Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(6)

The crack inside me deepens at his words, breaks me wide open. I can barely stay upright under the onslaught.

But I do stay upright.

I do keep walking.

I don’t answer him.

There’s a part of me that can’t help but respond to the order—and the plea—in Ethan’s voice, but I ignore that part. Lock it down so deep inside of myself that I may never find it again.

Which is exactly how I want it. I might not know much right now, but I know this. There is no way I’m getting in that car with Ethan. No way I’m giving him another chance to, however inadvertently, rip me to pieces.

I turn the corner onto Prospect, one of the main streets that runs through La Jolla. I don’t look at Ethan, but I know he makes the turn with me because suddenly there’s a spate of loud honking. He’s still pacing me, despite now being on a street where he should be driving at least forty miles an hour.

A particularly strident horn sounds, loud and long. It’s not until it finally stops that I hear Ethan cursing viciously.

It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to glance at him out of the corner of my eye. But I’m not that weak. Not anymore. Not ever again.

The honking stops abruptly and since I’m staring straight ahead I can’t miss Ethan suddenly burning rubber up the street.

That didn’t take long. Not that I’m surprised. He’s never been the most patient guy.

A new wave of agony sweeps over me, drags me under. I don’t struggle against it—I learned long ago that some things can’t be fought. Can’t be beaten. They can only be endured.
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Forcing myself to look away from the Tesla’s taillights, I once again concentrate on walking, just walking. The faster I get home, the faster this whole nightmare will be over.

But I haven’t gone very far—about a block and a half—before I see Ethan striding purposefully down the street toward me. I flinch away when he gets close, though he makes no move to reach for me.

He catalogues my instinctive movement, his eyes darkening to midnight blue as he very deliberately tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I won’t touch you,” he tells me in a voice that sounds like gravel. “I won’t talk to you, won’t do anything else to upset you. But one way or another, I’m going to make sure that you get home safely, so you might as well accept it.”

“I’m not your problem anymore.” The words slip past my lips before I know I’m going to say them.

“You were never a problem,” he answers, his voice warm and steady and familiar. So familiar. It’s the same voice he uses when he cuddles me in bed. When he washes me in the shower. When he tells me he loves me.

Another wave of agony rolls through me and I walk faster. I can see Tori’s condominium complex in the distance and for a moment I’m afraid it’s a mirage. I’m that desperate to get to it—and away from Ethan.

I start running without making the conscious decision to do so. The hot pavement scrapes against the bottom of my feet, but I don’t give a shit right now. Tears are burning behind my eyes, my whole body is shaking and my chest is so tight that I’d think I was having a heart attack if I didn’t know better. I’m one tiny step from falling apart and I’m not going to do that on one of the busiest streets of La Jolla, with Ethan Frost and a million tourists looking on.

By the time I get to the front gates of the condominium, cold sweat is pouring down my back and my breath is coming out in strangled gasps. I’d like to blame it on the run, but I know better. So does Ethan, who’s watching me with pained eyes and a tightly clenched jaw.

I fumble with the key, try to get the front gate open, but my hands are trembling too hard for me to even get it in the lock. Ethan reaches for me, tries to take the key.

“Don’t!” It’s part gasp, part screech, and all batshit crazy. I don’t care, though, not when it gets the job done and he takes a step back.

“Chloe, please. I just want to—”

“I don’t give a shit what you want!” The words are garbled—my tongue feels thick and clumsy in my mouth—but that doesn’t matter to me. Nothing does but getting in my goddamn building and getting the f*ck away from Ethan Frost.

Miraculously, the key slides into the lock at the same moment my control breaks. I shove the gate open, and make a run for it.

Ethan calls my name as the gate clatters shut behind me, but I’m too far gone to care. Too far gone to do anything but wrap my arms around myself as I shatter into a million pieces.

Turns out Humpty Dumpty has nothing on me.





Chapter Three


Tori jumps up from her spot on the couch the second I slam into the condo.

“Chloe?” she asks, the look of expectation on her face turning to horror as my legs give out and I tumble roughly to the ceramic tile of our entryway.

“Chlo?” She crosses to me then, leans down to help me up, but I don’t grab on to the hand she offers. I can’t. Everything hurts and right now, just breathing is all I can handle.

“Chloe, what’s wrong?” When I still don’t respond, she drops onto the floor beside me, her voice growing more urgent with every word she speaks. “What’s going on? Are you hurt? Did you have an accident—”

I laugh then, a harsh, hysterical sort of sound that is torn from deep inside me. It hurts my chest even as it hangs in the air around us.