Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(76)

“I’d already hurt you so much. How could I hurt you anymore?”

“And now this. You knew all along that you were the one who paid that money and you didn’t tell me. You let me be blindsided by your mother rather than trust me to understand. Rather than trust me to be able to look beyond what happened five years ago to what we have today.”

“How could I ask that of you? How could I tell you about how I betrayed you and then expect you to just live with it?”

“Because that’s what trust is! Telling the other person the hard shit and knowing that they’ll be there anyway. Knowing that they won’t give up, won’t walk away, no matter what mistake you’ve made.

“You haven’t done that. Not once.” I pause, take a breath. “How do you see that working in the future? You just omit things? You just don’t tell me stuff that might hurt us? You just let me find out in the hardest, most painful ways possible? And then tell me you love me and beg me to stay?”

Ethan starts to say something, to answer that, but in the end there’s nothing for him to say and he knows it. Instead, he just closes his mouth, shakes his head. Looks away.

“How many strikes do you think you deserve? How many chances am I supposed to give you?”

He shakes his head, still refuses to meet my eyes. “I don’t know.”
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“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say? After all this? That’s how you want to leave it? With you don’t know?”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. And that’s when I know. I can stay here forever, giving him chance after chance after chance, and it will never be enough.

“Good-bye, Ethan.” I lean forward and brush a soft kiss across his cheek. Then I pick up my backpack and walk down the hall and straight out the front door. Then I keep walking down the hill, praying with each step that Ethan will come after me. That he won’t let me go.

But he does, without so much as a whimper of protest. When I get to the wine-making facility, I ask for Rodrigo. It takes a couple of minutes for him to come around to me, and when he sees my backpack his eyes widen.

“You’re leaving already, Chloe?”

“I am. I was hoping you could give me a ride to the airport.”

“Of course I can. But where’s Ethan?”

I don’t know how to answer that, so I don’t. I just shrug a little and pretend that it’s an actual answer. Rodrigo doesn’t ask again.





Chapter Twenty-three


“I’m thinking of calling the doctor. Seeing if I can get one of those collar things for my neck.” Tori sits down slowly at the kitchen table, rubbing the back of her neck as she does.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, eyeing her with concern. “Did you sleep wrong?”

“No. I’m just afraid I have whiplash.”

“From what? You weren’t—” I break off as it registers what she’s talking about. “Seriously? I was worried about you.”

“And I’m worried about you. This back and forth with Ethan is so crazy and convoluted that I’m seriously beginning to get whiplash. You keep pushing and pulling me in different directions. You love him, you hate him. You love him, you hate him. I never know which side of the fence I’m supposed to be on at any given moment.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Besides, I’ve never said I hated Ethan and I never said you had to be angry at him with me. Don’t be throwing your own issues back on me.”

“I wish I could give you my issues and take yours for a while.” She pours milk into the cup of coffee I slam down beside her on the table. “Because, believe me, no matter how screwed up I am, I’m smart enough to see a good thing when it comes along.”

“A good thing? Now I’m the one with whiplash. You’ve gone back and forth between loving and hating Ethan ever since I met him.”

“That’s because I’m being yanked around by your yo-yoing emotions. But come on, Chloe, he’s a decent guy. More decent than most. The least you can do is see what he’s sent you this time.” She gestures to the unopened box sitting next to the door. It’s another present—one of six that has come since I got back from Napa. Or, it could just be the same present. I don’t know. I didn’t open the others and I don’t plan on opening this one.

I mean, why torture myself? Whatever’s in there can’t solve the problems Ethan and I have, so why bother with it when I’m sure I’ll like it? Why torture myself when I have no plans to accept another gift from Ethan, ever?

Once the post office opens, I’ll send it back to him just like I have all the others. I should probably just start refusing them—this mailing them back is wreaking havoc on my budget. But Tori keeps beating me to the door and she’s always “very happy to accept a package.”

“I need to get dressed,” I tell her, finishing my scalding coffee in one long, painful sip. “I have an interview in an hour.” For a waitressing job at a place that requires the skimpiest uniforms ever. Not that I’ve told Tori that. She’d have a fit, demand that I stay and worry about paying the rent later. But I’ve been mooching long enough, and now that I’ve walked away from my internship with Frost Industries, I need to do something. Not just for the paycheck, but for my own peace of mind. Sitting around here and staring at the walls for the last six days has made me more than a little stir-crazy.