs after me, Ares reluctantly tugging behind her on the leash. “Wait for morning at least? Please don’t do anything stupid.”
Fair request.
Ignoring her, I open the car door and shut it in her face.
“It’ll be okay,” I say from behind the glass, locking the door so she can’t wrench it open. I know my sister.
She stamps her foot and sceams, “It’s the middle of the night, Ethan! What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Exactly what I told you.” I brace one hand on the headrest of the passenger seat and reverse. “I’m going to set this right.”
25
ALL WIRES CROSSED (HATTIE)
Ican’t believe I’m saying this, but I might have too many books.
Boxes are scattered across my living room floor, taped and labeled. Some filled to bursting, many way too heavy for one average girl to lift.
My mistake for buying up a heap of used romance books online plus some fancy new hardback special editions and having them shipped to my place for sorting before they go to the store.
Unfortunately, one average girl is in charge of hauling them right now.
Mom should drop by later to help load them into her more spacious SUV, but right now it’s just me finishing up the packing process.
Fine.
Obviously.
I definitely donotmiss a certain mountain of a man with biceps for days. There’s nothing I want less than for him to turn up with an apology and a lot of muscle.
Sigh.
The acid vat is still my best option.
And yes, I’m aware I deserve better treatment than what Ethan Blackthorn delivered. I have to own it.
