Broken Dreams (Fatal Series Book 3)

by Callie Anderson

  Like Jerry, Ethan strikes fear when he enters a room.

  Ethan walks right between Michael and me. His shoulders are broad, shielding me from harm’s way. As always, he is my protector. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I don’t pay you to sit around here and fucking bullshit the day away with Erica. Your job is under the hood of the cars.” Ethan’s voice is threatening and authoritative. “Get to fucking work.” Michael and the other guy rush out of the pub. Ethan glances over at Erica. His jaw twitches. “What are you looking at? Don't you got shit to do? The new shipment of liquor came in. Go restock the back room.”

  Erica mumbles something and storms out of the bar.

  When we no longer hear her heels clicking on the wood floor, Ethan turns to face me. His features soften when our eyes meet. “I'm sorry about that,” he mutters. I stand there speechless for a few seconds staring at the man in front of me. He is everything I love laced with everything I despise.

  Jerry.

  He is identical to his father, and the resemblance makes me sick.

  “I have to go.” I hold firmly to the strap of my purse and jog out of the pub. The warm air hits my skin and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I walk up Main Street completely dazed and confused. After walking for five minutes, I realize my rental car is parked in the opposite direction. Frantic, I turn and am greeted with the kindest smile I've ever seen.

  Charlie.

  He was running after me. He stops dead in his tracks and opens his arms wide for me. “Leslie,” he says, folding his arms around my back.

  “Oh, Charlie! How are you, my friend?”

  “So much better now that you're here.” I pull away from his arms and glance up at him. He's a full foot and a half taller than I am. His shaggy brown hair is curled at the ends, and there are a few shaving nicks on his face. He looks so much like Ethan but still has a boyish touch.

  “You look good, Charlie, so grown up.” I can't hide the smile that grows on my lips. Out of everyone Jerry touched, Charlie was the only one who stayed pure.

  “You're just being nice. I still look the same. A little taller, and I got hair in places I didn't know I could have.” His eyes are wide.

  I stumble back and laugh. Of course Charlie would be inappropriate at the most appropriate time. “Charlie . . .”

  “I know. I know. I know. I can't talk like that in public. Ethan yells at me all the time.”

  My smile falters and I reach for his hand. “He yells at you?"

  “No, not yells. Not like Dad. Never like Dad.” I sigh with relief. “He just makes sure that I take my bath, I take my medicine, and I stay out of trouble.”

  I don't ask him anything else because a part of me doesn't want to know what Ethan does with his life now. The less I know, the better. “Well, it was really nice seeing you, Charlie.” I lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I'm so happy I bumped into you.”

  “Me, too.”

  I take a few steps away from Charlie, but he calls back for me. I turn my head and he says, “Michael's a punk. Don't be scared of him. He wouldn't touch a fruit fly. But if he messes with you, let me know and I'll take care of it.”

  I simply nod and continue to walk down the street.

  My foot lifts off the gas and presses gently on the brake as I turn onto my street. The houses all come into view before I gasp. Ethan rests against the hood of his car, his gaze focused on his old house. My heart races as I approach him.

  He straightens when I pull my car into the driveway. I inhale some courage and step out of the car. We don’t speak. His eyes scan my body before he holds up a white paper bag. “Hungry?”

  “Why are you here?” I ask him.

  “I figured since you left without touching your food you’d be starving.”

  “Your employees lack customer service,” I snip, hating the encounter with his girlfriend.

  “Can we talk?” Ethan cocks his head toward the backyard and I nod. As much as I try to hate him, deep down inside I never learned how. He follows behind as I lead the way. I walk past the deck and toward the field of tall grass that leads to the beautiful mountains. It was where we sat when we were kids. We spent countless hours after school back here, doing homework or making out until our lips were bruised.

  We find our way under our tree and sit. Refusing to look at him, I bring my knees to my chest. Ethan opens the bag and hands me a turkey club sandwich.

  “You still like these?” he says, holding up a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.

