by K B Cinder
I left my bedroom, a little extra pep in my step at how spotless my apartment was. Apparently heartbreak was good motivation for cleaning. At least for me.
I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open, choking on air as soon I saw who was on the other side: Ethan.
He was far more casual than I’d ever seen him, jeans low on his hips with a snug olive green t-shirt clinging to his chest, dark stubble dancing across his cheeks while his hair did its own thing. Despite it all, he was devastatingly handsome.
And also, a bastard.
“You have a lot of nerve!” I hissed, fully prepared to slam the door in his face. I would’ve too, if it wasn’t for his damn foot in the way.
“I do,” he agreed, not a bit of humor in his voice or eyes. Everything about him was different, more rigid than I was used to. Something was off.
“What do you want?” As much as I wanted him to leave, I also wanted answers. No, needed answers. I couldn’t keep crying myself to sleep over a man that didn’t want me.
“To talk.”
“Spill it,” I spat, using his own quick-talk tactics against him.
“In private.” His eyes drifted to the street above, a few passersby dilly-dallying at the scene unfolding.
I stepped aside to let him in, shutting and locking the door behind him loudly. He didn’t wait for me, heading straight for the couch where he sat down, eyes drifting around the apartment.
“Go on, talk!” I leaned against the door with crossed arms, refusing to make nice. If he wanted to talk, we were doing it on my terms.
“I’m sorry.” The apology was delivered softly, his hands steepled on his knees as he focused on them.
“For?” I pushed, dreading the inevitable as my heart somehow managed to plummet further. He regretted sleeping with me. I knew it.
“Ignoring you,” he replied, still refusing to look at me. “It was disrespectful and cruel, just as I’d intended. But I can’t do that to you anymore.”
He meant to hurt me? That was worse than regretting sex. I rubbed my hands along my upper arms, the sting of fresh tears threatening my eyes.
“Come here, please.” He patted the seat next to him, but I didn’t budge. I wasn’t sure I could walk without falling even if my life depended on it.
“Why would you do that to me?” I whispered, losing the battle against the waterworks, a single tear escaping down my cheek. I closed my eyes, willing them to stop, only to pop them wide when I felt his fingers brushing across my cheek to wipe it away.
His eyes held mine, the sea of blue promising adventure yet his expression wasn’t that of Ethan. He wasn’t the happy-go-lucky guy I adored. He was a statue, the sharp angles tightly in place. “I have to.”
I shook my head as more tears escaped, mind swimming with questions, too many to put into words. What was he talking about? “You don’t hurt people you care about, Ethan.”
“You’re right. I hurt people I love, Plum.” He was so close that his breath was hot on my ear, lips peppering kisses across my cheek as he moved painfully slow toward my mouth.
He loved me? My eyes popped wide, now nose to nose with the man that left me in ruins for over a week. “What?”
“I’ve loved you from the moment we met,” he admitted, a smile touching his voice at last. “You’re always the most beautiful woman in the room. Always the one with the biggest heart. Always the one I wanted.”
I swallowed hard, sure I was about to crumble to the floor. If it wasn’t for his hands suddenly on my hips, I’m sure I would’ve, too. “Always?”
He nodded, lips brushing against mine before he pulled away looking stricken. “Always, Kee.”
“Then why did you leave me?” You don’t leave the ones you love. I knew that better than anyone.
Another soft kiss chased away the pain, the venom I’d once had for him replaced with uncertainty. “To save you.”
“From what?” I asked, fear cutting through the fog of desire. He’d always been my savior, swooping in to pick me up when life wore me down. If anything, staying with me would have saved me from plummeting into the depression that was my last week.
His lips feathered across mine, his fingers biting into my hips where they had a week earlier. “Me.”
He was out of his mind. “You don’t scare me.” He never would either, regardless of whatever flimsy warning flag he was waving. He might have broken me, but he swooped back in to pick up the pieces. He cared. He loved.
A nip on my bottom lip caught me off guard before a quick peck soothed the pain away. “I should.”
I gripped his shirt, taking what I’d wanted for ages as I kissed him hungrily, a groan pouring into my mouth in response. Of all people, he should know how I reacted to a challenge.
He had my jeans and panties off before I even pulled my top over my head, and in quick order his shirt and pants were gone, boxers the only thing covering his massive bulge.
Last time I’d been the only one exposed, so every muscle of his body was new to me, a long, lean frame I couldn’t get enough of. I slid my hands across his wide chest, his skin on fire. Burning for me. I watched them as I trailed him, not daring to peek as he pulled his boxers down, cock jutting out to strike my stomach, hard and ready for me.
Tongues and lips collided as he pulled me into the living room toward the couch, falling with me on it in a menagerie of limbs. My legs spread wide, and he was inside in a single thrust, my body more than ready for him. It had been ready since he left, muscles remembering the hums of pleasure.
He made up for lost time, driving into me hard and fast, my legs in the air as we got lost in one another once again. Last time, he fucked me. This time, he was making love, showering me in it with everything he had. His thrusts were severe, but so were his caresses, enough love for a thousand years packed in every touch. He was worshipping me.
