The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set: Irreparable #1-2

by Sam Mariano

  It was a cruel mental image to fling at them, and while Lauren made a pitiful little noise, even the more formidable Ashlynn grimaced.

  Between sobs, Lauren said, “That’s no excuse. You can’t be the kind of girl who—”

  Spinning around, Ashlynn said, “Please let me talk to her alone for a few minutes. Please. You’re too emotional, you need to…you need to take a moment and collect yourself before you say something you can never take back.”

  “This is our fault,” Lauren cried, ignoring Ashlynn. “We never should’ve had him over for that dinner. We invited a predator into our home.”

  “This is no one’s fault. He is not a predator. This has all been blown way out of proportion,” Willow insisted, grabbing her purse and digging around for her phone.

  Ashlynn’s eyes followed the movement. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting my phone,” Willow stated as she pulled it out of her bag.

  “Who are you calling?” Lauren asked, taking a few steps closer, peering at the phone.

  “I’m going to stay with a friend for the night. You guys…I can’t handle this right now.”

  As her thumb moved toward the green icon that would eventually connect her to Ethan, Willow saw a shadow approaching, but didn’t connect the dots until Lauren snatched the phone right out of her hand, her eyes wide, the pupils dilated.

  “Hey!” Willow objected, grabbing for it.

  Lauren jerked it back, still bug-eyed. “You seriously think I’m going to let you call him? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “I’m going to, if you don’t stop treating me like a 12-year-old,” Willow stated, her eyes widening right back. “Give me my phone.”

  “No phone.” Then, before Willow had a chance to react, Lauren grabbed her purse and spun around, heading out of her room.

  “What are you doing?” Willow cried, so frustrated that she wanted to scream.

  “If you’re going to persist with this insane, self-destructive behavior, then I am going to treat you like a child. From now on, consider yourself fucking Rapunzel, because you are only leaving this house to go to school and come home, and I will be the one driving you.”

  “Oh, my god.” Willow grabbed her head in her hands, her body so hot with anger that she half-expected to combust. “You can’t do this!”

  “And your counselor,” Lauren added. “Twice a week. Once a week is clearly not helping.”

  Spinning around to appeal to Ashlynn, Willow said, “Are you going to say anything to her?”

  Ashlynn shrugged helplessly—but she wasn’t helpless, she just wasn’t willing to help.

  Helplessness clawed at her insides. “So, I’m a prisoner in my own goddamn house now, is that it?”

  “Willow,” Lauren reprimanded, spinning around with her crazy eyes. “Do not use that word.”

  “I will use whatever goddamn word I want to use! Maybe you should talk to the counselor about making your daughter, who was held prisoner, a prisoner in her own home! Way to be helpful, Mom, really. I’m blown away by how much sense that makes.”

  “I don’t care,” Lauren stated, shaking her head. “I will not stand by and let some pervert take advantage of my daughter. The fact that he already has makes me sick—your father should’ve killed the bastard.”

  Heart sinking, Willow said, “That’s a real possibility! I have to call him tomorrow, so I need my phone.”

  “You can use the house phone. Under supervision.”

  “Fuck this,” Willow yelled, rushing past her mother and down the stairs, aware of their footsteps behind her so she picked up the pace, jerking the door open and not even taking the time to close it behind her.

  “Willow!”

  Ignoring them, she jogged down the driveway, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing. Without a coat, she couldn’t exactly walk in the frigid night air to the hotel, and it wasn’t close enough that she would feel safe anyway. While she wasn’t as petrified of the night as she had been, she was still afraid, and there was no way she wouldn’t fear every car passing by. By the time she made it to the hotel, however many hours later, she would be a wreck.

  No, she didn’t have to go all the way to Ethan’s. She could go to someone’s house and use their phone to call Ethan, or even a taxi service. Of course, she had no money. No clothes.

  It didn’t matter, she didn’t need money or clothes. Ethan would have enough to pay the cab, right? He probably wasn’t back from Chicago yet—then she realized he was probably on his way to Chicago. It would probably be a couple of hours before he got back to the hotel, if he even went back to the hotel.

  Despair began to catch up with her.

  She really was trapped.

  Her legs kept moving, she continued running down the road despite the realization, but then she heard a car coming up the road behind her and her insides turned to mush. The sound of Ashlynn calling out the window slowed her heart slightly, but she still felt cornered.

  “Please get in the car.”

  Willow stopped, but didn’t get in the car. Instead, she looked Ashlynn in the face, thinking to appeal to her more calmly, more rationally, and said, “I love him.”

  By the grim look on Ashlynn’s face, it had not been the right thing to say.

  “We care about each other,” she continued, since she already started digging the hole. “It isn’t sordid like you guys are thinking—I know how it sounds, but it isn’t like that. Ethan didn’t take advantage of me. He didn’t want to hurt me. He was forced as much as I was—we were both forced, they just used him as a tool. You don’t get it. He is not a bad person.”

  “Just get in the car, and we can talk about it,” Ashlynn said gingerly.

  It was her only hope, so Willow opened the car door and slid inside.

