Coming Full Circle (the Pembrooke series Book 2)

by Jessica Prince

  “You’ve been more than willing to throw your hostility in my face since I got here. I don’t know why you’d start asking permission now,” I replied, one corner of my mouth twitching as I tried to suppress a smirk.

  “If you hadn’t have gotten hurt… if Harlow hadn’t dragged your ass back home, would you still have wanted to make things right?” Her question caused my back to grow stiff. All the muscles in my body went rigid. But she wasn’t done. “Or is it just a matter of convenience now?”

  “I…” I had no fucking clue how to answer that question. From the moment I left, I felt like something was missing from my life. I was unhappy, filling that void with sex and booze to try and dull the ache. I knew exactly what was causing it, but had the injury not happened, had I not returned to Pembrooke, I didn’t know how long I would have continued throwing myself into the game in order to have some semblance of peace. I didn’t know how long I would have taken to pull my head out of my ass without the unwanted shove given to me.

  “Just think on that, and then consider what it really is you want from Eliza. She doesn’t deserve for you to screw with her head a second time.”

  She didn’t wait for my response. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the kitchen leaving me with my own, miserable thoughts.

  Past

  Ethan

  SHIT. IF DERRICK knew what I was doing he’d kill me.

  Then he’d kill Eliza. Hell, I wanted to kill Eliza for putting me in this position, but I couldn’t have just left her. The moment I heard her voice on the other line, her words slurred and hard to understand, my stomach plummeted.

  I came home needing something normal, something familiar to try and decompress from everything happening in my life. College ending, the draft, just… everything. But instead of everything becoming clearer, my head felt more twisted up than before. Everything was fucked, and I had no clue how to fix it.

  Because my feelings for Eliza had changed.

  If I were being honest with myself, it had been happening for a while now, but I’d refused to acknowledge it. But after this weekend home, there was no more hiding what was happening. Because the closer my future came, the more I started considering throwing it all away. For her. And it scared the absolute fuck out of me.

  She was my best friend.

  She was like a sister.

  She was sixteen, for Christ’s sake! I couldn’t feel this way about her. I just couldn’t. It was wrong on so many goddamned levels it wasn’t even funny. I’d even gone so far as trying to put a little distance between us, but each and every time my phone rang, I jumped to answer. I just couldn’t help myself.

  The sight of the massive bonfire before me pulled me from my thoughts. Cars were parked all over the place, kids were everywhere and my chest tightened at the thought of Eliza, drunk, being out here and vulnerable for anyone to take advantage of.

  I threw the truck into park and shoved the door open, not wasting the time it took to pull the keys from the ignition before jumping out of the cab. Every second it took for me to get to Eliza was a second something bad could happen.

  I wasn’t thinking rationally. I’d been a rebellious teenager myself, after all. God knew how many parties I’d snuck out to attend. But this was different. This was her. And if anything happened, if she got hurt in any way, I’d lose my mind.

  I’d just started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to find her in the massive sea of teenagers when I heard her loud, piercing “Ethan!” over the music.

  I didn’t hesitate getting to her. I was across the field and at her side in second. I didn’t even take in the people all around me as I grabbed hold of her hand and started dragging her behind me.

  “Wait, shlow down,” she slurred, her feet stumbling beneath her as she tried to keep up. I didn’t slow. Instead I scooped her up in my arms and carried her the rest of the way to my truck.

  “What were you thinking, coming out here? You could have been hurt!” I snapped once I had her buckled into the passenger seat.

  “I was fine,” she drawled, her pretty hazel eyes glassy from the beer. “Was havin’ fun, s’all.”

  I glared down at her and slammed the door before rounding the hood and climbing in. I threw the truck in reverse and hit the gas so hard dirt and dead grass spit up from the tires. “You mad a’me?” she asked after several seconds of silence.

  I took a calming breath in through my nose and blew it out on a long exhale. “No,” I answered honestly. “I’m not mad. I was worried out of my mind. When you called me drunk and told me where you were, I just about lost it.”