And as his fingers found my clit, I fell apart, his lips meeting my neck as I came undone, the world as I knew it blowing into a thousand pieces. He met me on the way down, coming just as ferociously, a delicious heat exploding within.
As soon as it started, it was over, the two of us laying in a pile of gasps and shaking bodies. His lips brushed against my temple just as a knock at the door sounded.
Rick.
I’d completely forgotten about him.
“One minute!” I called, mortified. I felt like a horny teenager caught red-handed.
“Expecting company?” Ethan asked as we stood, him handing me my bra as he slid his boxers on.
“Yeah, I’m heading to a lecture with a friend.” I was in a frenzy, fingers clumsily trying to set the clasp until he got sick of seeing me struggle and fastened it for me.
He stepped back to pull the rest of his clothing on, as I ran around doing the same, knowing there was no hiding what we’d done. Both of us looked throughly had.
“Will you be here when I get back?” We needed to talk. Using words. Not just our bodies.
He shook his head before sliding his shirt over it, hiding the delectable abs I had plans for later. “I have a flight to catch.”
My stomach twisted at his answer, and I froze mid-zip of my fly. “When will you be back?”
“In a few weeks.” He was furiously working with his belt, avoiding my eyes.
I choked on the breath I’d been holding. “A few weeks? Where are you going?”
“A few stops.” He righted his rumpled clothing and reached out to help with mine, but I slapped his hands away.
“Ethan. Answer me.” He owed me something. He couldn’t show up, have sex with me, and disappear again. Anger burned beneath my tongue at the realization he’d precisely planned on doing just that.
“I’ll be out of the country.” The words came out slowly as if he were working to calm a wild animal.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded, a torrent of emotions flooding through me. I wanted to scream, cry, and everything in between at the news.
“Well, you sorta pounced
me,” he replied, biting his lower lip before leaning forward to try to kiss me again.
I ducked his advance, turning to stalk to the door. He followed close behind, and as I opened the door, Rick met me with a smile that only widened when his eyes fell on Ethan over my shoulder. A smile that vanished as soon as Ethan hauled me back into the apartment, his fist connecting with Rick’s jaw.
Ethan
I broke my hand.
More specifically, I broke my right hand. As in, the hand I used to paint.
I knew it the instant it connected with that smiling bastard’s face, contorting the sparkling white teeth into a mouthful of blood, the man falling to the concrete with the single blow. Kee screamed, more so as I shut and locked the door with us inside, my body blocking the exit.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she screeched, desperately grabbing at the door handle.
“He’s following me. Call the police.” I couldn’t stick around, but I’d file a report before the flight and have him barred from her place and mine. I should’ve known better than to visit her with someone tailing me. I was such a fucking idiot.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, shoving against my side to try to move me. “That’s my friend, you psycho!”
“Your friend?” I asked, confused as all hell. He was the same motherfucker that had followed me into my building the night before. A reporter. A rat. I’d know those eyes anywhere.
“Yes! And you just punched him in the face!” she exploded, shaking with anger.
“Kee, he’s a reporter.” Jesus Christ. How was I supposed to talk my way out of this one?
“I’m aware! He writes articles for the Boston Bold, and you just plowed his face in like a damn ogre!” She reached for the handle again, but I didn’t budge.
“How do you know him?”
“Why does it matter? I don’t go around punching your friends in the face!” Her eyes were brimming with tears. I tried to brush one away but she flinched in fear, and for the first time ever, she was afraid of me.
“How do you know him?” I repeated, ready to tear him to pieces. I’d never been so angry. So out of control.
Kee knew it, too, shrinking away from me, walking backward into the living room. “I met him at work. He came in one day.”
“For what?” I snapped. She worked in the public records archive. What did she know? Had she known all along? Maybe she’d tipped him off. I took a step toward her, and she practically tripped over her own feet trying to get away, knocking a stack of textbooks off the coffee table in the process.
“He was researching for an assignment.”
“What was he looking for?” My blood felt like lava, my entire body boiling at her words. They found her. Or had she found me?
“He was asking about DMV and passport records,” she sputtered, reaching the kitchen as I followed close behind. She was scared, fleeing like a rabbit pursued by a wolf.
“And?” I slipped between her and her bedroom in one quick step as she hit the hallway, both hands falling on either side of the wall behind her, arms corralling her in place, trapping her like the rat she potentially was.
“I sent him away. They’re not available to the public.” Her lips trembled as she looked up at me, hazel eyes misted with tears. “Ethan, you’re scaring me. Please.”
I nuzzled her cheek, a sharp inhale of breath sounding from her lips at the contact. “I won’t hurt you,” I promised, pressing a kiss beneath her ear. “But they will. They’ll rip you apart, just like they’re trying to do to me.”
I could taste the salt of her tears as I trailed my lips back to hers, sampling them for what might be the last time. “I love you, Keely Doyle. I’ve wanted to say that for two years now. I love you, and you’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
More tears fell from her eyes as she stared back at me, sniffling the only sound from her for a long moment. “Then please don’t leave me.”
I ran my swelling knuckles along the plane of her cheek, sure I was witnessing my own heart imploding. “Loving you means leaving you.”
