Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(14)

I know you’re hurt and scared—you have every right to be—but I’m asking you to take another chance on me. On us. You took one once and I hurt you because I wasn’t strong enough to take care of you, wasn’t strong enough to trust our love to get us through.

This time, I won’t hurt you. This time I’ll put you first no matter what. This time I’ll take care of you the way I promised to all those weeks ago.

You are the bravest woman I know, and though you’ll argue with me about that statement (you always do), I assure you that I mean every word of it. I love you, Chloe, so much more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone.

I’m not asking for forgiveness and I’m not asking for you to simply move past the pain and rage inside of you. I’m asking only that you give me a chance—to love you, to take care of you, to help you through whatever comes next.

I love you, Chloe, and I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk.

Please let me love you again.

Ethan



I read the letter several times, Ethan’s words breaking over me like an early morning thunderstorm breaks across the dawn. I’m not sure what to feel about what he has to say, any more than I know what to feel about him. Sure, it’s a sweet letter, but it doesn’t tell me anything more than I knew already.

He lied to me. He’s sorry. He promises not to do it again.

But does it matter? His lies, his apology? Does any of it matter at all when the past stretches between us like a nightmare? Like a bloody battlefield that I can’t escape from? Like a specter I’m terrified will haunt me for the rest of my life?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now, except that if I don’t leave right now, I’ll be late for work.

Carefully, very carefully, I fold Ethan’s letter and slip it back into the envelope. I put the envelope in the inside pocket of my briefcase. And then, after taking several deep, steadying breaths, I put the car in gear—it goes smoothly, without its usual hesitation—and pull out of the parking space.

As I turn onto Prospect Street, I pretend my stomach doesn’t hurt. I pretend I’m not terrified of what comes next. I pretend, just for a little while, that everything is okay even though I know that nothing will ever be okay again.





Chapter Five


I’m a mess by the time I get to work, totally unsure of what I expect to happen next.

Is Ethan going to be waiting in the parking lot for me?

Are my personal items going to be boxed up and sitting on my desk?

Is everyone going to be staring at me knowingly as I walk to my cubicle?

Maybe all of the above?

It turns out that none of those things actually happen, though. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary happens at all. I park in the same spot I’ve always parked in. Walk the same scenic path to the building that houses Frost Industries’ legal department. Dodge the same snide comments from Rick, the second-year intern who has made my life hell since my second day on the job, when I was assigned to the big case that he thought he deserved to cover.

Logically, I know that it makes sense that nothing has changed. After all, it’s not like Ethan would broadcast to the entire company what happened at his house yesterday. But at the same time, it seems unreal. Inside me, everything feels different—I feel different—so I can’t wrap my head around the fact that the cataclysmic events of this weekend, events that nearly broke me, have changed nothing else in my life at all. It’s not like I expected the earth to rotate off its axis or anything, but still. Something should feel different, something should be different—besides my relationship with Ethan. How, after everything that happened between us, can my role at Frost Industries be exactly the same as it was when I left the office late Friday afternoon?

But it is, it seems. Exactly the same.

Same desk, same case folders on my desk, same to-do list tacked to the wall of my cubicle. As I settle into my desk and boot up my laptop, I try to take comfort in that fact.
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It almost works.

It probably would work, in fact, if I didn’t spend the whole day looking over my shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Ethan to seek me out or call me or send a message for me to report to his office.

But, except for the letter I found in my car this morning, there’s nothing from him at all. At least, not through any of the normal work channels. And since I’m still too chicken to turn my phone on and see if he called back or texted after Tori told him off last night, email and interoffice messaging is all I have to go on.

It’s a bad day for so many reasons, and I’m nowhere near as productive as I normally am. I still get work done on the Trifecta merger—the takeover bid that Ethan had me assigned to when I first started at Frost Industries, before I had a clue that there was going to be something personal between us—but it’s not as much as I need to get done. Especially considering the fact that I took yesterday off.

I stay late to compensate, determined to clear my in-box and make headway on the final case research the attorneys need to blend Trifecta’s intellectual property with Frost Industries’. The office quiets down at five and by seven-thirty I’m all alone. Which should be exactly the impetus I need to get things finished, but without the buzz of my co-workers, all I can think of is Ethan and the disaster everything has become.