Can't Let Her Go

by Sandy James

  They followed him out the double doors, which wasn’t a surprise. He tried to hail a taxi, but two of the eager reporters got between him and the first car, so the taxi moved on to the next person.

  “Guys,” Ethan said, trying not to lose his temper. “I need to get home. Okay?”

  “Chelsea Harris said you two are planning a wedding,” one reporter said. “Have you two set a date?”

  “She did not,” Ethan insisted, figuring they were only trying to get a rise out of him.

  “On The Cathy Kay Show,” the second reporter insisted, “she said you two were in love and have talked about getting married.”

  “You’re full of shit.” Ethan tried again to signal for another taxi, and one mercifully screeched to the curb right in front of the reporters.

  As he tossed his bag into the backseat, he found a restraining hand on his arm. Turning to confront whoever had the audacity to touch him, he found a smartphone shoved in front of his face. On the screen was Chelsea, seated opposite one of the most annoying talk show hosts in the business. The reporter touched the screen to start the video.

  A slew of emotions raced through Ethan as he watched the short tape of the things Chelsea had said to Cathy Kay. Disbelief. Shock. And finally anger.

  Without a word, he swept the man aside with his arm and crawled into the taxi. After grumbling out directions to the farm, he changed his mind. “Take me to Words & Music.”

  “Downtown, right?” the driver asked over his shoulder.

  “Right. And I’ll pay any speeding ticket.”

  How could Chelsea put their relationship on parade like that? Talking about planning a wedding… What in the hell had she been thinking?

  Hadn’t she listened to a goddamn thing he’d said? How could she blabber on about stuff that was so personal? What was wrong with her?

  It was probably a good thing his phone was dead, because he needed to get a tight rein on his temper before he talked to her, or they’d both find themselves in the fight of the century. By heading to the restaurant first, Ethan could talk to Brad and Russ and they could calm him down before he confronted Chelsea.

  If they could calm him down…

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Words & Music had a decent crowd, and thankfully, Ethan didn’t see any reporters as he wove his way through the bar to get to his office. After he tossed his bag on the office sofa and plugged the spare charger into his dead phone, he headed back down to the bar to look for his buddies.

  The restaurant’s manager, Ellie Foster, glanced up from her clipboard and drew her brown eyebrows together. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

  He shot her a scowl. “Where’s Brad? Russ?”

  With a shake of her head, she set the clipboard on the end of the bar. “Seriously?”

  His scowl deepened.

  She folded her arms under her breasts, drumming her fingers against her forearm. “You know what, Ethan?”

  “What?”

  “Even though I work for you, I need say something.”

  “Then spit it out. I’ve gotta talk to my partners.”

  “You can really be a selfish jerk sometimes.”

  All he could do was gape at her audacity. While one of the reasons the partners had hired her and loved working with her was her willingness to call bullshit when it was the right thing to do, he hadn’t expected her to have the guts to insult him right to his face.

  “Did it even cross your mind that Brad is on his honeymoon right now?” she asked. “I mean, you did just attend his wedding, didn’t you? Weren’t you the even the best man?”

  The wind went right out of Ethan’s sails. He hadn’t remembered. Nor had he remembered, as he did now, that Russ was staying down at Jekyll for a few days to take his first true vacation since they’d updated the restaurant five years before. Instead, Ethan had been nothing but pissed off at his little reception at the airport and all he’d thought about was himself.

  He’d been preoccupied with the fear that the annoying gauntlet he’d had to walk through at the airport would be facing him the rest of his life should he stay with Chelsea. That, and his anger continued to grow over the way she’d blabbed their personal business so freely.

  But Ellie was right. His ego always led the way.

  He let his head hang.

  “Like I said,” she added, laying a gentle hand on his arm, “you can be a selfish jerk sometimes. But we love you anyway. Anything I can do to help? I’m not Brad or Russ, but I’m a pretty good bartender, which means I’m a great listener.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t remember that they’d be gone,” he grumbled.

  “Being as it’s the first time any of you three have been away for years,” she said. “It’s not really that much of a surprise.”

  “You’d know,” Ethan said. “You’ve been here as long as the place has been open.”

  “Which means I should probably take my own vacation soon,” she quipped.

  “You’ve earned one.” Scrambling to think of when the partners had last given the well-deserving employee a raise, he reached for the clipboard to see what management shifts he was scheduled to cover while Brad and Russ were away.

  “You get tomorrow,” she said. When he glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, she just grinned. “I have the rest of the week…” She winked.

  “You read minds now?”

  “Nah, only thinking like I would if I was in your shoes.” Ellie’s smile faded. “I saw the clips from The Cathy Kay Show. I imagine some of your forgetfulness was ’cause you were mad.”

  With a weary sigh, he gave her a curt nod. “Got mobbed by reporters when I was at the airport. I have no idea how they knew I’d be there.”

  “Are you kidding me? They probably have someone at every airline on their payroll to tip them off, especially since people have to fly under their real names now instead of pseudonyms.”

  “Bunch of leeches,” Ethan said with a growl in his voice.

