by L. S. Pullen
What the fuck?
He gives me an odd look but says nothing as I turn and lock the door behind me.
“What’s wrong with you?” I whisper to my reflection. “It’s a toothbrush, not a damn engagement ring.”
I grip the edge of the counter and slowly count to ten in my head, concentrating on my breathing. He just did something to me no man has ever done before, and I’m freaking out over a spare fucking toothbrush.
When I come back out, Ethan is lying in bed, the cover at his waist and his arm behind his head.
Does he always look so damn beautiful?
He turns his face to me and pats the space beside him. I climb in and he wraps his arm over my shoulder and pulls me to his side, my head beneath his chin.
Something is shifting between us, and I can’t keep ignoring it. I know I need to talk to him about it, because the longer this goes on, the harder it is to deny that my feelings for him run deeper than even I could have imagined.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course.” It’s a lie, but I don’t know if I’m ready to address the barrage of thoughts currently bombarding me, either.
He kisses the top of my head, and I push up a little.
“Don’t suppose you have a hairdryer?” I ask on a whim.
“No, sorry.”
“It’s fine. I thought I’d check. Let me go grab a hairband from my clutch.”
I shift off the bed and pad downstairs. When I find it, I check my phone and let Olly know I’ll be back at his in the morning and that I’m staying at my friends––technically not a lie.
I’m tying my hair into a bun when there’s a loud banging at Ethan’s front door, and I freeze. What the fuck? Then there’s the sound of keys, followed by the lock clicking and the brush of a cold breeze as the door opens.
I don’t know why, but I let out some kind of garbled scream as a tall figure steps inside.
I’m clutching my chest when the hallway light is flicked on and standing before me is Nathan. He looks at me, slightly unsteady on his feet, and leans a hand against the wall. Loud footsteps descend the stairs as Ethan comes rushing down and stands beside me.
“What the fuck, Nathan?” Ethan questions.
“Fuck, sorry, man,” Nathan says, but his speech is slightly slurred, and as his eyes try to focus, he looks between the two of us.
“Man, the key is for emergencies,” Ethan says, a little exasperated.
Nathan shakes his head. “I did text,” he says, and then he sags against the wall. “Sorry, you’re busy. I’ll go.”
Ethan steps forward to stop him before he tries to leave and closes the door.
“Nathan, it’s fine. I didn’t hear my phone. It’s in my trousers,” he says, his eyes glancing to the front room where they’re still laying haphazardly on the floor with the rest of our clothing. “What’s up, man?” he asks.
“Oh, nothing, just drank too much,” he says. He looks between the two of us. “I didn’t know you were together,” he says, pointing and stepping towards me, but his movements are clumsy.
I suddenly feel very exposed in only a T-shirt, and I pull at the hem.
Ethan looks back at me and gives me a look I can’t quite decipher.
“Yeah, well, we haven’t told anyone yet,” Ethan replies.
I swallow. Yet?
“Well, mum’s the word,” he says, but I can tell even in his intoxicated state that he’s a little shocked to find me here. “And on that note, I think I’ll go crash at my mum’s.”
Ethan takes hold of his arm.
“No, man, the spare room is yours. It’s late and you’re pissed.”
And it doesn’t take much coaxing from Ethan as he guides Nathan upstairs.
“You lucky bastard,” Nathan says, throwing a look over his shoulder and trying to give me a conspiratorial wink.
I don’t hear Ethan’s reply, only the sounds of their heavy movements overhead and the occasional crash or bump.
Scooping up my dress and bra, I wonder if I should make myself scarce and call a cab. I dig out my phone.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Ethan asks, coming back downstairs and making up the distance between us.
I bite my lip. “I don’t know… maybe I should?” I say, my eyes rising to the ceiling.
“No, please don’t. He’s already out for the count. If he remembers, he won’t say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that. Do you think he’s okay?” I ask.
Ethan grabs the back of his neck. “I honestly don’t know; he’s not been himself, and I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling that might have something to do with me.
He dips his head so we’re eye level. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Please stay, Lottie.”
