Ethan (Face-Off Book 5)

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Ethan (Face-Off Book 5) Page 10

by Jillian Quinn


  Frustrated, I release my grip on her face and drop my hand to the floor. “I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

  I’m not ready to reveal to truth about why I left after high school. The information could ruin my professional hockey career.

  “The fact you have something to hide makes me want to know even more,” she admits.

  “Which is why I won’t tell you. My life isn’t something for you to report to the world.”

  “You should know me well enough by now, I would never do that to you.”

  With Mia working for The Philadelphia Inquirer, I can’t take the risk. What if she told someone by accident? She could tell Clarke and think nothing of it. I know she would never hurt me on purpose, but some things are better left in the past.

  “I know you wouldn’t. Can we forget about the past and think about the future instead?”

  “We don’t have a future,” she spits back. “Once Will finds out about us, he’ll put an end to it.”

  I move her to the floor next to me and sit up, folding one leg over the other. “I’d like to see him stop me. Will might have some say in your life, but he has zero in mine.”

  “We both know that’s not true. Will is your best friend. He’s our family.”

  “Herein lies my dilemma... I’ve been thinking all day about how I can be with you without hurting my best friend. He’s like my brother. But I can’t ignore the way I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you.”

  “Neither can I,” she confesses. “So, what do we do now? Tell Will and see if he freaks out?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea. The other day, Will flat out asked me if I liked you, and I lied right to his face. I hate doing this to him. He deserves to know.”

  “I agree.” Mia lets out a small puff of air, blowing a piece of hair in front of her eyes. She pushes it away with her finger and continues, “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with my brother. I love him too much to do that to him. Will would be just as lost without you as you would be without him. He was a mess after you left. We both were. I don’t want to see him like that ever again.”

  “How do you think I felt? I never wanted to leave either of you. For the longest time, Mia, you were my something good.”

  “You were always mine,” she whispers. “You still are, even though I hate to admit it. I waited years for you to kiss me. I used to sit on the swing next to you and hope that just once you would pull me into your arms and kiss me.”

  I grab her by the hips and move her onto my lap. She slides her arm across the back of my neck. When I cup her cheek in my hand, she closes her eyes and moans softly. She wants this as much as I do. We both need this.

  So, I kiss her as if it’s the last time I’ll ever touch her. I kiss her as if she’s my last breath. Most of all, I kiss her goodbye. Because after what I did last night, I know I have to stay away from Mia. She’s another drug I need to kick.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mia

  Ethan is avoiding me. He hasn’t called in days and hasn’t bothered to answer a single text. He’s on the road with his teammates. I understand he needs to concentrate on the playoffs, but he’s home for a few days and has no reason to act like such a jerk.

  Will stretches his hand across the kitchen table. “Can you pass me the sugar?”

  I push the sugar bowl in front of him and then take a sip from my cup.

  “Thanks, baby sis.” He drops three teaspoons into his coffee and stirs it with a knife instead of the spoon in front of him.

  Weirdo.

  “How come you’re so quiet this morning?” Will lifts the mug to his lips and blows off some steam. “You haven’t even yelled at me for coming home late.”

  I shrug against the wooden chair. “You texted and said not to wait up because your bus was having issues. Plus, I’m too tired to give you shit. I haven’t had much sleep this week.”

  Because of Ethan.

  “Me neither.” Will shrugs. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

  I peel back the Dunkin Donuts wrapper and take a bite of the sausage and egg sandwich Will picked up for me this morning. “Where’s Ethan?”

  He takes a few bites of his sandwich and washes it down with a gulp of coffee. “Hotel, I think. He said he needed some space and a decent bed to sleep in. His game was off this week. I don’t know what’s up with him. He started acting weird after our apartment flooded… and now, he’s taking his shitty performance in last night’s game a lot harder than expected.”

  I have no right to be angry. But I am. Ethan kissed me on the floor of my living room. I had assumed I would see him again in the morning. That was days ago. I miss him, even though I should hate him for disappearing on me again.

  Halfway through breakfast, my cell phone vibrates across the table. My stomach clenches, the eggs in my stomach threatening to make a re-appearance. I sigh when I see Clarke’s name on my screen instead of Ethan’s.

  I slide my thumb along the screen and read her text.

  Clarke: You were right about Old City Records. Fred is popping major wood over the story. From what I heard in the break room, he scored you an interview for a part-time gig.

  Before I can respond, a call from Fred Stephenson, my boss from hell, interrupts our conversation. Sucking in a deep breath, I hit the green button to answer and push my chair out from the table. “Hey, Fred.”

  “Mia, cancel whatever you have planned for the morning.”

  Hello to you, too.

  “I need you to stop by Old City Records at nine o’clock for an interview with the owner.” His deep voice sounds like gravel and hurts my ear the way he barks each word. “I pulled a few strings to make this happen. After reading your notes, I think you’re on to something. Chase this lead and see where it takes you.”

  Pressing the phone to my ear, I get up from the table to give myself some distance from Will. Even though we’re close, I can’t tell my brother about certain parts of my job. Following around drug dealers to write a story is certainly not one of them.