I wouldn’t let them chase her, too. One was tolerable. I’d gone one on one with a reporter before. The trouble came when two, three, or four found the trail. I had to pull it elsewhere. It’s the only way she could lead a normal life.
As expected, she fell apart at my words, her shaking hands falling on either side of my face, palms soft against the stubble. “Don’t talk like that. That’s crazy talk.”
I stared down at my world for one last time before kissing her forehead. “Stay in here. I’ll call the police and have him removed.”
I pulled away, but she followed close like a puppy at my side, not taking the warning seriously. “Ethan, I told you he’s my friend…”
“I said stay!” I bellowed, ready to lock her in the bedroom myself if I had to.
She scampered back toward the room herself, shutting the door with a loud slam but not before a sob escaped. One that cut through me like a knife through butter.
I studied the closed bedroom door for a long moment before heading to the front door, opening it to find her front landing clear, a spittle of blood left where the man once was.
* * *
I didn’t have time to stop at the hospital, boarding my flight two hours later at the last minute with my hand swelling more every minute. Nestled in coach between two snoring men, I asked the attendant for a cup of ice that remained on my knuckles the entire six-and-a-half-hour flight. I didn’t sleep, spending the time planning, chasing down options above the Atlantic.
Upon landing, I headed straight to the hospital, emerging an hour later with a new partial cast, cash payment covering my tracks. I took a taxi to my rental flat, a nondescript hole-in-the-wall joint that was perfect for blending in. It was there that things fell into place.
As soon as I turned my cell back on, messages came pouring in, all ignored while I set about insulating Kee. She needed protection in the meantime, protection I could secure with a few phone calls.
Next up was a private investigator hired to hunt the hunter. He might have thought he was slick cuddling up to someone close to me, but I had pockets deeper that his entire pathetic paper and then some. He might be hungry for the story, but I’d eat him alive before he even tasted a nibble.
From what I gathered on the Bold’s site, good old Rick had a hard-on for me for quite some time, nearly his entire bio dedicated to Ever conspiracy theories. Some observations were dead-on, pinning me as someone local to Boston, but others were far off, painting me as some sort of avant-garde personality.
I was determined to beat him at his own game, spending hours combing the web for everything there was to know about Richard Gray. In the end, I knew where he lived, where he worked, and the name of everyone in his immediate family. It was enough to file an order of protection for me through my attorney on the grounds of stalking. That in itself was enough to keep him from prying in the meantime. I’d have my attorneys fire off cease and desist letters for good measure, too. I’d follow the same route with the Boston Bold, and if Kee would allow it, I’d do the same for her.
It was a risk to so forcefully combat the offense head-on, but I had no other choice. Rick was the closest a threat had ever gotten. Only because I’d gotten lazy. But it was 9:00 AM in Boston, and Rick was about to encounter an assault worse than my fist once my attorneys completed everything. And if he tried to open his mouth, the legal squeeze would take the air right out of his lungs.
Keely
The police arrived a few minutes after Ethan left, the knock scaring me out of my mind. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve ignored the pounding, but I knew a police knock when I heard it, the telltale rap against the wood signaling I had to open up or else I’d regret it.
A pair of patrolmen were at my door with Rick whose bloodied lip had seen better days, the lower portion ballooning into shades of purple. They needed to speak with me about Rick’s assault report, but after everything, I on
ly let the officers in, telling Rick we’d have to talk another time before promptly shutting the door in his face.
In reality, I wasn’t planning on speaking to him again. While I didn’t know Ethan as well as I thought I did, I was sure he didn’t go around attacking people for fun. He was mad enough to see Rick at my place that I knew something was seriously wrong.
The officers were less than pleased that I wouldn’t give them Ethan’s name, more than miffed when I corrected them when they called him Ethan, insisting his name was Ian. Was lying wrong? Yes. Did I care? No. Ethan said Rick was following him. I wouldn’t give them a name to work with to do the job for him.
Once they left, the tears started again, and I cried myself to sleep on the couch curled in a ball, hoping Ethan would be there when I woke in the morning.
He wasn’t.
I called out of work, too on edge to sit at a desk all day. I washed away the horrors of the night in the shower, still hearing Ethan’s fist connecting with Rick’s face on a loop in my head, the crunch of bones distinct. I debated heading upstairs to Lil’s but didn’t want to drag her into my nonsense, so I got dressed to face the day alone, heading out into the street for a coffee and fresh air.
While I walked, I heard the obvious sound of camera clicks, a man rocking a pencil mustache and capris in front of me. “Um, excuse me?” I asked after five snaps, positive he was taking pictures of me. “What are you doing?”
“You’re Keely Doyle,” he said with a shrug, snapping two more photos, the flash temporarily blinding me.
I shielded my eyes, suddenly thankful I bothered to put a bra on for the short walk. “And you are?”
“Desmond.” Click.
“Ok, well, why are you taking pictures of me, Desmond?” I crossed my arms over my chest as I stepped around him. “I don’t know you.”
Click. “You’re Ever’s girlfriend, right?” Click.