  “Yeah.” My voice is low. Being near him causes my brain to turn to mush.

  “Is it weird being back?” he asks before taking a bite of his sandwich.

  “You have no idea.” I open the bag of chips and shove a few in my sandwich. “My mother is still the same. Crazy as always.”

  “How’s Los Angeles?”

  I look up at him. There is so much to say to one another, so much I want to ask, but too much time has passed and he isn’t the same person he was before. “I moved to Chicago a few years ago,” I say before taking a bite.

  “Oh.”

  We are silent for a few seconds before I ask, “How’s life here?”

  “It’s okay.” He shrugs and I lift my eyebrow. “I’m not like him, Freckles,” he adds like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “That’s not what it looks like.” I chew my bite slowly before swallowing. I’m remembering the powerfully scary man who walked into the pub earlier today.

  “I would never.” He shakes his head in defense. “You know how much I hate him.”

  “So, Michael and Erica?” I can’t help but want to know more about them.

  “They work for me. After Jerry . . . After you left, I had to pick up the slack.” His words hurt me. “Everyone counted on me once my mother was taken away by the state and Charlie had no one to look out for him, so I dove head first into the business.”

  I give him a concerned look. “What happened at the pub today isn’t okay.”

  “Michael thinks because we’re friends, he’s the hot guy in town. He’s harmless.”

  “Harmless? Invading my personal space isn’t harmless. It’s all too familiar. And Erica?” My voice grows with annoyance.

  He sighs. “She doesn’t care for you very much.”

  “What did I ever do to her?” I ask before taking another bite.

  “You didn’t do anything. It’s more that I refuse to let you go.”

  Taken aback, I lick my lips repeating what he said. “You did let me go.”

  “Not really.” He looks deep into my eyes. For a moment I’m lost in the green hue that holds specs of gold.

  Shaking my head, I say, “From what I remember, I asked you to come. I begged you to come and you never showed.”

  “Les . . . It wasn’t that simple.”

  Swallowing the golf ball lodged in my throat, I nod. “I see.” A part of me wants to scream. I want to rehash the past and say the words I never had a chance to say.

  “I don’t do what Jerry did.” He tries to change the subject.

  “If you say so.”

  “Les.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations, Ethan.” Having a normal conversation with him is impossible. The past is still the past and it’s something I will never get over. I crumble up the wrapper and stand. “I have to go. Thank you for lunch, and thank you for saving me from your friends.”

  “What are you doing?” He rushes to his feet.

  “I’m not going to sit here and pretend everything between us is fine. I’m tired of being the bigger person and swallowing back everything I feel. I needed you. I needed you to be there, and you weren’t. I needed you to be my anchor, and you left me. What happened to Jerry was because of me and never did we talk about it. I was shoved in a hospital room and the last image I have of you is you in that garage. You dove into the family business because everyone was looking at you. You were there for everyone but me.”

  “Les. I fucked up, but le
t me explain. ” He reaches out to grab my hand but I take a step back.

  “No. Don’t chase after me now. I don’t need your explanations eight years later. I learned to build myself back up, no thanks to you. I’m here to work and help my parents. When everything is back to normal, I’m out of here.”

  And with that, I turn and make my way toward the house. I don’t glance back. I refuse to let him see me falter.

  Not anymore.

  11

  PRESENT

  That tequila bottle is half empty but I pour myself another shot. I know I made a deal with my mother to give up tequila but that was before Ethan appeared. I'm attempting to drown out Ethan from my head but failing miserably. After I rushed off from our picnic, I stopped at the liquor store before picking up my mother. I decided on the drive from there to the hospital that it would be a night for forgetting. Even if it meant I drank the entire bottle.

  I hated being around Ethan.

  I hated that I still loved him as though a day had never passed.

  But most of all I hated every single feeling I still had for him deep inside of me.

