Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(3)

Ethan, chasing after me and f*cking me up against the wall like we were the last two people on earth.

For a moment, just a moment, my body responds to the memory of being in his arms. Of having him inside me. Maybe he really didn’t know about Brandon when this thing between us started. Maybe he’s telling the truth. He’s never lied to me before.

This time when my knees tremble it’s from desire as much as it is from pain.

From addiction as much as it is from sorrow.

My eyes lock with his storm-tossed blue ones, as I try to decide what the truth is.

Try to decide what matters, and what doesn’t.

But the truth is, everything matters now—and the past most of all. Trying to pretend otherwise will only make it worse. Because being here with Ethan, knowing what I know, brings everything that happened before rushing back in stark clarity. I can’t run from it, can’t hide. It’s all right here, in my head. In my heart. In my soul.

The rape.

My parents’ betrayal and subsequent sellout.

Brandon’s delight in winning and the obnoxiousness that went along with it.

The months and years of being hassled, of being groped in the stairwell at school by his oh-so-privileged friends, of being called a slut and a whore and a million other names I’ve tried so hard to forget.

Of never feeling safe anywhere.

“You knew last night.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

He opens his mouth, starts to say something, closes it again. He looks as sick as I feel. “No.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but then there really isn’t anything else to say, is there? His brother raped me. Ethan’s brother raped me.

My stomach churns and for a second I’m afraid I’m going to be sick.

But I’m not that girl anymore, not the weak, scared little freshman who used to run to the bathroom and throw up because she couldn’t handle the bullying or the fear. I’m not the girl who was so desperate for her parents’ approval that she let them browbeat her into hiding the truth, into selling out.

No, I walked away from her forever when I left home and came here for college. When I started building my own life on my own terms.

I will be damned if I end up right back inside of her, trapped and terrified, just because Ethan lied to me. Just because Brandon has made a sudden and unwelcome reappearance in my life.

“I need to go.”

“Chloe, please.” He reaches for me again.

“Don’t touch me!” The words come out half sob, half shriek and Ethan freezes mid-reach. It’s the first time I’ve raised my voice since this nightmare began. “I need you to leave me alone. I need—”

My voice breaks and I turn away, start picking my clothes up off the floor. I begin to pull them on, but then realize I’ll have to take my robe off for that and the last thing I want to be right now is naked in front of Ethan Frost. Especially when I’ve already laid myself bare in front of him every way that I can.

I turn and walk toward the bathroom with jerky, uncoordinated steps. I keep expecting him to stop me, keep expecting to feel his hand on my shoulder or his arm around my waist. But he doesn’t follow me, doesn’t so much as move a muscle in my direction. Hell, I’m not sure he could, even if he wanted to. He looks as frozen as I feel, like he isn’t even breathing.

I know I’m not. Not properly. Not the way I should be.

But it’s hard to take a breath when you feel the weight of your whole life—past, present, future—pressing on your chest, slowly crushing down on you.

It’s even harder to breathe when you realize that nothing is as it seems—and that it may never be again.





Chapter Two


The bathroom door closes behind me and I sag against it, its support the only thing keeping me upright at the moment.

There’s a part of me that wants to scream. To cry and rage and throw things. To shatter everything in this too big, too luxurious bathroom until it looks as broken as I feel.

But there’s another part of me that just wants out of here. Away from Ethan. Away from the lies and the confusion and the pain. Away from Brandon and the new carnage he’s brought into my life.

Tears roll slowly down my face and I dash them away impatiently. I’m not going to cry. Not here, not now, when Brandon is still lurking around. He broke me once. I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of cracking me open all over again. I won’t be Humpty Dumpty, not for him. Not for anyone. Not after how far I’ve already come.

For long seconds, I concentrate on my too-erratic breathing. On forcing oxygen into my too-tight lungs. It isn’t easy, and more than once I have to fight back a sob, but eventually I can take a deep breath. Eventually, I have my emotions under control. Or at least a semblance of them.

Dropping my robe on the cold tile, I dress quickly, not bothering to look in the mirror. I tell myself it’s because right now my appearance is the last thing on my mind, but the truth is so much more complicated than that. And so much more basic.

I’m afraid of what I’ll see if I look in that goddamned mirror. Afraid that between last night and this morning, the new fractures will be all too evident. And I can’t have that, sure as hell can’t see it. Not if I’m going to walk out of this bathroom, down the stairs and out to my car. Not if I’m going to hold my head up and look right past Ethan, right through Brandon.