Countdown: Ethan

by Boniface, Allie

  He considered telling them exactly where he would move them instead, but an argument up the block made them all turn.

  “Son of a bitch thinks he can put his hands on me?” A door slammed, someone shouted, and two figures stumbled out onto the sidewalk. Sean could make out their features in the half-light: two guys in their late twenties, one with an angry grimace and a shock of carrot-colored hair, the other slighter in build, with short-cropped dark hair. Neither resembled the jackass who’d played hero in Sarah’s apartment earlier.

  “And I’m the one who gets thrown out?” Under the streetlights, Sean saw two circles of pink in the speaker’s freckled face. They grew brighter each time he yelled, and spittle flew into the air. His friend said nothing. The two of them wove toward Pat O’Brien’s.

  “Just ‘cause you look like a fuckin’ linebacker doesn’t mean you can break my damn hand.”

  Sean kept his eyes trained on the ground and continued to listen.

  “What the hell is a hot blonde like that doing with a guy like him, anyway?”

  Fuckin’ linebacker.

  Hot blonde.

  Sean stepped out of line and traced the direction the two guys had come from. Only two clubs sat on this side of the street before the next light. One had a scattering of people inside, and it took less than a minute for him to see that Dakota wasn’t one of them. That meant it was the next one. It had to be. He slowed in front of the window and craned his head to see inside the club. A sea of faces. Long hair, dark hair, broad shoulders, complexions of all colors. And a shaved head that towered over the rest of the crowd. He smiled. There you are. He couldn’t make out the face, but odds were it belonged to the guy who’d had the balls to mess with him earlier.

  Only one way to find out.

  A sign above the door read “Piano Alley.” Music jumped inside, fast and furious. Despite the crowd, no one waited to get inside. He smiled. This was the place. Even stronger than before, his instincts honed in and told him he’d found her. He stepped up to the bouncer, who gave him a cursory once-over and waved him inside. He could barely see through the throng, but it didn’t matter. He’d take his time and work the room. No lines, no waiting. Sean crossed the threshold.

  It’s about damn time.

  Ronnie took another break from the keyboard, and recorded music bounced off the walls in his place. Outside on the patio, Dakota finished her drink and stole a glance at Ethan. She wanted to know so much about him. She wanted to ask about the sadness in the corners of his eyes, the sentences he started and didn’t finish. She wanted to take his hand. She wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted something she didn’t know how to ask for or articulate. And part of her also wanted to leave, before she got emotionally entangled with someone she’d never see after tonight.

  SOMEWHERE ACROSS TOWN, a clock chimed. “So it’s my turn to ask,” she said when the last chime faded.

  “Uh oh. Ask what?”

  “I told you about my heartache.” Well, most of it, anyway. “Now help me understand why a good-looking guy like you is here without a date.”

  All the light in his face faded, and she immediately regretted asking. “Never mind. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s okay. It’s a fair question. I...um...I don’t go out a lot.” He paused. “I’m trying to get over someone too.” Another pause, longer this time. “I don’t date much.”

  “Since you hit the ripe old age of thirty?”

  He grabbed his chest with one hand, miming pain. “I’m twenty-nine, thank you very much.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” With the graying temples and sober face, she’d placed him older than that.

  “I’ll take that to mean I come across as mature.”

  “That’s exactly how I meant it.”

  “How long since you’ve been with someone?”

  He looked down at his hands. “Almost a year.”

  “Must have been serious.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Well, I’m glad you came out tonight. I’m glad we met.” She paused. “Though to be honest, I hadn’t planned on sitting here for hours and talking to you. I hadn’t planned on meeting anyone at all.” Funny how sometimes the best plans took matters into their own hands.

  Ethan gave her a crooked grin. “I know what you mean.”

  She shivered as a cool breeze danced through the patio.

  “Want to go inside?”

  She nodded and stood at the same time he did. Inside, Ronnie returned to the piano and began to play a blues song, slow and sultry. They walked across the patio without speaking. The crowd of people near the door lumped together and she had trouble seeing through to the other side. Behind her, Ethan’s hand landed in the small of her back. Heat. Pressure. Protection. And something else that made her turn with surprise into his arms.