  After dinner, my mother excused herself to her room, and I made my way to the tequila bottle I had stashed inside my purse. Sitting in the living room, I stare at the blank screen on the television, a shot glass in one hand and the bottle in the other as I contemplate my life. I'm tired of running. But it's what I do best.

  My mind spins. One moment I'm considering how much I love Ethan, and the next I'm imagining him and Erica. My blood boils with anger. I feel like that Katy Perry song. I'm hot and I'm cold . . .

  I'm a freaking mess, that’s one thing I know for sure.

  I should get some rest since tomorrow will be packed with meetings with potential new clients for the grand re-opening. But instead of going to bed, I pull out my phone and open Facebook. I'm not usually on social media. I actually find it repulsive.

  That's a lie.

  I avoid it so I don't become a stage five clinger and stalk people. When I first moved to Los Angeles, I spent hours on Facebook waiting to see if Ethan popped up. The app became so addictive I blocked everyone from Prescott and changed my contact name so no one would find me. After a few years, I stalked Harry, my ex-boyfriend, until I drove myself mad. It’s toxic, yet I refuse to deactivate my account.

  Unable to control myself, I unblock all the friends from Prescott, and enter Ethan's name in the search bar. His profile appears, and like countless times before, nothing has changed. An old picture and no updates on his life or places he has checked into. Feeling like a daredevil, I take a swig straight from the bottle and click through the pictures he’s been tagged in. My stomach turns.

  It's pictures of him after I left. His life when I was gone. He looks serious in some, standing behind the bar as some guy takes a picture. In a crowd as someone takes a group shot. There are also plenty of him with Erica. She must love tagging her boyfriend all over social media.

  I grind my teeth and click on the next photo. I can't help but scrutinize the last picture longer than most. It was taken two years after I left, and thanks to Facebook I even know the date and time it was uploaded. It’s a picture of Ethan and Stephanie.

  Stephanie was my friend who transferred to our school the summer of my junior year. She was in my dance class at school, and was also a regular victim of my mother in the studio. Aside from Ethan, she was the only person I considered a friend.

  My drunken eyes study the picture. “Stephanie and Ethan,” I slur to the computer screen. They’re sitting rather close to each other. She's leaning into him and her silky blonde hair rests on his shoulder. They are both smiling into the camera and a part of me feels jealous.

  Was she my replacement once I was gone?

  Like me, she had planned on a dancing career for herself. She was supposed to go to Miami after high school, not stay here and take pictures with my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, I remind myself.

  “Grr,” I growl at the computer screen like a dog. This is why I hate social media. A simple picture has made the green-eyed monster that lives inside me rear its ugly head.

  My fingers race over the keyboard on my computer and I can’t stop them. So I give in to the jealousy and send Stephanie a Facebook message.

  Me: Hey stranger, how's life?

  The second I hit the send button, I don’t blink waiting for her to respond. It’s a disease, really; I’m wasting precious time over a picture that is six years old.

  Three little dots appear immediately and I can only assume she has a notification setting on her cell phone.

  Stephanie: OMG!!!!! Leslie! How are you?

  Me: I'm good. Back in town. Temporarily, of course. My dad had a heart attack so I'm helping out my mom.

  Stephanie: Oh no! I heard about your dad, I'm sorry. How does it feel to be back?

  Me: You heard about my dad?

  Stephanie: Yeah, you know how this town is. It lives for gossip.

  Me: I didn't know you were in town. What happened to Miami?

  Stephanie: It's a long story. Maybe we can meet and catch up?

  I blame the alcohol for my need to know everything. I blame the jealousy that courses through my veins like blood.

  Me: I'm free tonight if you want to grab some coffee.

  Stephanie: Sure, that works. Do you want to meet at Beans in thirty?

  Me: Perfect, I'll see you then.

  We exchange numbers before saying good-bye. I run into the bathroom to shower off some of the drunkenness. Ten minutes later I'm dressed and out the door. I take the keys off the hook near the door, but walk past the car. Due to the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed, it's best to walk into town rather than drive.

