by Nikki Ash
“I’m not mad at you,” I tell her once she’s settled down and ready to listen.
“You ran out of the bathroom like your butt was on fire.” Her bottom lip juts out in an adorable pout.
“I was caught up in the moment,” I admit. “Your innocence… is new to me.”
“Because the women you’re usually with would’ve undressed you themselves,” she says with a frown, looking away. “You must think I’m so lame.”
“Hey.” I bring her face back to me. “Don’t ever be ashamed of your innocence. It’s part of what makes you who you are.” I twist my body to face her. “I don’t think you’re lame. I think your inexperience is refreshing.”
“Then why did you hide away in your room?”
“I was trying to give you some space.”
“I don’t want space,” she says, shaking her head. “Every time I’m alone I think about my brother and I get sad. When I’m around you, you distract me.” She curls her arm around a pillow and lays her head down on it. “Can I… maybe sleep in here tonight?” Her eyes are hooded over and she’s halfway to falling asleep.
“Sure,” I tell her, feeling like shit that I’m partially the reason she’s lost her brother and is sad.
“Thank you,” she says through a yawn. “That orgasm really wiped me out.” She laughs softly.
When I reach over to grab my laptop from my nightstand, she says, “What does your tattoo mean? ‘Never forget’.”
I glance down at the tattoo she’s referring to, realizing I’m shirtless, and memories come flooding back.
Twelve Years Ago
“And… it’s a girl!” the doctor announces.
“Really?” Kelsi gasps, tears of happiness in her eyes.
“Yes, see those three lines?” The doctor points at the screen. “They confirm it.”
My eyes leave Kelsi’s face and go to the screen.
Kelsi is officially halfway through her pregnancy. She’s twenty weeks today, which means an ultrasound. We saw the baby when she first found out she was pregnant, but the baby was only a blip on the screen. Now she’s bigger. She has a head and a body. I can see her fluttering heart. Her legs and arms. It’s as if she’s a real person.
“Did you hear that, Ethan? We’re having a little girl,” Kelsi gushes.
“I heard,” I tell her, my eyes flitting between the screen and her protruding belly.
“I hope she has your eyes,” she says through a watery smile. While her eyes are a bright green mossy color, mine are boring brown.
“My eyes are just brown,” I point out.
“They aren’t just brown,” she argues. “They’re bright and refreshing…” She takes my hand in hers. “Like nature after it rains. When everything has been cleansed. Like a fresh start.”
I swallow thickly at her description. Kelsi comes from a fucked up home. Her dad is a crackhead and her mom is a prostitute. When we met in school, she admitted she hated going home, so I brought her home with me, and my mom doted on her like the daughter she never had.
Kelsi continued to come over every day until she was at my house more than her own. Then one day when she did go home, she found out her parents were gone. Literally gone. They left without their own daughter to God knows where. Instead of Kelsi being upset, she was relieved.
We packed up her clothes and a few items that were important to her, and I brought her back to my house. Of course my mom told her her home would be with us. The first official night she moved in, we lay in bed and Kelsi told me I was her second chance… her fresh start.
“That’s what this baby is, Ethan,” Kelsi says. “Our fresh start.”
“Ethan,” Nevaeh says, shaking me from thoughts. “Are you okay?”
My heart is beating against my rib cage, and it’s hard to breathe.
“Ethan,” she repeats.
I swallow thickly, pushing my emotions back into the tiny box I keep safely tucked away. “Yeah, I just remembered I have work I need to do at the club,” I say, climbing out of bed, so I can get dressed.
“You’re leaving?” she asks, sitting up. “Right now?”
“You’ll be fine here.” I throw on a collared shirt and slacks, then slip on my socks and shoes. I usually only go to the club in a suit, but I don’t have time. I need to get the hell out of here. “Don’t wait up.”
The minute I get to the club, I regret leaving. Sure, Nevaeh will be safe at my dad’s place. I set the alarm, and if anyone were to enter, it would notify me and the police immediately. But it’s not because of her safety I’m regretting leaving. It was the confused and hurt look on her face. She’s been through so much in such a short time and she needed me, but instead I left her. Although, it’s probably for the best. She came into my room to feel safe, to be comforted. And I’m the last person she should be depending on for either of those things.
My thoughts go back to my flashback of Kelsi smiling and happy, calling me and our baby our fresh start. She was the last person to depend on me to comfort her, to keep her safe—and I failed. Badly.
I can’t do that to Nevaeh. I need to figure out what Logan is up to, so I can stabilize the threat to Nevaeh, and then I need to let her go, so she can be free. Be safe from me. I’m nobody’s white knight and it’s best she realizes that now.
Nevaeh
Blaire: Your mom has called me fifteen times in the last week looking for you. I don’t know what’s going on with you but you’re going to need to give her something.
I stare at the message on my phone, unsure how to respond. On one hand, I feel bad my mom is worried about me. It’s been almost a week since our argument and my disappearance. We left things on a bad note. I know she’s worried about me, about why I’m avoiding her, why I quit my job with the youth group. Why I up and left to a beach house nobody has ever heard of or been to. She has no idea her son is dead and never coming back. But on the other hand… I just don’t have it in me to care—not about my brother dying, but about everything else. My mom did this to herself. She lied about her life, and when she was confronted, she lied some more. She’s so used to me rolling over and obeying, she didn’t know how to handle it when I actually stuck up for myself.