  In the moment before she knew what was coming, Ethan bent down and kissed her. His hands moved to her face. His mouth landed squarely on hers, hot and hungry; his tongue parted her lips almost before she realized it.

  Oh wow, this wasn’t supposed to happen...was her first thought.

  I want him to kiss me like this all night was her second.

  She leaned into him, into the solidness of him against her, and was amazed at the feeling of rightness that swept over her. A whimper escaped the back of her throat. She dropped her hands to his waist, drawing him closer. There was attraction, and then there was inevitability. There was the hot jolt of desire that pulled you toward someone because you liked their eyes or their smile or the way they filled out a pair of jeans. There was the want that warmed beds late at night because company was better than being alone.

  And then there was something beyond the physical, beyond the way two bodies fit together. There was chemistry that created itself from pieces of conversation, from skin brushing skin by accident, from the air surging between two people who were simply supposed to be together. There was a strange working of the universe that led you to someone you’d never envisioned and then couldn’t imagine being without.

  Sensations too strong to ignore slipped into her veins. She swayed and wondered if it were the crowd pushing her or the ground wavering beneath her. Dakota closed her eyes and gave herself up to the kiss and the way it turned her mouth into an animal all its own.

  His palms pressed against the small of her back. His tongue was inside her, and he was tasting and whispering and asking a question she didn’t know how to answer. She was on fire. She wanted this, all of this, more than this. She let one hand brush the front of his jeans and found a zipper that strained against a rock-hard cock. This guy might look like a mild-mannered Clark Kent, but there was nothing but Man of Steel pressed up against her right now. He brushed the hair from her cheek and nipped her bottom lip, and a lightning bolt moved straight from her toes up to the crown of her head.

  Let’s find a room, she almost said. Or a dark corner. Even the back seat of a car.

  But with a sharp, sudden inhale, he pulled away from her. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Dakota’s lips blazed. Her head spun. She stumbled and reached for the wall behind her. “Don’t be.” I wanted it just as much as you. Maybe more.

  Before she could get the words out, he jerked back as though she’d burned him. He stuffed both hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked anguished “Oh, God, Dakota. I’m so sorry. I shouldn‘t have done that.”

  “It’s just a kiss. Not the end of the world.” Maybe the beginning of something, on the other hand, but—

  She took a closer look. The confusion in his eyes looked like more than a kiss gone wrong. “What’s the matter?”

  Ethan stiffened and looked beyond her. “I should have told you the truth before. I—there’s someone else.”

  “What? I thought you said...what the hell does that mean? You have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? A fiancée?”

  He scratched his jaw, and his gaze dropped to his toes.

  “What the hell’s going on, Ethan? J
ust tell me.”

  He lifted his chin until his gaze met hers. But then she was sorry, because the heartbreak glowing there made her want to step back again. “I’m married.”

  All the air sucked out of her lungs at the word. For a long moment, Dakota simply stood in the middle of the patio. Someone jostled her from behind, but she barely noticed. Her mouth fell open, then closed, then looked for a sentence or a word and found nothing.

  Married...

  “You’re...” Dakota checked the third finger of Ethan’s left hand, the way she had some two hours earlier out of habit. No ring. Sean hadn’t worn one either, but somehow she’d known with him. She always knew. Working in the restaurant had honed her radar, and she’d learned to sniff out the unfaithful years ago. But Ethan? Married? Impossible.

  “You said you were getting over someone. That’s not the same as being married to someone.” She raised one hand to her mouth. Besides, that kiss... She ran one finger over her lips. It hadn’t been polished. It hadn’t been suave or dominating, the way she’d come to understand married men to be when they swooped in to claim intimacy. It had been...wanting. Searching. Hungry. In all the right ways. She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t.