  The mile and a half hike sobers me a bit more, and when I see Stephanie all chipper and beautiful I pray that my pores aren't oozing with tequila. She’s sitting at one of the tables outside of Beans. Her hands are laced around a large paper cup and when our eyes meet a genuine smile grows on her flawless face.

  “Hi!” She stands and rushes over to me. Her tiny hands embrace me, and I’m greeted with her lavender scented lotion. “Oh, my God, look at you!” She says when she lets go. “You’re still smoking hot!”

  I shake my head and laugh. “Shut up! You know I can never compete with that gorgeous hair of yours.”

  “Please. Blonde is boring and flat. Your untamable long, black hair is sexy. I seriously can't believe you're back in town.” She hugs me once again. “I'm so happy to see you. Come on, we need to catch up.”

  After I order the largest Americano on the menu, I sit outside with Stephanie.

  “So.” Her eyes are wide and she is swaying from side to side. “How's life? You live in LA now, right?”

  “Life is good, I guess.” I blow on my hot coffee. “I moved out of LA a few years ago. I had a job opportunity in Chicago, so I took it.” I take a sip of my coffee and realize my life is pretty boring. I’m at the stage where my friends are getting engaged, getting married, having kids, travelling the world. I go to work. I hang out with my coworkers, and on occasion I let said coworkers set me up on blind dates because they feel I'm wasting my beauty.

  “How are you?” I ask, quickly changing the subject. “I'm surprised to see you here. We had plans to get out of this town.”

  “I know.” Stephanie sighs. “Miami didn't happen.” She pouts.

  “Why not?” I try to tone down the eagerness in my voice.

  “I realized that summer it wasn’t for me. I was getting ready to ship everything to Florida and it hit me. I loved to dance, but I didn’t want to do it professionally, not like you.” She shakes her head. “Yeah, I was a good dancer and it was fun, and I loved to compete, but it wasn't my passion.” She lifts her hands. “I hate the humidity. I'm petrified of hurricanes. And I just didn't feel right. So instead, I went to Arizona State.”

  “Oh, wow,” I say but in the back of my mind all I want to do is ask her about the picture with Ethan.

  “Yeah,
I was close to my parents and it was such an easy drive to come home when ever I wanted. And after the whole thing with Jerry, the town got so much better.” She crinkles her nose at the mention of Jerry. I pull my gaze away from hers and glance down at my coffee cup. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring him up. I should've known better.”

  I shake my head. “It's okay, really. It was such a long time ago it doesn't bother me anymore,” I lie.

  “So, were there any hot guys in Los Angeles?” She winks at me, and we both know she is desperately trying to change the subject.

  “There was one, but it didn't work out. I was too focused on my career.”

  “Or maybe you were still holding on to what you left here.”

  “I didn't leave him here. He never came after me.” Stephanie's lips purse and I want to ask her what it means, but her phone vibrates and she glances down at the screen.

  “Crap, hold on,” she says, bringing the phone to her ear. “Hi, honey.” She smiles at me and I can hear a man’s voice on the other end of the line. “I'm having coffee with Leslie . . . She was my first friend here and then she went to school in Los Angeles. This is the first time she's back. How’s Seattle? . . . Oh, no! . . . Okay, well, can I call you when I get home? . . . All right. I love you! Bye, honey." She places the phone on the table and smiles up at me. “Sorry; the hubby.” She raises both eyebrows with excitement.

  “You're married!” I can't hide the excitement in my voice.

  “Yeah, we eloped last year in Hawaii. His name is Bruce, and we met my last year at Arizona State. I had an internship with his firm. He travels a lot for business, which was why I chose to move back home so at least I can be close to my family. It's hard when he's gone for long periods of time, but I don't work anymore so when I miss him, I just get on a plane and go see him.” Her eyes sparkle as she talks about him.

  “I'm really happy for you,” I say with every ounce of genuine enthusiasm I have inside of me.