  “He’s helped me,” Willow said immediately. “He helped me with my anger—he’s the one who told me go to counseling. Trust me, if Ethan was one of the bad guys, I wouldn’t protect him.”

  “I know you think that,” Ashlynn replied, her voice calm. “But I think you need to compromise with us. Surely you can understand… You need to take a step back from him, Willow. He is not your hero, he is not your boyfriend—regardless of how you feel right now, you need to…you need space. No phone and no car for a little while isn’t the end of the world.”

  “I have to call him tomorrow to let him know how the conversation with my dad goes. Ethan’s family won’t sleep in their house tonight because of what my father did.”

  “That isn’t your problem. We need to focus on taking care of you right now, you can call your father or I will call your father and make sure that he…steers clear. I don’t know what happened today, I don’t…care, right now what I care about is you.”

  “Right now what I care about is Ethan, and not feeling like a prisoner in my own home. I’m fine. I am not some wilting flower, I am not brainwashed, I am not protecting someone who hurts me. Somebody that I care about is going through a rough time right now, and I want to be able to talk to him.”

  “No,” Ashlynn said, somewhere between firm and apologetic. “He’s a part of your past, not your future, and honestly…while I don’t agree with the way that your mother went about it, I do agree about what needs to happen next. No more Ethan, Willow.”

  Willow’s jaw clenched as Ashlynn turned the car off. “That is my decision to make, Ashlynn.”

  “Not this time.”

  “What if I don’t listen to you?” she challenged.

  “Then we tighten the restrictions even more. Maybe you need to take some time off school, start college a year late.”

  Her stomach plummeted.

  “If we find out you’ve been trying to talk to him, make no mistake, Willow…we will do whatever we have to do to keep you safe.”

  Refusing to move, Willow sat in the car while Ashlynn got out, loathing her parents in that moment. Like a bird with clipped wings, all she could think about was escape.

  There wa
s no escaping without their cooperation. As difficult as it was, she needed to try to keep her head, try to find a way around their ridiculous restrictions.

  But what if she got caught? What if they actually followed through with that threat? It would derail her whole life and she’d be helpless for another year.

  Shoving the car door open, she jogged to catch up to Ashlynn, her mind racing. “Wait.”

  Ashlynn turned to her expectantly.

  Taking a breath and then letting it out, Willow said, “Okay, I’ll abide by your rules, but I have one request. You have to let me call him one more time to say goodbye.”

  Her eyes drifted off to the side as she seemed to consider it. Nodding once, she said, “I’ll talk to your mom about it.”

  While Ashlynn went to talk to Lauren, Willow tried to think of a plan. She had kept their relationship a secret before, surely she could manage to see him once in a while, she just needed to figure out how.

  If she pretended to roll over and exhibited good behavior for a while, surely she would get her privileges back. She wouldn’t call him—they might see that on the phone bill—but if she played them long enough, she would get back her car, and then…assuming he hadn’t already moved on or gotten back together with his wife, she could see him again.

  Was that really the best case scenario?

  Her shoulder drooped at that depressing realization.

  Before she had too long to wallow in it, Ashlynn and Lauren came back.

  “It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Ashlynn began.

  That time, it was Lauren who interrupted. “It is that we don’t trust you. You’ve been lying to us and sneaking around for months. What’s more, I think it’s best you quit him cold turkey. There will be no contact between you and that piece of shit ever again—not ever. I’m sorry if this makes me the villain in your eyes, but someday you will look back on this and you will understand. You will thank me.”

  “I will not thank you,” Willow stated.

  “We’ll see. Either way, this is what’s going to happen. I hate to employ that ‘as long as you’re living under my roof’ bullshit, but I’m going to.”

  “Fine, then I’ll move out. I’m 18.”

  It was a completely empty threat. Without their money or her father’s money, she would have to drop out of school to work enough hours to pay for her own place. Still, she had to try.

  “Good luck with that,” Lauren said, shaking her head tiredly.

  The only weapon left at her disposal was a glare, so she turned it up full power. “You’re going to regret this,” she said, still trying to get Lauren to back down. “I’m only in school for a few more months, then you can’t treat me like this anymore.”

  “We won’t have to, because you’re a smart girl and eventually you’re going to come to your senses. But only with no contact.”

  Willow shook her head. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t the way to handle this.”

  “Maybe not, Willow, but this is not something I was prepared for; I have no idea how to handle this.”

  With that, Lauren turned toward the stairs, but hesitated. “Please go to your room so I don’t have to worry that you’re trying to run away again.”

  She debated refusing just to be difficult, but she suddenly felt as exhausted as her mother looked, so she settled with storming wordlessly up the stairs, stomping down the hall, and slamming her bedroom door shut.

  As he took a sip of the room temperature tea, Ethan made a face, placing it back down and checking the clock on his tablet.

  Ten more minutes.

  He flicked a glance at the young man behind the counter who sat on a stool, playing with his phone to pass the time.

  Turning his gaze to the window, he watched through the glass as absolutely no one walked by or opened the door to come inside.

  When Willow didn’t call him after she was supposed to talk to her dad, he tried texting her. Calling her. Texting her again.