  “That they are,” she agreed. “But you better get used to them.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Ellie let out a long sigh and pulled out a bar stool, which she sat on as she stared at him.

  Since she wasn’t in a hurry to answer him, he followed suit, taking a load off and waiting for her to work through whatever it was she wanted to say.

  “It’s probably none of my business…” she began.

  “Like that ever stopped you before,” he said, giving her a jostle with his elbow to let her know he was teasing. “Say what you need to, Ellie.”

  “I can see what the two of you are like when you’re together. I think there’s something…real there. I just worry…Look, I know how you feel about the press. We all do. But Chelsea’s a star, Ethan. A major star. Reporters will always be a part of her life.”

  He shook his head. “She hates the press too.”

  “She needs the press,” Ellie retorted. “She might not like them, but she needs their support to keep her where she is. If you two stay in a relationship, one of you is gonna have to change.”

  “Yeah,” Ethan said. “She’ll have to learn to freeze them out.”

  “You think it’s that simple?”

  “Of course.”

  The incredulous expression on her face made him wonder if she thought he was stupid. Or perhaps naïve.

  “All I’m saying, Ethan, is that I just don’t see her being able to do what she does and not have reporters asking her the kinds of questions she had to answer on that show. She is who she is, and you’re who you are. People want to know about you both. They feel like they have some kind of stake in your lives.”

  “Fuck ’em,” he said.

  “You honestly believe she’ll start declining interviews? That she’ll dump her social media accounts? Award shows?” Ellie asked. “All I’m sayin’ is that if you can’t handle her life, well… Don’t keep leading her on. You’ll break her heart.” Jumping to her feet, she plu
cked up her clipboard. “I gotta go.”

  As uncomfortable as she’d appeared, he was surprised she didn’t sprint to the kitchen. She took off like a mall walker, quick-stepping away from the bar and the conversation.

  Probably not a bad idea since it was clear that she couldn’t see things through his eyes. Not a surprise. Most people had no clue what a nightmare it had been to grow up famous and to have that fame kill the people he loved most. If he hadn’t grounded himself, if Uncle Joe hadn’t taught him that he was more than some piece of meat being chewed up by the world, he could’ve easily ended up like the litany of other famous children fighting drug addictions or making terrible life choices.

  Ethan felt as exposed as if he were sitting on that stool naked. He was still fuming at having his confession to Chelsea, something that was more difficult than she could ever know, paraded in front of the world and sundry. If she loved him, if she truly loved him, she should have known how much that would hurt him.

  But what else could she do when ambushed by someone as tenacious as Cathy Kay? What could Chelsea have done in to get the reporter to change the subject?

  Probably nothing…

  Admitting that some of his annoyance could stem from his exhaustion and the rotten day he’d had so far, he got to his feet. He’d check his phone to see if she’d called, then he’d head over to her place. Once they talked it out, once she understood why her words had wounded him so deeply, they could avoid something like that disastrous interview from happening again.

  * * *

  Chelsea checked her phone, even though she’d looked to see if Ethan had called less than five minutes before. With a disgruntled huff, she slammed the iPhone onto the mattress she sat on.

  Why wouldn’t he call her back? Or at least text her? She’d left several voicemail messages and God only knew how many texts.

  Something was wrong.

  “I keep telling you that everything’s fine,” Addie said. She leaned her shoulder against the door to Chelsea’s bedroom. “His phone is probably dead or something.”

  “Or something,” Chelsea said. “Like him being pissed off about that interview.”

  “I told you, I doubt he even saw it. He was probably at the airport all day, trying to catch a flight. Besides, even if he did see it, what was so terrible about it?”

  “I just can’t help thinking he’ll be upset. I mean, I let Cathy get the upper hand. I’m usually a lot better at making a host follow my agenda.”

  “Yes, you are,” Addie said with a nod. “But they don’t always get so fucking…personal. She pushed your buttons and she got you to reveal a little more than you wanted. So what? You tattled that you love each other. Like that’s a big fucking secret after that picture. I mean, you didn’t say anything that was out of line. It’s not like you told the world he’s got a small dick.” She gave Chelsea a lopsided smile. “He doesn’t, does he?”

  Her phone chimed a text message, and Chelsea’s heart leapt to her throat. “It’s from Ethan. He says his phone was dead. Forgot his charger in Georgia. Oh, and he’s coming over here now.”

  Why hadn’t he called? He normally hated texts. While she was glad he was coming to her, she couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t want to go home and check the horses. Was he making her a greater priority? Or was he hurrying over to give her a piece of his mind?

  “I can’t believe she got that picture!” Chelsea stood and went to stand in front of Addie. “The staff was supposed to keep things hush-hush. Brad said he’d paid them all well.”

  “Do you have any idea how much some reporters would pay for a picture like that?” Addie chuckled. “Shit, I wish I’d been there to take it. I would’ve gotten enough fucking money to retire.” She patted Chelsea’s arm. “Ethan’s just going to have to understand, Chel.”

  “Understand? Understand what?”