  “I don’t—” Dakota cleared her throat. “I didn’t think—how the hell did you forget to mention the detail of a wife?” Separated or not, divorce papers in the works or not, Ethan should have told her. How dare he sit on the patio for hours, listen to her spill her heart about Sean, and pretend as though he had nothing at all to hide? Thoughts tumbled through her mind, gathering momentum and fueling her embarrassment. Dakota’s cheeks grew hot, and before she could stop herself, she slapped him.

  Even above the music she could hear it, the flat of her hand striking skin. Heads snapped toward them. The look in Ethan’s eyes changed from guilt to surprise. Then pain. His jaw twitched and he swallowed. But he didn’t say anything, not even as the imprint of her hand turned red against his cheek. Conversation halted around them. One guy laughed. Dakota didn’t care. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned before they betrayed her.

  “Dakota, wait.”

  Hell if that’s gonna happen. She fled into the dark of the club, pushing people out of the way. This time, she didn’t care how many feet she stepped on or how many drinks she spilled.

  “Dakota!”

  I’m an idiot. First Sean and now this. Can’t I meet anyone who’ll just tell me the truth? Why hadn’t she seen it? Why had she fallen for another guy’s charms? She was a fool, plain and simple. She didn’t even deserve to date, because obviously she couldn’t tell when a guy was telling the truth or lying through his wolfish grin.

  Blindly, she made her way to the front entrance. She needed air. She needed to escape. Outside, she saw Sarah and Gunnar standing close together and laughing. Thank God. They could leave. They could go hole up in Sarah’s apartment and wait for morning to come. Behind her, Ethan called her name, but she ignored him. Go away. Just leave me alone. Please.

  First her boyfriend had betrayed her, and now a guy she’d just met. Why couldn’t one hour in this damn day turn out right?

  Midnight

  Ethan cursed himself as Dakota fled. “Idiot,” he said out loud. “I’m a complete idiot.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. With the other, he reached up to make sure she hadn’t knocked his jaw into next Tuesday. He hadn’t seen the kiss coming, that was for sure. He’d just reached out to steady her against the pressing crowd. He’d wanted to make sure some drunken fool didn’t fall into her, step on her feet, shove her out of the way. But then he’d felt the shift of her back against his palm, and the way she fit against him, the way the music stirred something inside him... God, it had overwhelmed him.

  And he wasn’t sorry at all.

  I haven’t wanted a woman in over a year. Haven’t wanted to look at one, talk to one—let alone kiss one who looks like Dakota, who listens to me even though I’m not sure I have anything to say...

  In that instant, Ethan hated himself. Here he’d met a decent woman for the first time in forever, and he’d screwed things up by telling her something that wasn’t even true. He wasn’t married, technically speaking, anyway. Yet he’d fallen back onto the same old excuse, the one he used every time a woman approached him or a friend tried to set him up or his therapist suggested he join a singles’ group.

  Can’t. I’m married.

  The thing was, it had never felt like a lie before. Ethan had worn his wedding ring for six months after the funeral because his finger felt naked without it. He was still married in some space in his heart that would always belong to Lydia. So telling it to other people felt like the only truth he knew. It felt like the only way he could define himself, even after all this time. I’m married. I’m a husband. I have a wife.

  Until tonight.

  Ethan moved his jaw from side to side and listened to it pop. He couldn’t blame Dakota for slapping him. Or for running away. He called after her, wanting to explain, but she disappeared before he could stop her. The crowd, larger than ever, closed in behind her, and after a minute he thought maybe he should give her some space until he figured out what the hell to say. So he found the first dark corner he saw, by the back exit. A few feet away, a fry cook on break sucked at a cigarette. Ethan took some deep breaths. He tried not to think of the irony that, only that afternoon, he had joked about Howie’s luck with women, about how that guy usually ended up on the wrong end of an angry slap. And now here stood Ethan, no better.

  I’ve got to tell her the truth. He didn’t know what he’d say or how he’d explain. But the memory of Dakota’s lips against his drove away all other thoughts. Replacing them was a stark, simple need. Again he tasted her. Again he breathed her in as though she were the first life he’d felt in ages. Ethan left the fry cook to his red nicotine dot in the darkness and strode toward the front door.