  “Aw.” I could hear the smile in her voice as I kept my eyes on the road. “My bes frien’s worried ‘bout me.” She reached over and gave my shoulder a shove. “Sorry I scared you,” she said still drunk, but sounding genuine nonetheless. “Din’t mean to.”

  Her hand came across the center console and landed on mine, her fingers squeezing tight. “Please don’ be mad at me.”

  I turned my palm up and tightened my fingers around hers. “I’m not mad.”

  “Good,” she sighed. From the corner of my eyes I saw her head fall back on the head rest. Her eyes closed as she mumbled, “You’re my bes’ frien’ Ethan. I love you.”

  That fear came back full force. Because in that very moment I knew exactly what I was going to have to do.

  And I hated it with all my heart. Even thinking about it crushed me.

  But I had no choice. There was only one solution.

  Because I knew in that very moment, without a shred of doubt… I was in love with Eliza.

  And it couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Past

  Eliza

  I SAT AMONGST the crowd in the massive auditorium with my father and Chloe at my sides as I cheered when Ethan walked across the stage. Happy tears filled my eyes and coursed down my cheeks as Harlow, Noah, and Lucy stood beside him, beaming at the cameras while Ethan held up a Denver Wildcats jersey.

  He was the only person in the history of Pembrooke to be drafted into the NFL. It was his lifelong dream, and I couldn’t have been prouder of him. But at the same time joy spread through my chest, that nagging sense of unease still sat in the pit of my stomach.

  Ethan had been uncharacteristically distant for weeks. Ever since the last time he came home. I knew it was hard for him to come back on the weekends since he was in his last year of college, and with the draft coming up, he was under an insane amount of stress. I understood that. What I had trouble understanding was the fact that he hadn’t answered or returned a single one of my calls or text messages in three and a half weeks. I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that part of the reason I was so excited to have been invited today was so that I’d finally have a chance to talk to my best friend.

  Anticipation made my skin prickle as Chloe, Dad, and I stood around the emptying auditorium once the draft was over, waiting for Harlow and her family to come out and join us. I was so antsy if felt like the only thing holding me together was my skin. Dad and Chloe chatted about how amazing it was to have someone so close to us entering the pros, but I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. I was too busy scanning the thinning crowd, looking over heads, trying to find that one person I couldn’t wait to see.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Noah, Harlow, and Lucy came to join us. My stomach clenched when I noticed Ethan wasn’t with them, but I hadn’t given up hope.

  “So where’s our boy?” Dad asked once they’d reached us. “I’m starving. Let’s get this celebration started.” Chloe smacked him playfully in the chest.

  Harlow’s smile fell slightly and my heart stuttered. “He’s not going to be able to make dinner. I didn’t realize he’d be so tied up doing interviews and meetings with the coaches and stuff.”

  “He’s not coming?” I finally spoke. My voice cracked a little and that hope I’d been holding on to plummeted. I knew, deep down, that something was seriously wrong with Ethan. I just didn’t have a
clue what it was. It wasn’t like him to not confide in me.

  Harlow looped her arm through mine and pulled me along as she started out of the auditorium. “I’m sorry, honey. He really wanted to, he just couldn’t get away. But we’ll have fun without him.”

  I let my family and their friends lead me away, all the while thinking that what Harlow said wasn’t the full truth.

  NERVES HAD TAKEN root in my belly as the phone rang against my ear. The draft had come and gone. Ethan still hadn’t returned home, and the last I heard, he already purchased an apartment in Denver and hired movers to pack his stuff up at his sister’s house and cart it to Colorado. He had no intentions of coming back. And the worst part was, I still hadn’t talked to him. So I’d taken measures to ensure he answered my call.

  “’Lo,” his groggy voice filled the line and just the sound of it caused a lump to form in my throat so big I thought it would choke me. “Hello,” he repeated, his voice edged with agitation.

