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My lips parted open on a gasp as his story settled into me. Damn, he knew what it was like to be betrayed, to be so thoroughly hurt you wanted to do nothing but hurt them back. I knew that kind of pain. Had been working for years to regulate and understand myself better because of the aftereffects of such an event.
“You see why I think you’re incredible?” he asked. “You got hurt and made a career of helping people. I got hurt and building my wealth was birthed from my need for revenge. I bought the Hurricanes because his family owned them.”
Damn. There was more to that story, I could sense that, but he didn’t need me prodding further right now. The harsh set of his features, the rawness in those gray eyes told me that much.
So instead of pushing, I reached out and slid my free hand along his back, unable to stop the motion.
“Fuck her,” I said with all sincerity, a little of the bite coming from my own similar experience.
“Fuck her?” Ethan brightened as he turned to look at me. “Not, I’ll teach you to do better? Be better?”
“Nope, fuck her and fuck him too.”
Ethan laughed, shaking his head. “Why did I assume you’d scold me? Tell me I should’ve been the bigger person?”
“Sometimes being the bigger person is overrated. Besides, you may think your wealth came from revenge, but I bet there’s more to it. And you worked for it, so who am I to say what is and isn’t right to spend your money on?”
Ethan grinned at me, a little mischief sliding over his features. “Are you saying that because you’re a Hurricanes fan?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I teased, the laughter slowly dying out of us as I held his gaze. “But more seriously?” I took a deep breath. “I understand. I know plenty of people probably say that, but I actually do understand that kind of pain. It sucks. It lingers. And I’m sorry.”
“You said your relationship was toxic.” A crease formed between Ethan’s brow as he finished rinsing Sherlock and turned off the shower-head, moving to face me, study me more intently. “But from the look on your face, it was more than the cheating I dealt with. Was he physically abusive or emotionally? Not that either outweighs the other. I just need to know.”
“Both.” I swallowed hard. “At first, I didn’t really consider what he did as physically abusive because he wasn’t outright punching me or backhanding me like you hear horror stories of. It was little things. Bruises from being gripped too hard or...” I stopped, not having the courage to go any further.
My heart thundered with Ethan’s gray eyes on me, like he was peering into places I wasn’t ready for him to see yet. But he’d shared something hard with me, and this was part of the process of gaining trust. I just hated that for some reason, with Ethan, I didn’t want him to look at me and only see my past. See someone who had so terribly, horribly misjudged her ex. Someone who couldn’t spot the red flags right in front of her?
Ethan dried his hands on a towel before reaching up and gliding his fingers along my cheek—both of us pretending like it was a normal thing to do during a session.
“Who?” he asked, his voice rough and low. “Tell me.”
I parted my lips, slightly breathless with how close he’d gotten, how gently he held my face that was such a contrast to the anger in his eyes.
Anger that wasn’t aimed at me, but at my past.
“Abridged version,” I said, sighing. “The one and only man I’ve ever been in love with,” I said, mimicking him. “Like I said, he was abusive in subtle ways I didn’t realize until we were already engaged. And even then, I found ways to explain it away. It wasn’t until he cheated on me that I was able to wake up to what was happening and get out.”
A muscle in Ethan’s jaw ticked. “What’s his name?”
“Why?” I asked, a tease returning to my tone as I tried to backpedal to easier ground. “You going to break a bat over his head?”
Shock flashed in his eyes, and he shifted even closer, his hand still cupping my cheek. “Maybe,” he said, the threat raw in his voice. “Doesn’t that break the rules of why I’m here with you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to, but not out of any sympathy for him.”
“Then for who?”
“You,” I said honestly. “These episodes you have,” I said, my tone soft. “The ones I’ve seen on camera and the ones you’ve yet to tell me about, what do you gain from them?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I don’t know. Nothing. Doesn’t change that they happen.” He sighed. “Does that make me…scary to you?”