  Part of him wasn’t sure if she was mad at him for jumping out of bed again right after they’d had sex (he couldn’t blame her for being pissed about that), or if it was something else. After checking online, he saw that her accounts hadn’t been updated, and it wasn’t until hours later, when his message still showed as not being read that he started to worry.

  How would he know if something had happened to her? No one would tell him unless they wanted him to try to find her, and after what her father knew, he doubted the man would let that happen again, even if she was in danger.

  He also didn’t need him to. Antonio had his own network of people who could surely handle it.

  When two days passed, his messages still unread, he broke down and called her house phone. He hoped she would answer, or even her younger brother, just so he could make sure she was okay.

  One of her mothers answered, but the hello was too short for him to know which one.

  “Um, hey, is Willow available?”

  He grimaced a little—is that what someone calling for Willow would ask?

  “Who is this?” she returned sharply.

  What did Willow say her scrawny friend’s name was? Was it Justin? Maybe he should go with Angel, since he remembered that one. Was he still in the picture?

  Before he made a decision, she went on. “Is this Ethan Wilde?”

  Well, shit. There was no way that could be good.

  And it wasn’t. Before he even answered—although his hesitation was probably answer enough—she launched into a tirade, calling him every name in the book, and assuring him she was going to do everything in her power to convince Willow to report what he had done to her so that “his disgusting ass” would rot behind bars.

  Someone took the phone from her at the end of the tirade and he held out hope that it might be Willow until he heard a firmer, calmer tone. “Willow no longer has a phone and she isn’t allowed to use this one. Don’t try to contact her again or we will file a restraining order.”

  It should have occurred to him that the reason Willow’s father left without having the final word was that he had another plan. It should have at least crossed his mind, before he let Willow leave that night, that she might be walking into an ambush.

  He had been too distracted.

  Like he had been distracted, really, since the moment he first laid eyes on the damn girl.

  The old Ethan would have thought of all those things. Would have noticed more.

  Of course, the old Ethan wouldn’t have been involved with her in the first place, so his life wouldn’t have been blown to shit and he wouldn’t have to worry about angry parents wanting to castrate or kill him.

  Oh, how simple life had once been.

  Since it didn’t seem like Willow was the one who wanted nothing to do with him (there would be no reason to take away her phone if she had agreed to it) he tried to think of some clandestine way to contact her. He knew which school she went to, so even though it made him feel shadier than he was, he lurked in the parking lot one day, hoping he could catch her before she went home.

  Her mother picked her up as soon as she walked out of the building, and Willow’s head was down, so she didn’t see him.

  Next, he started going to the Chinese restaurant they had gone to in the evenings and staying there until they closed, hoping she might think of it too, and maybe she would show up.

  When they closed, he would go to the basketball court and just park, on the off chance that she would go back there.

  It had been six nights, and nothing.

  There was no sign of her existence, just like before.

  On a whim, a day earlier, he created a fake social media account and tried to friend her, but either it had been ignored, or she hadn’t been online since. Surely if she saw it, she would guess it was him.

  As he sat in the restaurant, checking the clock again, he found his thoughts drifting back to the prospects he didn’t enjoy thinking about.

  Maybe Willow resisted at first, but in the end, she ag
reed that cutting him out of her life was a good call. Maybe she was dealing with it like a break-up, and he just hadn’t gotten the memo.

  Worse: even if she hadn’t, maybe it was what was best for her. That was almost definitely true. Even if he was in any way right for her at his best, he was so far from his best. His whole life was a mess, he had no idea what was happening with his family, and before the possibility of death had shown up at his door, he had been the one wanting to take a step back to protect her. He knew it couldn’t end well.

  He knew he would hurt her, in the end.

  He just hadn’t expected the end to come so quickly, and without having a part in the decision.

  Wood scraped the cheap tile floor and the guy behind the counter called over to him, “Do you need a box tonight?”

  Glancing back at the younger man, Ethan forced a smile and shook his head. “No, not tonight.”

  One last look at the clock.

  One more minute.

  Ethan sighed, putting the cover back on his tablet and standing.

  He checked his phone, one last time.

  It read: 10:30. No more minutes.

  Nodding at the man behind the counter, he said, “You have a good night.”

  The man smiled and nodded back. “Okay, you too. See you tomorrow.”

  Ethan smiled grimly. “Not this time.”

  The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open and stepped out into the frigid night air, and that time, Ethan Wilde headed home.

  Setting the tumbler on the counter with a thud, Ethan Wilde dropped in a couple of ice cubes before pouring a generous amount of amber liquid into the glass.

  Much better.

  He took a swig before peeking into the grocery bags on the counter, making sure he hadn't forgotten to put away anything that needed to be refrigerated.

  Satisfied that nothing perishable was left out, he abandoned the bags, grabbed his tumbler, and headed to the living room.

  On second thought, he stopped and turned back, bringing the whiskey bottle with him.

  God bless Saturdays. When he didn't have to work, anyway.

  Sure, some may judge him for drinking alone at two in the afternoon, but he didn't give a fuck about those people.