The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set: Irreparable #1-2

by Sam Mariano

  “Yeah, he’s all better now.” He barely let a beat pass, then he said, “Anyway, since I’m going to be back tonight, I thought maybe I could cash in that rain check on dinner?”

  “I can’t, I have to close tonight, so… it would be a really late dinner.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Let me see what I can do though. Maybe I can work something out and spend the night, if that’s cool with you.”

  “Of course, that sounds great.” He offered a smile, even though she couldn’t see it, hoping his enthusiasm would come through his tone. Things had been a little rough for a few days, and he wanted things to warm back up.

  Willow stood where she’d been several nights earlier, rapping on Ethan’s door, a bag in her hand.

  That time he was prompt about answering, and the mere sight of him warded off any lingering annoyance she’d felt about her last visit.

  “Hey, you,” she said, leaning against him and wrapping her arms around his neck, the little brown bag in one hand resting on his back.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist but stiffened a bit. “That’s cold. I didn’t know you were bringing something.”

  She planted a casual but lingering kiss on his lips, then pulled away, nodding as she opened the bag and peeked inside. “I got there five minutes before they closed. I’m pretty sure they wanted to murder me.”

  He reached out and fingered her long pony tail. “I like this.”

  She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Work. People have this weird thing about finding long hairs in their food.”

  “Go figure,” he returned.

  “I know.” She shook her head. “Bunch of princesses.” Willow extracted a circular container of frozen yogurt from the bag. “I wasn’t sure what kind you would want, so I got my favorite.”

  “What if I don’t like it?” he teased.

  “Then I’m not sure we can be together anymore,” she answered solemnly.

  He cracked a smile, and she fought the urge to sigh at his stupid, handsome face.

  “What if I love it, and I want to eat the whole thing myself?” he continued, since she only brought one bowl.

  “Then you can have it, and I’ll nibble on… other things,” she told him, boldly letting her eyes travel down his body.

  “What kind of boy do you take me for?” he joked, taking the container and popping off the lid. “I hope you brought two spoons?”

  Willow rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this, freak.”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I guess that’s a no.”

  “We’ve swapped spit—and other bodily fluids—lots of times. I promise we’re going to survive sharing a spoon. Plus,” she said, holding up a finger, “we aren’t really going to be eating off the spoon.”

  “We aren’t?”

  Grinning, she shook her head. “I have a different idea.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  She wished she would’ve had time to change into something sexier than her work clothes before coming over, but if all went according to plan, she wouldn’t even be wearing any soon. With that end in mind, she took his free hand and tugged him toward the hallway.

  By the time she pushed open the bedroom door, he said, “I think I might have an idea where you’re going with this.”

  “Excellent work, detective,” she teased, releasing his hand and taking a seat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her hands.

  Placing the bowl of frozen yogurt on the bedside table, Ethan climbed on the bed himself, climbing up her body to kiss her in a slow prowl.

  Willow sighed, resting her hands on his shoulders and closing her eyes as he kissed her, his fingers dropping down her neck to unbutton the top of her black button-down.

  “I’ve missed you,” she murmured between kisses.

  “Me too,” he told her, nuzzling into her neck and dropping kisses there.

  “Like, a lot. I know it’s severely uncool to admit that, but…”

  “I don’t think you could be uncool if you tried,” he told her, laughing lightly and nipping her earlobe.

  Groaning, she said, “Okay, enough talk, Detective Wilde.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked, pulling back to look at her.

  Her shirt was half undone, the bright pink bra she wore beneath peeking out and teasing him.

  Willow nodded slightly, then jerked her head in the direction of the frozen yogurt. “Let’s have dessert.”

  Ethan grinned. “Let’s.”

  ---

  After all the fun with the frozen yogurt, and then all of the fun with the post-froyo shower, Willow lay nestled up in the crook of Ethan’s arm, completely sated, yet somehow still craving him. It wasn’t just the sex she craved, but the nearness. The security.

  Things she would never feel—with him, at least—if she went to New York.

  She still hadn’t told him about it. Enough time had passed that it felt weird she hadn’t told him, but it wasn’t a conversation to have on the phone or via text.

  “So, we haven’t really had a chance to talk the past few days,” she murmured.

  “I know. Stupid work,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on her temple.

  “Something kind of weird happened,” she told him.

  His dark brows furrowed together in concern. “Weird how?”

  “Not bad weird,” she assured him, turning her head so she could look up at him. “More… unexpected weird.”

  His brow smoothed out and he smirked. “Like frozen yogurt in bed weird? We can do that again anytime you’d like, by the way.”

  She lightly swatted him in the side. "I'm serious. I need to talk to you about something."

  "Ok, I'm sorry." He shot her a properly chastised look that still managed to hint at mischief. "You have my undivided attention."

  “Okay, so you know my dad?”

  His smile dropped and his whole demeanor rapidly darkened.