  “Your life. Your career. What being with Chelsea Harris entails.”

  Chelsea let out a resigned sigh. “I was hoping that stuff would…I don’t know…blow over? Die down? It’s not always this insane.”

  With a discouraging shake of her head, Addie said, “Die down? Not likely. For fuck’s sake, when has it ever died down? You’re a visible celebrity. You’re active online. You know how to make all of that work for you, and you’ve got really loyal fans because of everything you’ve done to win them over. That’s what Ethan’s gonna have to understand.”

  “I guess I’m used to it,” Chelsea said with a shrug.

  “Then he’ll just have to get used to it too. I don’t understand why he’d be pissy about publicity. He’s famous too.”

  “He tries to forget that.”

  “The difference is that you embrace it, you make it work for you.” Addie’s grin returned. “Besides, you and I are both major extroverts, so we let it all hang out.”

  “Ethan’s about as far from an extrovert as someone can get.” Despite their teasing, Chelsea’s heart was heavy. She was angry at whoever started the stupid wedding rumor. She was angry at whoever took the damned picture. And she was angry at herself for being far too free with her words.

  “I should go,” Addie said as she pushed herself away from the door frame. “It doesn’t take long to get here from the restaurant. I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about.” Turning on her heel, she went to her office.

  Heading to the kitchen, Chelsea waited for her assistant to grab her stuff and take off.

  Addie stopped long enough to pop her head in. “Don’t forget your rehearsal tomorrow.”

  “I won’t. And thanks for being there for me, Addie.”

  “Anytime.”

  The door closing sounded as Chelsea grabbed a bottle of wine. A little fortification before Ethan arrived couldn’t hurt.

  Addie’s guidance still rang in her ears. As usual, it was good advice. The woman had insight, which she wasn’t shy about sharing. Time and time again, she’d saved Chelsea’s ass.

  But this time, that advice wasn’t at all easy to accept.

  The stubborn cork finally gave up the fight, so Chelsea poured herself a large glass of pinot noir. Hip against the island, she sipped at the sweet wine when what she wanted to do was chug it. In fact, she wanted to chug the whole damn bottle.

  This was a crossroads in her relationship with Ethan, and she knew things weren’t going to be simple any longer. Her fear was that loving him and knowing he loved her in return simply wasn’t going to be enough. She cherished his declaration, having not expected it from him. While she held his words deep inside her, she was a realist who was grounded in the crazy world she’d chosen to live in.

  A world he would never allow himself to be a part of.

  The doorbell startled her, and she was a little depressed that she’d lost herself so deeply in her worries. A glance told her that she’d polished off a lot of the wine.

  How long had she been moping?

  A second chime from her doorbell got her moving. “Coming!”

  Knowing security wouldn’t have let anyone but Ethan through, Chelsea opened the door to find the man she loved with a frosty scowl scary enough to make her wonder if he’d turned some of her hair gray.

  “Can I have some of that?” he asked, nodding at the glass she hadn’t realized she was still holding. “Or better yet, got any beer?”

  She backed up a few steps. “Of course! Come in, come in.”

  After he followed her to the kitchen, she got him a longneck from the refrigerator. He twisted the cap off and tossed it in the trash before tipping the bottle up and chugging a great deal of it.

  Smiling, she refilled her nearly empty glass and sipped her wine. Then an awkward silence settled over them. Each second seemed to pass as slowly as an hour until Chelsea couldn’t take it any longer. Disgusted with the quiet, she decided they needed an icebreaker. She put her glass down, plucked the beer from his hand, and set it aside. Fisting her hand in his shirt, she said in what she hoped was a sultry voice, “Follow me.”

 
Ethan obeyed, shuffling after her. When they reached her bedroom, she tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

  His mouth captured hers, and she let the warmth of his lips and the effects of the wine banish any hesitation. The same kind of desperation she’d felt only the night before was still there, prodding and pushing her to grab all the happiness she could while it was still within her reach. Unwilling to let the fear of what was to come dim her passion, she fumbled for his belt buckle, wanting to show him how much he meant to her.

  By the time she got his belt off and his jeans unbuttoned, Chelsea was panting with anticipation. As he reached for her, she brushed his hands away. Pulling down his pants, she dropped to her knees. “My turn.”

  * * *

  Ethan stared down at her, wondering exactly how much wine Chelsea had drank. Her kiss had been so forceful, so full of need, and he couldn’t seem to get a read on her mood. He’d come to her place braced for a confrontation. Instead, he’d found a passionate lover who made him want her every bit as much as she seemed to want him.

  The confrontation could wait.

  Perhaps she had the right idea. In all the time they’d been together, they had seemed so natural together. Tonight had been different. Maybe she’d felt that awkwardness as well, and this was her way to get them past the discomfort.

  He was more than willing to let her try.

  She dragged his boxers down, and he put a hand on her shoulder for balance as she helped him take off his boots and kick aside the clothing. His cock bobbed toward her, and damn if she didn’t lick her lips as she stared at it. Her warm fingers closed over the shaft, and he shut his eyes and let the thrill of her touch wash over him.