I smile internally at the thought. Stephen would be proud of me. My heart clenches in my chest, and I reach over and grab the framed photo of us. I was shocked to find it in my suitcase Ethan packed for me.
Oh, Ethan… My entire body shivers at the thought of him. The way he guided me to my orgasm, letting me have all the control. The way my body reacted to his. He had me wound up as tight as a rubber band…until I snapped, losing myself in the moment. I’d never felt anything like that in my life. So taken care of and worshipped.
Afterward, when I came down from my high, I was worried it would be awkward. But it was the opposite. The way he picked me up and carried me over his shoulder to the bathroom. And when I told him I needed a moment to myself, he was a complete gentleman. For a little while, it felt like I was in some fairy tale, being swept up off my feet. Until I asked him about his tattoo, and everything went from light to dark. I saw the look in his eyes flash from hurt, to pain, to hollow—his emotions literally turning off right in front of me—and I instantly regretted asking him. But it was too late. And he ran. And hasn’t been back ever since.
Actually, that’s not true. I hear him come in every morning, but then he leaves a few hours later. He must stay just long enough to shower and change. But I can’t confirm that since he’s made sure we don’t cross paths. I would’ve been worried about his friend Logan showing up, but the morning after Ethan left, a man showed up with him and introduced himself as Rosco. He said he works for Ethan and his job is to protect me. When Ethan left, Rosco stayed. He doesn’t say much, other than to ask if I need anything. Honestly, if it weren’t for him being so big and imposing—I’m talking at least six and a half feet tall with muscle stacked on top of muscle—I wouldn’t even know he’s here. For such a big guy, he’s ironically quiet. He spends
most of his time in Ethan’s office where he informed me the security cameras are located, only coming out long enough to eat when I make food and insist he joins me.
My phone dings with another text message.
Blaire: Nevaeh! Forget your mom! You have ME worried. Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you. Please.
I let out an audible sigh at her text. I hate that I can’t tell Blaire what’s going on, but until I know more, it’s for her own good. I can’t take a chance of her getting mixed up in whatever Logan is doing.
Me: I’m sorry. I just need some more time. I’m okay. I promise.
Not a complete lie. While I should feel lonely here, it’s actually been peaceful. It’s given me time to think about my brother’s death and what Ethan said. Looking back, I can now see all the signs. The expensive renovations. The new car he had recently purchased. The paranoid way he was acting the last few times we hung out. His final words to me, as if he knew something bad was going to happen to him.
Because he did know.
It’s not that I’m over his death. My heart aches every time I think about him. But at least it all makes sense now. I hate that he went down that path, and I’d like to think if he had confided in me maybe I could’ve done something to help him. But the truth is, he was in over his head and I don’t even know what I could’ve done. When I can corner Ethan, I’m planning to ask him if there’s any way to tip the police force off so they’ll know he’s gone and I can tell my parents. Even without a body, we need to have a funeral. My parents will need closure—I need closure.
Blaire: Take a picture and send it to me.
What?
As if she can hear my thoughts, she sends another text: I need to see for myself you’re okay.
Figuring it can’t hurt, I take a quick picture then send it to her. As I wait for it to show delivered, I look at the woman on the screen. I’m several shades tanner from lounging by the pool. My thick hair is up in a messy bun, and my brown eyes are shining in contentment. Spending time by myself has been good for me. I’ve even written a new list, adding a few extra items to it. I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to do any of them, but I’m hoping to catch Ethan off guard and corner him into giving me an update.
Blaire: You look beautiful and I miss you. Please come home soon.
Me: I miss you more.
I set my phone on the table and lie back in the lounge chair, closing my eyes and enjoying the sunshine. Hopefully the sun is here to stay, but in Jersey you never know. We could have a week of heat and the next be covered in snow.
“I don’t give a fuck what my son told you. This is my damn home and I want to know why the hell you’re here playing house with some woman.”
I jump at the booming voice as it gets louder, the closer it gets, and wrap my towel around my bikini-clad body.
“Andrew, please calm down,” a soft voice adds. It’s sweet with a heavy Spanish accent. Kind of like Ethan’s, only his isn’t as distinguished.
I stand and see Rosco with a man and woman standing by the back door.
“No, Raquel, I won’t calm down. There’s a woman lying out by our pool. Women’s clothes scattered all over Ethan’s room, while his clothes are in the guest bedroom. I want to know what the hell is going on.”
“I’m sure, once Ethan comes home, he’ll be able to explain everything.”
“Or he can explain now,” the man growls, pointing at Rosco, who has his arms crossed over his chest in defiance.
I take a moment to look at the man and immediately know he’s related to Ethan. They share the same features, from their eyes, to their hair, to the way they hold themselves. If someone drew what Ethan would look like in twenty years, it would be this man.
“I already told you I was given strict orders not to tell anybody anything,” Rosco says dryly.