  “I know.” She nodded, almost apologetically. “But I had to meet him for lunch one day, he summoned me,” she added, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t mention it because I know how you feel about him, and I didn’t think it was really worth mentioning. But… it turns out that my dad’s… I don’t know, girlfriend? Some woman he’s entangled with, she runs her own gallery and for whatever reason, even though I’m not actually qualified, because of my connection to my dad she offered me an internship. And since they’re really hard to get to begin with, and it seems like a really great opportunity, it’s something I kind of have to consider.”

  "Well, yeah. That sounds great, why do you seem kind of down about it?"

  "I'm not sure I can take it,” she told him.

  "Because it's your dad?"

  "No." She paused, looking down at the bed. "Because it's in New York."

  It took a couple of seconds to sink in, then he sobered a bit. "Oh."

  "Yeah. Like I said, I have to consider it, but obviously there are other things that are important to me that are worth considering, too. My family is here. We're here. And... I'm going out on a limb and assuming that even if I managed to fall into some great position in New York's art world, the likelihood of you ever being able to move there with me, even down the road..."

  He was already shaking his head, his face tugged into reluctant, apologetic lines. "Unless you're talking 17 years down the road, no way."

  She already knew that, but she nodded anyway. "That's what I figured." Then, with false optimism, she added, "Unless I really luck into something and I could afford to move Amanda and the kids out there, too."

  "Yeah, right." He rolled his eyes at her joke. "I'm sure that's what you'd want to do with your hypothetical fortune."

  Willow shrugged, not looking at him. "I would. Those are your kids, they always will be. I would never want to take you away from them, even if you were shitty enough to let me."

  Lifting an eyebrow, he said, "And my wife?"

  She managed not to wince, hearing him still call Amanda his wife. "Is their mother,” she
answered. “And I will always respect that."

  Ethan stared at her for a few seconds, then he lightly grabbed her arm, tugging her onto his chest. "You're amazing. Have I told you that lately?"

  She shrugged, pushing her long curtain of waves back over her shoulder. "I'm not. I love that you're a great dad, it's one of the things I admire most about you. I wish I would've had one of those." Missing a beat, she grinned down at his bare chest. "Though, I guess if I would've, I probably wouldn't be here with you now, would I?"

  He shot her a look, but couldn't keep a hint of a smile off his face. "I think it's safe to say if you had literally any father but yours, even another shitty one, you would not be here with me."

  Pretending to consider, she said, “Yeah, that’s a deal I can’t get behind. I guess I’ll just keep the crappy dad I was born with.”

  Smirking lightly, he said, “I’m not sure I’m worth the trade-off.”

  “Oh, I am,” she assured him, splaying her hands across his chest and lightly dragging them down to his abs. “I wouldn’t trade you for Daddy Warbucks.”

  “See, now I’m starting to think you just have bad judgment,” he teased.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and playfully jammed her finger into his side. He retaliated by catching her arm, tugging her back down on the bed and neatly bringing his body to hover over hers. In the process, without thought, he caught her wrists, pinning them down.

  He couldn’t hear the way her heart hammered in her chest or feel the sinking in her stomach, but he could see the playfulness on her face suddenly die, replaced by an instinctive, stark panic. Her already porcelain complexion paled even more and her pupils dilated until her gray eyes seemed almost completely black.

  Realizing the position he had her in, he quickly released her and drew back, sitting back on his heels.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, slowly, trying not to feel confused.

  Willow made a noise—a helpless, aggravated sound—and pushed up on her elbows. “I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t know… what just happened.”

  “I do,” he stated darkly.

  “No,” she said quickly, sitting up and resting a hand on his thigh. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Please do not apologize to me,” he said, still looking a little stunned. “Jesus, Willow.”

  Willow was at a loss for how to explain herself, but definitely felt she needed to. “That wasn’t—that wasn’t your fault.”

  “No?” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Must’ve been from one of the other men who raped you.”

  Scowling, she folded her arms across her chest. “Not funny.”

  “Not even a little bit.” He moved back to his side of the bed, but stayed closer to the foot, away from her.

  “Please don’t hold what just happened against… me or you or us. I don’t know what the hell that was. That wasn’t even how…” She stopped, not wanting to refer to what had happened. There was no way of not calling it what it was, and she wasn’t about to use that word and Ethan in the same thought, let alone refer to it aloud.

  “Yeah, I’m aware,” Ethan replied, his eyes widening very slightly.

  “I’m honestly fine,” she told him, lightly reaching out and touching his shoulder.

  “Seemed like it.”

  Sighing heavily, Willow said, “Tell me what I can do to fix this.”

  Ethan shook his head, looking down.

  When he said nothing, Willow kept trying, even though she had no idea how to explain her reaction. “I’m not… I don’t even have a problem with that, honestly. You can pin my wrists, you can do literally whatever you want. If I didn’t like something, I would tell you.”

  Ethan climbed out of the bed. “I thought we didn’t lie to each other.”

  She frowned.

  Glancing back knowingly, he said, “You didn’t tell me last time.”

  “I… was working through it.”

  “I don’t want sex to be something you have to work through, Willow! If you aren’t enjoying something, you need to say something or I won’t know. The last thing I want to do is ever hurt you again.”