  I move into the living room. “Sure thing, boss.”

  “One more thing,” Fred says.

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t fuck this up. Wear something short and tight. You have to impress the owner if you know what I mean.”

  Actually, no, I don’t, you fucking asshole.

  “I need the job and the story. I won’t disappoint.”

  “Chin up, tits out,” he growls. “Call me when it’s done.”

  Then, the line goes dead.

  Why do all of the men in my life have to be such assholes and dirtballs? My chest aches at the thought of Ethan, producing a pang of anger mixed with shame and sexual frustration. I have to put my feelings aside and do my job. My career is on the line. This interview is a step in the right direction and the perfect distraction from Ethan.

  Two hours later, I walk through the front door at Old City Records. Wearing knee-high boots and a black tank and skirt that I paired with a jean jacket, I look the part of the grunge rocker chick who could work at a record store. The holes Ethan never fails to give me shit about are interspersed along my jacket, complete with rock band patches I’ve collected over the years.

  If Ethan wanted a dress-up Barbie, he should have chased down another puck bunny. Instead, he chose me as his next victim. Like most diseases, he’s hard to shake from my system. I wish I could pop a few pills and cleanse him from my body. But Ethan has a stronghold over me, consuming every thought of every waking moment.

  I stop at the front counter and force a smile. “Hi, I’m here to see Connor about the part-time clerk position.”

  A man with chestnut hair and deep brown eyes peeks up at me from the newspaper in his hand. How convenient that he’s reading my paper—The Philadelphia Inquirer. Not that it surprises me, considering it’s the most read in the city, but it sure is funny timing.

  He sets the paper on a stack of records in front of him and leans forward. A smile reaches up to hi
s deep brown eyes and illuminates his face. As if Fred told him to do it, he glances at my face for a second, before raking over my body with his lecherous gaze. He settles on my chest, making me feel self-conscious and also stupid for listening to Fred. But he was obviously right. And I need this job. So, fuck it. Ogle away.

  “I’m Connor.” He reaches his hand across the counter for me to shake. “You must be Pandora.”

  I almost burst out in laughter. Pandora? That’s my cover for this job. What the fuck? Like Pandora’s box.

  Way to go, Fred.

  Was that the best he could come up with? Or did he do that to fuck with me?

  A common name like Mary or Patricia would have been better. A little heads up would have been nice. That asshole probably wanted me to mess this up. Not gonna happen, buddy.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my laughter, hoping I can make it through this interview without screwing up. Maybe Fred knew how much I needed a laugh after the week I’ve had.

  “You can call me Dora,” I offer as if I were actually born with this unusual name and have to correct people all the time.

  Dora the Explorer. Oh my God. How will I make it through the next five minutes?

  Connor points a long finger at the barstool to his left. “Have a seat.”

  I do as he instructs, still biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing in his face. From now until I nail the bastards running their operation out of this store, I’ll be Dora or whoever the fuck I need to be to get the story written.

  “So, Dora,” Connor says. “Have you ever worked in a record store?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Do you know how to use a record player? We only play vinyl in this store. No CDs or MP3s are allowed on the surround system. Store policy. Not like we have anything you can play them with anyway.”

  “Makes sense, seeing as this is a record store,” I say, almost forgetting this is an interview. I flash a closed mouth smile and continue, “Yes, I know how to use a record player. I have my parents’ old Thorens model they bought after they got married.”

  “Sweet.” He moves his hands in front of him to crack his knuckles, his muscular arms flexing in the process. “It’s not often we get anyone in here who even knows how to drop a record.” After he finishes his stretch, he leans forward with his hands on the glass counter. “Well, the hours are pretty straightforward…” he pauses for a moment then continues, “… Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights from four o’clock until closing at ten. I pay in cash once a week. No overtime, no health insurance, no benefits of any kind. You’ll have to lock up at the end of your shift, close out the till, and make sure the store is clean for the next morning. Think you can handle that?”

  That’s a lot of trust to hand over to a new employee. Maybe I was wrong about this place. Either way, I can use the extra money to buy groceries.

  “Yes, I can handle it. When do I start?”

  “How about tonight?”

  I nod, nervous about starting so soon. This is all finally happening for me. The break I need.

  “Sounds good,” I say with a genuine smile.

  “Come by around quarter to four, and I’ll get you set up with everything.”

  I extend my hand to Connor, and he gives it a shake. I have a job, one that can make or break my career. It’s also a good distraction from Ethan.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ethan

  After getting knocked out of the playoffs by the Caps, I’ve made myself scarcer than normal. It’s been two weeks since I last saw Mia, and Will has been up my ass about hanging out. He’s worried about me. I have a habit of shutting out the world when I need to clear my head.

  Will’s the only person who knows about the guilt and anger I harbor over the past. He’s well aware of my issues and lets me crawl into the darkness just long enough before he has to pull me out. And that’s why I finally gave in to his requests to meet him for dinner.

  I find Will in the back of Chinese Garden hovered over several cartons of food. He digs into each of them like a ravenous beast, chewing with his mouth half-open. Every time he ate at my house, my mom made comments about Will’s etiquette.