  “Ethan?”

  Lilly sat across from me on my bed with wide eyes, “He answered?” she mouthed. I waved her off, too busy focusing on the person on the other line.

  “Eliza? What number are you calling me from?”

  “It’s my friend Lilly’s phone,” I answered flatly.

  “Why are you calling from someone else’s phone? What happened to yours?” At the sharp, impatient tone of his voice, I felt my anger beginning to rise. “Nothing happened to it,” I snapped. “I’m calling you from someone else’s phone because you’ve been avoiding my calls and texts for over a month, and I want to know why, Ethan.”

  He sighed through the line, sounding like he had better things to do than sit on the phone with me. “I don’t have time to play your games, Eliza. I’ve got shit to do. I haven’t answered because I’m busy. Ever think of that?”

  I didn’t want to cry, I really didn’t. It made me feel like an immature little kid, but I couldn’t help it. “What the hell’s going on with you, Ethan? Are you mad at me or something?”

  “Jesus, Eliza!” he bit out so harshly it startled me. “Not everything’s about you. I’m a grown man who just got drafted into the NFL for Christ’s sake. I have responsibilities. I don’t have the time to hold your hand whenever your feelings get hurt.”

  Lilly’s face was a mask of worry as she watched me. My jaw clenched and I spoke through my tears, “You don’t need to be an asshole.”

  He let out a loud breath, like he was struggling for patience, “You’re just a kid. I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it was like in the adult world.” I inhaled sharply as the pain lanced through me. He’d never, in all our years as friends, thrown my age in my face. I might have only been sixteen to his twenty-two, but I hadn’t felt like a kid since my own mom taught me what it was like not to be wanted. “Look, I don’t have the time for this shit, okay? The fact is, you’re a kid, I’m an adult, and things change. The way my life is now, I don’t have room for some immature little girl who doesn’t have the first clue what the real world is like and will probably be stuck in that po-dunk little town for the rest of her life. I have bigger plans. You just need to move on. Go hang out with people your own age.”

  I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. My chest physically ached as tear after tear fell from my eyes. It wasn’t until that very second that I realized just how stupid I was to actually think Ethan cared about me, was ever really my friend.

  “I hate you,” I hissed through clenched teeth with every ounce of feeling inside me. I hit the end button and broke into choking sobs while Lilly held my head in her lap and rubbed my hair.

  Eliza

  A TICKLING SENSATION along my shoulder woke me from the most restful sleep I’d had in ages. Just like after every migraine, my head felt foggy and it took me a few seconds to get my bearings. Several seconds passed before I realized what the cause of the tickling, as well as the immense heat warming me from chest to toes, was.

  And once I figured it out, my entire body went stiff.

  “Morning,” Ethan’s thick, sleep rough voice sent vibrations through his chest straight into mine. Because in my sleep, not only had he managed to climb into bed with me, but I was pressed so close to him we were practically fused together. He was on his back, one arm tucked beneath me and curling around so that he held my entire front to his side. And even thought I kept telling myself I hated him, there was no denying just how muscular he was, if the chest my head was currently resting on, and the thighs my own leg was thrown over was anything to judge by. The man was a freaking powerhouse. And I was all but laying on top of him.

  To make matters worse, the tingle I was feeling low in my belly had nothing to do with being too hot.

  “What…” I cleared my throat, struggling to form the correct words. “What are you doing in my bed?”

  I felt his body tense beneath mine and went to move, only to have the arm that was holding me in place tighten around me. I realized it was the feel of his fingers sifting through my hair and across my shoulder that was causing the tickling that woke me because he continued the motion once I stopped struggling against the strength of his muscular arm — not because I wanted to (or at least that was what I was telling myself), but because it was pointless. He’d always been bigger, but he had at least fifty pounds and four inches on me now, and the struggle was fruitless.

  His tone was still gravelly as he asked, “How much of last night do you remember?”