  Following him off the bed, she grabbed his hand. “You weren’t. Not this time, not last time. I’m not… I wasn’t hurt, Ethan. I can’t help it if certain things make my body react weird for a minute, I can’t help it if my mind rebels for a minute—it’s not my heart. I don’t mean it. I always want you, always. If that happens and my body or my mind needs a minute to catch up, just… I don’t know, give it to me. Don’t stop, don’t pull away, stay and wait it out.”

  “Wait it out?” His eyes were practically bulging out of his head, for the first time in a long time, making her feel like he didn’t understand and they weren’t at all on the same page. “Willow, what happened before was traumatic for me, too.”

  “I understand that,” she said, frowning slightly.

  “Do you? You can’t expect me to see terror in your face and keep on going,” he said, gesturing in the air with his hand and turning away, dragging that hand through his hair.

  Willow folded her arms across her chest, feeling vulnerable. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m a little fucked up. I’m sorry that there’s… But it hasn’t really been that long, and I don’t think I’ve had enough experience since to… not react weirdly to certain things. But I don’t mean it. I don’t want you to stop. I’m not afraid of you, and if you kept going, you wouldn’t be hurting me. Even if… somehow I wasn’t able to fully snap out of it, I would never…” She shook her head, face warming, wishing she could pull literally any other word out of her head. “It isn’t possible for you to force me. Even if my body or my mind doesn’t want the act, it’s just a knee-jerk reaction. I still do, always.”

  His back was still toward her, and she wanted to go to him for comfort, but wasn’t sure he would welcome her at the moment.

  “I feel like shit, Willow.”

  Sighing, she took a few tentative steps toward him and slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her face against his back. “I feel awful for making you feel that way.”

  “I don’t want you to feel awful. Your body has every right to reject me. I want you to know that and not feel like you have to do something that makes you feel bad in order to keep from making me feel bad. When you’re afraid to tell me to stop, it makes me feel like I’m always pressuring you.”

  “I’m not afraid to tell you to stop.”

  Sighing, he turned back to face her. He hesitated a moment before lightly resting his hands on her hips. “I hope this doesn’t happen again, but when and if it does, let’s tackle it together. Don’t take it on yourself and try to protect me.”

  “Okay,” she drawled, a bit unsure. “What does that entail?”

  “Honest communication.”

  Willow wrinkled up her nose. “Ew.”

  Ethan shot her a dry look, but the left corner of his mouth tried to tug upward.

  Willow flashed him a little smile, feeling accomplished. “Just kidding. Proceed with your adulting.”

  “It may not be the most fun we’ve ever had in bed, but maybe we… I don’t know, try out different things, see what triggers you? That way you can work through it when I don’t have a hard on and expectation of a willing partner.”

  “I’d be down for that.” She nodded.

  “Maybe it would be less jarring if I went in prepared. But please, if it happens during real sex, please stop me. Even if you want to keep going, we’ll take a minute to regroup, change the pace, give your body or your mind a chance to catch up. I refuse to believe you have to suffer. If that’s the case, I’ll just have to be more careful not to trigger you. That should’ve been a no-brainer, I shouldn’t have—but I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean to…”

  Willow rested her chest against his face and hugged him. “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

  She felt him nod, his chin lightly brushing the top of her head.

  “Can I ask you someth
ing?”

  He sounded serious, so she was dreading it even as she said, “Of course.”

  “Is it just me? I know I said I didn’t want to ask about it, but… did this ever happen with Brian, or do you only have these episodes with me?”

  It wasn’t one of the questions she’d braced for, so she sagged in relief. “I never slept with Brian. There’s never been anyone but you.”

  Frankly, indulging a somewhat girly thought, she hoped there never would be.

  “Really?” he asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

  “Scout’s honor,” she answered lightly, flashing him three fingers.

  “That’s… surprising.”

  “Is it?” Her brows furrowed and she studied his gaze, a little confused that he seemed less pleased than she expected.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Her scowl deepened along with her confusion. “What do you mean, why? Because I didn’t want to? If you haven’t noticed, I have a pretty strong sense of loyalty; if I would’ve slept with Brian, that would’ve meant I was done with you.”

  He was giving her that look again, the almost contrite one she’d come to mentally refer to as the you’re so young look.

  Pointing a finger firmly in his face, she said, “Don’t do that.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “Your expressive, handsome mug said plenty.”

  “You’ve never been with anyone but me,” he stated, as if she hadn’t just said that.

  “I haven’t had any complaints so far,” she pointed out, eyebrows lifting pointedly. “I’m going to be honest, since you got jealous of me buying candy with another guy, I thought you might be a little pleased that I wasn’t out banging them. I sort of imagined how it would come up, envisioned the conversation, and this—this isn’t how it went.”

  “I just….” Ethan sighed, raking a hand through his raven locks. “I don’t want you to wake up one day with regrets. I don’t want you to feel like you wasted this time in your life on me instead of having all the experiences people your age usually have.”

  “Why would I have regrets? Why would I feel that way? That doesn’t…” She stopped, the realization of what he must be thinking hurtling into her mind so hard and so fast that she gasped. “When it’s over. Because you think this could only possibly end, probably… when Amanda forgives you and wants to be your wife again.”