Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(77)

“And that’s another thing! Giving up this internship when you worked so hard to get it? What about law school? What about your future?”

“Now I’m the one getting whiplash. Aren’t you the one who told me to just quit, that this internship wasn’t important?”

“That was before you convinced me otherwise. A girl is entitled to change her mind.”

“Exactly.” I send her the best fake smile I can muster. “Which is exactly what I’ve done. Waitressing job, not internship.”

“You’re an idiot,” Tori tells me, leaving her coffee untouched as she shoves back from the table.

“No. I was an idiot. This time I’m being a realist.”

“Don’t you think there’s enough realism in the world? Ethan was giving you the fairy tale, Chlo. You should have grabbed on with both hands—it’s what any Disney princess would have done.”

“And look where it gets them.”

“Happily ever after?”

“More like being chased by the big, bad wolf. Or the sea witch. Or—”

“God, you’re so depressing!”

“That’s because I’m depressed.” I start down the hall toward my bedroom.

“Exactly! And if being with Ethan will make you less depressed, I think you should go for it!”

“Being with Ethan is what made me depressed in the first place.” I ignore the fact that she’s followed me to my bedroom, and start pulling clothes out of my closet, trying to figure out what one is supposed to wear to an interview at a place that is one step up from a titty bar. I can’t believe they’re the only place around that’s hiring.

“You’re impossible!” she says, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Impossible. An idiot. Wow, Tor, tell me how you really feel.”

“Believe me, I will.” She snatches my one and only mini-skirt out of my hand, tosses it on the ground. “You don’t want to do this.”

I deliberately misunderstand her. “I don’t want to interview for a job?”

She just rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Why don’t you take Miles up on his invitation to come visit him? He seemed sincere when he called to check on you yesterday.”

“Why would I want to go back there? Going to see Miles means going to see my parents and I’m so not up for that.”

“So just see your brother, then. Surely he doesn’t still live at home.”

“No, but my parents will find out and I just can’t face them.” Not now. Not after the huge mess I’ve made of everything.

“Well, then, I’ll come with you. I can be your bodyguard, keep them away.” She flexes her tiny arms. “I can take them.”

“I have no doubt that you could. But I don’t have any desire to see that.”

“You don’t have any desire to do anything these days, Chloe. That’s the point.”

“And you suddenly are full of ideas of what I should do and where I should do it! For someone who almost never goes home herself, you’re suddenly full of reasons as to why I should go back to Boston for a visit.”

To my surprise, Tori hems and haws, stumbles and stutters, all while turning a truly interesting shade of pink. She finally settles on, “That’s not true. I just know you’re hurting here and I don’t want to see it get worse.”

“I’m not sure it could get any worse,” I tell her honestly, sliding into a little sundress that makes my shoulders look good. I figure it can’t hurt at a job interview like this one.

“Oh, Chloe, sweetheart, things can always get worse.”

“There’s the pessimist I know and love!” I pat her cheek with mock enthusiasm. “I was afraid I’d lost you forever.”

She turns her head, tries to bite my fingers, but before I can do much more than dodge her snapping teeth, there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ve got it!” she yells, all but tearing down the hallway.

I think about following her, about fighting her for it, but it takes too much effort. Everything takes too much effort these days. It’s not a good sign.

Maybe I really am depressed.

When Tori doesn’t come find me again, I figure one of the neighbors has stopped by to see her. It happens a lot. But after I finish getting dressed—which only takes a couple of minutes since I’m not trying that hard to get this job, though I should be—I wander down to the kitchen and find Tori sitting there with a large knife posed over a package.

“What’d you order?” I ask as I debate whether I want to eat anything before the interview or not.

“Nothing. It’s for you. From Ethan.”

And then, under my horrified eyes, she plunges the knife straight through the packing tape.

“What’d you do that for?” I demand, rushing toward her and trying to take the knife. She refuses to yield.

“No, damn it. You act like you’re the only one affected by this whole thing and you’re not. One, because you’re so damned depressed I’m afraid you’re going to walk into traffic one day and not even pay attention to where you’re going. And two, I’m human and if I don’t get to see what’s in at least one of these boxes you keep getting, I’m going to lose my mind. I signed for this one, so I say this is it.”