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We’ve been friends for so long, for so long he’s been the only other person who cares about me.
“You blamed me for your loss,” I say and stir the straw in my coke around. “You not only pushed me, you forced a kiss on me and said I owe you.”
Ethan winces as if I just slapped him or something and says softly, “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
I sigh, lean back, and cross my arms over my chest. “Do you think I owe you? Have you thought that all this time?” I take a deep breath and can’t even look at him as I ask, “Do you want me to repay you for Grandma’s funeral?”
I don’t have the money, but I’d figure out how to get the money somehow. We’d have to work out an installment plan or something.
“No, Avery, fuck no,” Ethan curses.
I almost sigh in relief. Who am I kidding? I’m barely scraping by as it is.
“You don’t owe me anything. If anything, I owe you.”
I frown and shake my head at Ethan. “You don’t owe me.” I’ve never been able to do anything financial for him.
Ethan nods, “I do owe you. I owe you because I’m a fucking asshole. I feel disgusted by what I did to you. It’s like a nightmare I just want to forget. I’m not that man. I’m not a scumbag that hurts women.”
Ethan pauses to take a deep breath and says with such sadness. “I don’t want to be a fucking monster.”
I sigh. This is not how I expected this to go at all. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
Ethan and I have so much history, so much good history, and to have it end over what he did is just sad. Watching him verbally beat himself up, hearing him call himself a monster jus
t strikes a chord with me.
“You’re not a monster,” I tell him. Then I think very, very carefully about my next words. “But you have changed. I don’t feel like I know who you are anymore. I’m not sure I like the person you are now.”
Ethan nods and rubs his hand down his face. “It’s all this fighting. I’ve let all this shit go to my head.”
The waitress reappears and we’re quiet as she sets our plates down. My stomach growls, and though I’m in no mood to eat, I can’t help but reach out and snag a french fry.
With reflexes like a damn cat, Ethan reaches out and captures my hand. The french fry drops to the plate. My heart feels like it’s frozen mid-beat.
Ethan looks at me, his baby blues pleading. “Do you think we can fix this?”
His face falls as I respond softly, honestly, “I don’t know.”
“Let me make it up to you, Avery,” he pleads, squeezing my hand. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head and resist the urge to pry my fingers from his grip. “You don’t have to make it up to me. But I do think you should probably look into some anger management classes, for yourself.”
Ethan nods. “I’ve already booked an appointment with a counselor.”
I’m a little surprised, and a little impressed. Maybe he honestly wants to work on himself.
I smile at him. “That sounds like a great start.”
He squeezes my hand again and let’s it go. I pick up my french fry and pop it in my mouth.
“How’s your head feel?” Ethan asks and picks up his burger.
“It’s much better now,” I answer and shove another french fry in my mouth. Now that I’ve had one I want them all.
“Did you see a doctor?” Ethan asks and takes a bite out of his burger.
I nod my head. “The one at the arena said I was good to go.”
