I glance behind me for just a moment. Ethan is in one of his many cars—the green Tesla, this time—but for once I feel no modicum of interest, no shred of envy. Yesterday, I would have died for a chance to mess around with the guts of this car but today I don’t so much as want to touch it, let alone ride in it.
Our eyes meet and my stomach lurches, threatens to rebel.
He looks as lost as I feel, and angry as I am, I hate knowing that he’s suffering. Hate knowing that I caused it, even after everything. I wouldn’t wish the pain I feel on anyone, let alone on Ethan, the only man I’ve ever loved.
That doesn’t mean I can stay, though. Doesn’t mean I can ever be with him again. Not with all the history crashing down on us like a tsunami.
I turn away, walk down the street toward the ocean. It’s stretched out in front of me, blue and infinite and beautiful. For a second, just a second, I think about continuing to walk—down the sidewalk, across the beach, into the water. Walking and walking and walking until I’m totally immersed, the dark water closing over my head, the undercurrent pulling me down.
It’s an inviting thought. Too inviting, considering how I spent the months and years directly after the rape. Drowning in fear, humiliation, self-loathing.
Not wanting to go back there—refusing to go back there—I concentrate on nothing more complicated than putting one foot in front of the other. The heat of the sidewalk helps, the edge of pain keeping me sane. Keeping me focused.
“Get in the car, Chloe.”
Ethan’s voice is right beside me—he’s pacing me in the Tesla—but I don’t so much as turn to look at him. I’m done. With him. With us. With this whole fucked up situation.
“Damn it, Chloe! Please. Just let me take you home, make sure you’re safe. I promise, I won’t bother you after that.”
The crack inside me deepens at his words, breaks me wide open. I can barely stay upright under the onslaught.
But I do stay upright.
I do keep walking.
I don’t answer him.
There’s a part of me that can’t help but respond to the order—and the plea—in Ethan’s voice, but I ignore that part. Lock it down so deep inside of myself that I may never find it again.
Which is exactly how I want it. I might not know much right now, but I know this. There is no way I’m getting in that car with Ethan. No way I’m giving him another chance to, however inadvertently, rip me to pieces.
I turn the corner onto Prospect, one of the main streets that runs through La Jolla. I don’t look at Ethan, but I know he makes the turn with me because suddenly there’s a spate of loud honking. He’s still pacing me, despite now being on a street where he should be driving at least forty miles an hour.
A particularly strident horn sounds, loud and long. It’s not until it finally stops that I hear Ethan cursing viciously.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to glance at him out of the corner of my eye. But I’m not that weak. Not anymore. Not ever again.
The honking stops abruptly and since I’m staring straight ahead I can’t miss Ethan suddenly burning rubber up the street.
That didn’t take long. Not that I’m surprised. He’s never been the most patient guy.
A new wave of agony sweeps over me, drags me under. I don’t struggle against it—I learned long ago that some things can’t be fought. Can’t be beaten. They can only be endured.
Forcing myself to look away from the Tesla’s taillights, I once again concentrate on walking, just walking. The faster I get home, the faster this whole nightmare will be over.
But I haven’t gone very far—about a block and a half—before I see Ethan striding purposefully down the street toward me. I flinch away when he gets close, though he makes no move to reach for me.
He catalogues my instinctive movement, his eyes darkening to midnight blue as he very deliberately tucks his hands into his pockets.
“I won’t touch you,” he tells me in a voice that sounds like gravel. “I won’t talk to you, won’t do anything else to upset you. But one way or another, I’m going to make sure that you get home safely, so you might as well accept it.”
“I’m not your problem anymore.” The words slip past my lips before I know I’m going to say them.
“You were never a problem,” he answers, his voice warm and steady and familiar. So familiar. It’s the same voice he uses when he cuddles me in bed. When he washes me in the shower. When he tells me he loves me.
Another wave of agony rolls through me and I walk faster. I can see Tori’s condominium complex in the distance and for a moment I’m afraid it’s a mirage. I’m that desperate to get to it—and away from Ethan.
I start running without making the conscious decision to do so. The hot pavement scrapes against the bottom of my feet, but I don’t give a shit right now. Tears are burning behind my eyes, my whole body is shaking and my chest is so tight that I’d think I was having a heart attack if I didn’t know better. I’m one tiny step from falling apart and I’m not going to do that on one of the busiest streets of La Jolla, with Ethan Frost and a million tourists looking on.