Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I swallowed hard. “I don’t really know what to say to that,” I admitted. “But I am glad you’re getting the help you needed. I think everyone deserves that.”
“It’s why you’re a great life coach,” he said, and I tilted my head. “I’ve seen you,” he continued. “On social media. With your…boyfriend?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I guess I have you to thank for going into that field.”
“I wish to fuck that wasn’t the case, even though from what I’ve read about, you’re the best there is.”
I shrugged. Wild. This was absolutely wild. I never expected to see him again, let alone like this…on some path to recovery. I hope it stuck, but that didn’t mean I was about to befriend him. I may have healed most of the wounds he’d inflicted, but I wasn’t wholly healed. I didn’t know if I’d ever be.
Pedestrians hustled by us, hurrying to and from the shops all around us, and I moved out of the way, as close to the store window as I could get to not be in the heavy foot-traffic path.
“I won’t keep you,” he said. “I just saw you and couldn’t not say anything. Not when I knew I’d never get a chance again. I didn’t deserve your time or attention, but I really appreciate you hearing me out. If I could take back…everything, I would.”
Jesus, I’d fallen into the twilight zone. But in my career field, I was always the one boasting the hope for healing from trauma, the hope for second chances. Hadn’t I told Ethan a dozen times that he was more than the aspects he had a hard time controlling? Not that he was anything like Jarred, but if anyone could appreciate the power of healing through better mental health and education, it was me.
“You sound good, Jarred,” I said. “I really hope you keep at it.”
“I will,” he said, determined. “And I hope you—”
Someone stumbled into Jarred, flinging him forward and crashing into me.
I yelped as his muscled mass shoved me into the window, Jarred trying to brace himself against the glass so he didn’t crush me entirely.
The person yelled sorry without stopping, and Jarred glared at him over his shoulder, but glanced back at me.
“You okay—”
“Get your fucking hands off her!” Ethan’s voice was lethal, sharp enough to cut.
One second Jarred was there, the next he wasn’t.
Ethan ripped him away from me, his eyes narrowed as he didn’t hesitate to swing. His fist connected with Jarred’s jaw, the audible crunch turning my stomach.
“Ethan!” I yelled, but he didn’t hear me. Didn’t see me. Didn’t feel my hands on his back as I tried and failed to stop the second hit. “Ethan, stop!”
“You fucking did enough to her you piece of shit,” he growled, swinging again. Jarred didn’t fight back, only tried to block him, but Ethan was relentless. “You never get to talk to her again, you hear me? Never.”
Crunch.
Blood splattered the pavement from the hit, and Jarred went slack, his eyes rolling back in his head as he hit the ground.
“Omigod,” I gasped, kneeling down to check on Jarred. “You knocked him out.” I looked up at Ethan, but he wasn’t there. He was somewhere else, lost and distant behind cold eyes as he looked down at Jarred.
I scanned the crowd around us, tears filling my eyes as I noted the dozen or more phones out and aimed at the scene.
Shit, shit, shit.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted a familiar face forcing their way through the crowd.
“Cross!” I shouted, and he upped his pace, downright shoving people out of his way, Gareth on his heels. They both took in the scene in a matter of blinks.
“Are you okay?” Cross asked.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Please, get Ethan out of here.” I eyed the phones, and Cross and Gareth nodded, immediately grabbing an arm each and tugging Ethan backward.
“Alex,” Ethan said, blinking a few times as the fog cleared from his eyes. My heart broke at the utter devastation that rippled there. “Alex…”
“Just get him out of here,” I urged Cross and Gareth, not wanting anything else to happen, anything else to trigger Ethan, to create another scene he couldn’t come back from.
I’d already triggered enough damage for him tonight.
Damage I might not be able to fix.
Damage that could cost him the thing he loved most—his team.
My fault, it was all my fault.
And as Cross and Gareth moved him out of sight, I had the sinking sensation that I’d lost him forever because of it.
CHAPTER 17
Ethan
“Okay, thanks, Declan,” Asher said from somewhere across the room. “I’ll let him know.”
Cross sat beside me, forcing a bottle of water into my hand. “Drink this.”
Robotically, I opened the bottle and took a swig, barely noting the pain in my right hand. I glanced down after a few swallows, spotting the blood there.