  I scanned my memory to try and pick up right where it left off. “Uh… I remember my dad making me come home with you. I remember you helping me to the apartment…” I wracked my brain to try and come up with more, but the pain I’d been experiencing last night seemed to have overshadowed everything that had happened. “Um, maybe an argument you had with Lilly? And… I think I got sick?” I finished, vaguely recalling an up close and personal look at the inside of my toilet bowl.

  “You did,” he answered in a soft voice. “I thought migraines were rare for you, sweetheart.”

  I couldn’t keep laying there with him, not cuddled up like we were, having what to any outsider would seem like a normal conversation. His arm had loosened so I tried again to escape.

  “Ethan, let me up,” I said when he refused to let me move off of him for the second time.

  “Not until I’m sure you’re all right. You scared the shit out of me last night, Eliza.”

  The burn I’d been feeling earlier was suddenly coming from an angry place, which suited me much better. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I’m fine,” I answered, giving his arm one last hard shove and finally gaining my freedom. Once I was able to put some much needed space between us, I was able to breathe again. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I gained my feet and managed to sway only just a bit before righting myself and turning back to see Ethan had sat up, looking way too good on my mattress than was safe for my sanity. “What I want to know is why you thought my condition last night made it okay for you to take advantage. I know you’re a fan of shitty behavior, but that was low,” I sneered. “Even for you.”

  I would have liked to claim that I was the bigger person, that I always took the high road, that the way his jaw ticked as he fought to keep his anger at bay didn’t make my stomach do a happy little flip, but I wasn’t. I’d obviously struck a chord with that last comment, and damn if I wasn’t at least the tiniest bit proud of myself.

  “Look,” he stated with straining patience as he gingerly moved off the bed, grabbing a crutch that I hadn’t noticed was leaning against the wall as he made his way toward me. “I know you’re pissed—”

  “Pissed?” I spat venomously as that anger morphed into a fury so intense it was frightening. “You think that after the awful things you said to me the last time we spoke, I’m only pissed?” I didn’t miss the way his face twisted with a wince at my reminder of what he’d said to end our friendship, and a loud, uncontrollable bark of sarcastic laughter bubbled up from my throat. I couldn’
t believe he had the nerve to look contrite. And after six years, no less. My eyes narrowed on him as I continued. “Oh, believe me, Ethan, pissed doesn’t even touch the level of anger I have for you.”

  Despite the hatred I was sure was flashing in my eyes, he didn’t stop his advance until he was only a few inches away from me, his face a mask of regret. “Believe me, I know better than anyone that I deserve every single ounce of hatred you must feel for me. But I’m here to fix that.”

  I took a step back. “There’s no possible way you could fix that, Ethan.”

  Despite his flinch, he continued to push. “I’m sorry, Eliza,” he said in a low, stricken voice. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  I took the hit his apology caused and did my best to keep my expression blank. I refused to show him just how much that meant to me. “Too little, six years too late,” I spat. With a side-step I attempted to move past him, only to be cut off. He moved surprisingly fast for someone with a torn ACL who depended on a crutch to get around.

  Leaning down so we were eye to eye, he repeated, “I’m sorry.”

  I struggled to hold on to the ire I’d felt since the heartbreak finally faded into the background years ago. “I don’t care,” I ground out. “I appreciate you helping me home last night. But, as you can see, I’m fine now. You can go.”

  “I’m sorry!” he stated again, his voice growing louder and fueling my own temper until it finally snapped.

  “I don’t forgive you!” I stood on my tip toes to yell it in his face. “I’ll never forgive you!”

  “Don’t say that!” He roared so loud it startled me, causing me to jump backward. My wide-eyed stare took him in cautiously as his chest rose and fell like he’d just finished running a marathon. “Don’t… don’t fucking say that,” he growled, clearly lost in his emotions as he dropped his crutch, clenched his eyes closed, and ran his hands through his hair. He remained in that position, looking utterly consumed by grief, for so long that I was able to notice my own breathing matched the erratic motions of his chest.