  The bouncer slumped on his stool, beefy arms crossed and eyes narrowed to slits. Ethan scanned the sidewalk outside. Had Dakota and her friends left already? “Excuse me.”

  The bouncer’s eyes opened half an inch. “Yeah?”

  “Did you see two girls and a guy leave a few minutes ago?”

  The guy re-crossed his arms and chuckled. “Buddy, you gotta be kidding me. I been watching people walk in and out of this place all night.”

  “Tall black guy,” Ethan amended. “The one woman’s tiny, blonde. The other—” He wasn’t sure how to describe Dakota. Brown curly hair? A smile that takes your breath away? Eyes of different colors, depending on the light and how close she lets you get?

  The bouncer shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”

  Disappointment lodged inside Ethan’s chest. He’d blown it, utterly and completely. He’d kissed her, told her he was married, and then let her leave. Of course Dakota was gone. Why would she stick around to listen to his pathetic explanations?

  Then the universe shifted again, and he caught a break. He was about to go back inside when he spotted them standing near the curb. Gunnar was beside Sarah and Dakota. Sarah had one arm around her friend’s waist. Dakota was crying. Because of him? Shit. Ethan let out a breath, rushed outside and almost tripped in his haste to get to her. “I need to talk to you.”

  “What? No. Forget it, no.” Her eyes had turned puffy with tears.

  “Let me explain.”

  “I don’t care what you have to say,” she said. “Just leave.”

  And he almost did. Hell, that’s what he’d spent most of his life doing, fading into the background. He was good at stepping to the side and letting people move around him. Since Lydia’s death, he’d practically perfected the act.

  But not this time. His gaze flicked up to Gunnar, who remained a few feet away from them, unsmiling. Fine. If Ethan had to tell her everything out here, in front of the whole world, he would. “It’s not what you think. I...it came out wrong.”

  “Oh, really? How does being married come out wrong?” She turned around, but this
time her eyes blazed. “Let me guess. You’re not ‘really’ married” She made quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “Or you’re just married on paper but not in your heart. Or she left you last year but you can’t bring yourself to sign the divorce decree. You’re separated. You’re sleeping in separate bedrooms. Or living in separate apartments. Or you haven’t found the right time to tell her you don’t love her anymore. Or it’s financially messy. Which is it? Did I guess yet?”

  He didn’t speak. Hell. How many men had wronged her in the past? Maybe he wasn’t the only one in pain.

  The anger in her face softened the tiniest degree. “Fine. You have two minutes. This had better be one hell of an explanation.”

  “Can we go somewhere?” He looked around and pointed at a bare space of pavement a few feet away. She shrugged, but she followed him, and when he turned around again, he tried not to let the scent of her perfume erase the words he needed to say.

  She spoke before he could, biting off the words and giving them sharp, angry edges. “You could have mentioned your whole situation earlier. Like, I don’t know, before you kissed me.” She paused. “You’re not wearing a ring.”

  Ethan cracked his knuckles and eyed the smooth skin on his third finger. The faint white tan line on his left hand had faded in the last few months, another reminder gone. True. I put it away a while ago. Now it just sits in a box in my bottom dresser drawer, so I don’t have to see it every time I get a pair of socks. So I don’t have to remember.

  “Lydia,” he began.

  “That’s your wife’s name?”

  “Was my wife’s name. She died thirteen months ago.” Thirteen months and five weeks. I stopped counting days sometime back in February. The words tumbled out, awkward and painful, but he finished the sentence, and for that he was glad.

  “Oh, Ethan.” Her ire vanished. Dakota placed a hand on his wrist. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I’m so—”

  “Please don’t.” He couldn’t tell her how many times he’d heard those words. I’m sorry. Since the diagnosis. Since the operation. Since the chemo. Since the funeral. I’m sorry. So sorry. He never knew what to say in return. Thank you? It didn’t seem exactly right. “I didn’t tell you because I never bring it up right away when I meet someone. It’s hard to talk about, still. But I should have.”