“Then you can leave,” the man says.
“Not happening until the boss returns,” Rosco argues. “I mean no disrespect, but I was given orders by Mr. Romero, and you know I’m not veering from them until he tells me otherwise.”
Oh, Mr. Romero… That must be Ethan’s last name.
“I don’t give a—” the man begins, stepping into Rosco’s face.
I figure I better say something before they get into a fight. “Excuse me,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention my way. “My name is Nevaeh… Nevaeh Hansen.”
I walk over to the three of them and extend my hand to shake theirs. The man doesn’t take mine, but the woman does, and now that I’m closer to her I can see Ethan also looks a lot like her. They must be his parents. It would make sense since Ethan mentioned this is his dad’s beach house.
“I’m Raquel Romero,” the woman says with a smile. “Ethan’s… mother.” She’s petite, dressed in skinny jeans and a flowy top. She can’t be more than five feet and a couple inches, but she’s wearing a pair of high heels that make her taller. Her face is done up with makeup, and her lips are plump and bright red. She’s gorgeous. With tiny crow’s feet in the corner of her eyes, I can tell she’s closer to Ethan’s father’s age than mine, but it’s clear she takes care of herself.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “I’m…” Shoot, what the heck am I to Ethan? I’m not his girlfriend… but he did give me that soul-shattering orgasm. Does that make me his one-night stand? No, we would’ve had to have had sex for that. Are we friends? No, friends actually speak to each other. Ethan hasn’t spoken to me in days. His captive? No, he made it clear I can leave any time I want.
I must take too long to finish my sentence, because Raquel laughs, her honey-colored eyes twinkling just like Ethan’s do when he laughs. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain. Our son is a grown man.” She winks saucily and I instantly like this woman.
“Dad?” The question comes from Ethan, and we all turn to look at him standing in the doorway, dressed to the nines in a suit, just like the night I met him, and the day he saved me from Logan.
His confused gaze then swings over to his mom and his eyes turn hard. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Ethan!” I gasp at the cruelness in his tone. “What’s wrong with you?” Why would he speak to his mother like that?
“I asked you a damn question,” he demands, ignoring me and stepping toward his mom.
“Ethan,” his dad growls. “Don’t speak to your mother like that.”
Ethan’s eyes leave his mom and dart back over to his dad. “Are you defending her?” he hisses. “The fuck happened while you were away?”
“We’ll discuss that in a moment,” his dad says. “But first, I’d like to know why, when I got here thinking the place would be empty, I found this woman and your employee here.”
Ethan’s cold eyes bounce between his mom and dad for several long seconds before he says, “Your office.”
His dad nods then steps over to Raquel. He says something to her in Spanish that has Ethan tightening his fists and stalking back into the house.
Once all three men are gone, leaving Raquel and me alone, she speaks again. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. We thought the house would be empty. We planned to tell Ethan, but not like this.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t really know what I saw,” I admit.
Raquel nods and gestures toward the table and chairs. “How well do you know Ethan?”
“We just met a week ago.”
Her eyes widen.
“Oh, no. It’s not like that.” My mind goes back to the way I grinded against his pelvis until I came… well, maybe it is kind of like that.
“You don’t have to explain,” she says. “The day I left twelve years ago, lost me the right to know anything about my son.” Her red-stained lips turn down into a heartbreaking frown.
“You haven’t seen him in twelve years?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve seen pictures of him. And every year since I left, I come to town and check on him, but we haven’t spoken, no.”
I have so many questi
ons, but I don’t want to pry, so I just nod as if I understand.
“I know you’ve only known him for a short time,” she says after a few minutes of silence, “but could you maybe tell me about him?”
My heart cracks at her request. She’s right, we just did meet, and what I know isn’t exactly the stuff you tell people about—especially a mother who hasn’t seen her son in over a decade. But when her eyes lock with mine in a silent plea, I feel like I have to say something, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “He saved me from being sold as a sex slave.”
Her eyes bulge out in shock, and my hand flies up to cover my mouth.
“Jesus Christ,” a masculine voice says.
Our heads swing over to see Ethan and his father standing there.
“Is that true?” Raquel asks Ethan.
“It’s none of your business.” He hits her with a hard glare before turning it on me. “She’s not to be trusted.” He points to his mother and steps toward me.
Raquel opens her mouth to respond, but Ethan beats her to it. “I don’t care that you’ve somehow convinced Dad to take you back. He and I aren’t the same person. He might forgive you for leaving, but I don’t. And I sure as hell don’t trust you.”
She nods, and her eyes glass over. “I understand.”
“I don’t,” I cut in. “I don’t know what happened, but you haven’t even heard her out.”
“I don’t need to,” Ethan says, his voice devoid of all emotion. “My dad busted his ass so she could have everything she wanted. He bought her this expensive house, made sure she was driving in the best vehicle money could buy, and stocked her closet full of designer clothes. She didn’t work a single day she was with him. And when shit got tough, she walked out the door without once looking back or giving a damn that she was leaving her husband or son.”
“You know that’s not true!” Raquel cries, tears streaming down her face. “It killed me to leave, but I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice,” Ethan booms.