  It wasn’t often we had guests for dinner. While my dad was alive, our house was more like a mausoleum than a home. But on the few occasions Will was invited for Sunday dinner, he ate the same way. And my mom said something about it to me every time.

  I sit across from Will and lift a pair of chopsticks from the center of the table. “Couldn’t wait until I got here?”

  “Dude, I haven’t eaten all day, and you’re late. When it comes to food, I wait for no man.”

  I work on a plate of General Tso’s, Mia’s favorite, while Will devours a container of shrimp fried rice. Mia would live off this shit if she had the money to buy takeout every night.

  “Where have you been all week?” Will shoves a forkful of rice into his mouth, speaking between bites. “You shacking up with some chick I don’t know about?”

  I laugh, attempting to chew the rubbery chicken. “Nah, you know me. I don’t do repeats. Too much drama.”

  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then continues to stuff his face with more rice. Will is like a child with food all over his mouth and down the front of his shirt. And he’s not even drunk.

  Will sets the rice carton on the table and shoots me a pained look. “Then, where have you been? You haven’t stopped by the apartment in two weeks. Mia’s asked about you a few times. And I’m starting to wonder if you’re taking our loss a little harder than you should. Your old habits aren’t creeping up on you, I hope?”

  He’s referring to my past drug addiction.

  I shrug off his concern. “Nah, I’m good. We got our asses handed to us in the last game. We deserved to lose.”

  My performance didn’t help us.

  “Are you coming back to the apartment?”

  I shake my head. “It’s too crowded. I added a few more nights to my stay at the Ritz. I can’t sleep on the couch. It kills my back and shoulder.”

  Sometimes, the pain from my past comes back at the worst times. I needed a decent night’s sleep, but Mia is the real reason I’ve steered clear of her apartment. I don’t want to hurt her, and yet I know what I’m doing must be crushing her because it’s killing me.

  He snickers. “And you didn’t invite me? Dick. The mattress in Mia’s guest room is kicking my ass. The floor is more comfortable.”

  “Hey, you were the one who was sneaking off with those girls. If you weren’t MIA most of the time, I would’ve asked you to share a suite with me.”

  In all honesty, we needed a break from each other. We play hockey for the same team and share an apartment. A few times, we’ve even shared girls. I needed some space from the Roman family with how intense things were getting between Mia and me. But I’m too much of a coward to tell Will why.

  “Ahh, that’s cool, bro.” Will waves his hand in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. My sister is hardly ever home. She has a new job. I only see her before she goes to work. We eat breakfast together, and then she leaves. I crash in her bed when she’s gone. Our arrangement works.”

  “You should consider getting a room for a few nights,” I suggest. “Some sleep would do you good.”

  He shakes his head. “We’ll be back in our apartment in no time.”

  For someone with money, Will is unusually cheap. He’d rather crash on Mia’s couch than shell out the cash for a hotel room.

  Will cracks open a fortune cookie and laughs at the message on the slip of paper inside. He throws it on the table. “Even the Chinese proverbs are telling me to go out tonight, and you, my friend, are coming with me.”

  I lift the paper and shake my head. “Flattery will go far tonight. I don’t think there’s a hidden meaning behind this fortune.”

  Will shrugs. “Yeah, maybe not, but it’s an excuse to have some fun before we have to go back to real life.” He reaches across the
table and grabs the egg roll from my plate. “You gonna eat this or what? I’ve been eying it up for the last ten minutes.”

  A smirk touches my lips. “Go right ahead.”

  Will bites into the egg roll, licking some of the juices that slide down his lip. Watching Will eat is almost comical, or more to the truth, gross, even. He acts as if he hasn’t had a meal in days. I have no problem sticking to our diet during the season, but Will isn’t as disciplined when it comes to the meal plans I make him follow.

  Binge drinking and eating for the first few weeks after the regular season is part of Will’s post-season routine. I could just as easily fall back into old habits along with him, but I have to control myself. I can’t go back to being the person I was in high school. Because, unlike Will, I won’t be able to stop once I lose myself.

  I felt myself starting to slip with Mia. Driving to see her in the middle of the night made me realize I was on a slippery slope. She could be my downfall, my biggest weakness. And I can’t afford to have any more of those.

  “Your sister got another job? Did she get fired from the paper?”

  Will wipes his hands on the tablecloth. “Nah, nothing like that. She’s on a special assignment at a record store. Mia said she’s not allowed to talk about it.”

  Our jobs aren’t something either of us bother talking about. We’re too busy taking off our clothes. Apart from what I know about the girl I met most nights in her backyard, I understand very little about the woman Mia is now. And that annoys me because I should—no, I want to know—more about her after all these years.

  “How is she juggling that with her other job?”

  I miss her. She deserves a decent apology, one that I’ll most likely fuck up. A girl like Mia deserves someone better than me, someone who can love and worship her like a goddess and not just behind closed doors.

  “You know Mia, all business and no pleasure. She leaves early in the morning for the Inquirer and goes straight to Old City Records after work. I usually get her breakfast. That’s about the only time we see each other.”

 

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