Page 62

As we walk out the doors of the restaurant, the cool, misty night air blankets my face. I wish I had worn the thicker jacket. Pulling it closed does practically nothing for my cheeks which feel like they’ve been slapped. Carl stops to adjust his coat, then leans in closer.

“How do you feel about grabbing a drink?” He points to a bar just down the street. The yellow and black peeling sign indicative of cracked bar seats and sticky wooden tops.

“I’m not much of a drinker, and I have a packed day tomorrow. I should probably get back home.” As I turn, he grips my wrist.

“Oh, come on. You can’t be that tired.” His fingers trail up my arm. The intimate touch makes me coil internally.

“I am, actually. Those last two glasses of wine did me in. I’m sorry…” I give him a conciliatory smile. “Rain check?”

There’s no mistaking the look of disappointment that crosses his face. He nods and places his hand on my back, guiding me to the car.

“Sure…all right.” He opens the car door, and I step in.

The ride home is filled with awkward silence. The feeling of unease puts me on edge. I’ve never been interested in Carl in any romantic sense. He’s always been just a co-worker who is more like a brother than anything else. This whole thing was a bigger mistake than I thought. I just want to get home and curl up with Gerald.

Ethan crosses my mind, and I pull my phone out to check the notifications. Not a single text. I guess that means I’ll have the joy of dealing with the fallout tomorrow. My stomach drops at the thought. There’s no way he’ll just suddenly ignore me; he’s too determined to ruin my life…and I’ve just pissed him off more. We pull into the driveway, and Carl steps around to my door. He pulls it open and helps me out of the car.

“Thanks for tonight.” I wrap my arms around myself trying to keep warm. It’s a short walk to the door, but the incoming rainstorm sends the wind whipping in every direction, sticking the cold to my skin.

“No, thank you,” he says in an oil-coated voice, which seeps with an unspoken innuendo.

He places his hand on my lower back to guide me up the walkway to the front door, like he did in the parking lot; the touch too intimate for comfort.

I try to create distance between us, but his fingers curl into my side. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but clearly, lines have been blurred. I stop walking and push back from him.

“What are you doing?”

The same predatory look flashes in his eyes. His fingers dig into my side. I push against his chest to create more distance as he invades my space.

“I’ve been really fucking patient with you. I thought we could do this easily…” he says through gritted teeth.

So much for being fucking polite.

I swing my arm over his forearm, landing an elbow-punch on the right side of his jaw. He’s stunned long enough for me to step back and reposition my stance. The sound of my door opening catches my attention, and before I can register what’s happening, a flash of gray crosses my vision.

Carl is splayed on the grass, a shoeless Ethan in a T-shirt and jeans towering over him, delivering blow after blow. Why is he shoeless?

Jesus fucking Christ.

Carl, whose face is now bloody and bruised, tries to fight back but only manages glancing blows instead of full strikes. I should probably stop this before I end up with a dead man on my lawn. As if hearing my thoughts, Ethan holds his bloody fist back, then drops his arm.

Carl struggles to break free of the vise-like hold Ethan has on the front of his shirt as he drags him across the lawn like a rag doll. Ethan gets Carl to the car, lifts him by the lapels of his jacket, then slams him against the driver’s side door with such force the window cracks.

“From this moment, every breath you take is a gift I’ve granted you. If you ever so much as think about threatening her again, they’ll find your body in fucking ribbons.”

Pretty creative, actually.

I can only hope Carl gives up and doesn’t try to say something. I know any restraint Ethan extends right now is purely for my benefit. I just don’t know how far that restraint extends.

Ethan clutches Carl’s lapels in one hand as he opens the driver’s side door and shoves Carl into the car. The window shatters, sending shards of glass through the air as the door slams shut.

Carl slumps over the steering wheel for a moment. As Ethan places himself obnoxiously between me and the car. I have to peer around his strong shoulders to see past him.

Carl backs up, hitting the mailbox as he leaves.

Ethan remains stiff and straight as a board, his chest barely rising and falling with his quick breaths. His whole body is strung so tight. It’s like he’s a bear, immobilized in a trap, fighting with lethal force to break free.

I take his hand and examine the bloody scrapes along his knuckles. He looks at me with a look a hippo might give a bird pecking his back—annoyed and a bit confused.