His eyes are pleading. How am I meant to say no to him when he’s looking at me like that?
“Okay, as long as you’re sure?”
He smiles, and before I know what’s happening, his lips are on mine. When we pull apart, we’re both breathing heavily, and the look in his eyes tells me he was affected as much as I was.
He shrugs and gives me a wicked grin before sweeping up his trousers and pulling out his phone. His expression looks a little forlorn.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
“Yeah, just reading the messages from Nathan. Let me grab him a glass of water and a bowl, just in case he needs to be sick,” he says, handing me his phone.
He turns me inside out, it’s just how considerate he is. Anyone else might have let Nathan get in a cab and go somewhere else, but not Ethan. He didn’t even hesitate to tell him to stay. I stare down at his unlocked phone. This new level of openness is foreign to me, something I’ve never had with anyone else before, and I’m torn. Do I finally tell him I want more? Maybe now isn’t the best time?
“Are you coming?” he asks over his shoulder, already making his way back upstairs.
I nod and follow him, waiting in his room while he sees to Nathan before coming in and closing the door behind him.
He gently takes my clothes, purse, and phone from me and places them down.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, leading me over to the bed.
“What are you apologising for?” I ask, placing my hand over his chest, his heart a familiar staccato beat.
“The interruption,” he whispers, his hands moving up and underneath the T-shirt I’m wearing, his fingers making a lazy trail over my bare flesh.
I shiver from the contact, my nipples hardening.
“It happens,” I say in response, my voice a low whisper matching his.
I step back and his body moves with mine until the back of my calves meet the mattress. His hands move to my face and his musky scent washes over me.
My heart beats faster as his lips slowly descend, brushing against mine so softly. Every kiss with him takes me higher and somewhere deeper. The power he has over me is both unnerving and exhilarating––I don’t know how he does it, but I’m not sure I ever want him to stop.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ethan
It's been a few days since I drove Lottie back to Olly's and dropped her off a few houses down. She looked to-die-for getting out of my car, wearing her dress from the night before, and damn if I don't still have the image etched in my memory.
I'd wanted to talk to her about us, but when she came outside looking like my every fantasy, I had to have her. I couldn't resist, and then Nathan turned up.
Of course, I'd hoped Nathan would be too drunk to remember the whole interaction, but there was no such luck. On my way back home after dropping Lottie off, I grabbed us both some breakfast from the Golden Arches, and when I walked back through the front door, he was just dragging himself out of bed. He looked like shit. I tried to find out what was going on with him, but he deflected and was far more interested in what I was doing with Lottie. He was egging
me on and pushing my buttons, but when he realised I cared for her––and it wasn't just about sex––he eased up but told me we should come clean. As though hiding it implied we were doing something dirty. I love doing filthy things with her, don't get me wrong, but she is not and never will be a dirty little secret.
It wasn't until I drove him home that we both noticed Meg's absence, which was weird. She was practically living here since they became official and Henry gained custody of Jacob. Henry should have been on cloud fucking nine. I asked him if everything was all right, but it obviously wasn't. Part of me wondered if I should reach out to Meg, but I decided against it. I'd be here for them both if they wanted to talk, but I wasn't going to push, and I damn well didn't want to be caught in the middle of whatever was happening.
But Henry has pretty much been like a bear with a sore head the past few days; hence, here we are back in the gym, him pounding into shit and working on some weights.
I'm caught up in my thoughts when Nathan's loudmouth disrupts me.
"No fucking way," he says, standing up, pacing, scrolling his phone. "Emilio has apparently tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs," he says, bringing his phone to his ear and stepping away.
I look to Henry, who is on his feet, bouncing from one to the other, his jaw hanging open. He looks as gobsmacked as I feel.
"Fuck me," I blurt out, scrubbing my hand over my stubbled chin.
Nathan walks back over. "Yeah, it's true. He's been suspended," he says.
Henry falls back to the bench, and I reach out and grip his shoulder. "Looks like karma finally caught up to him," I say, and wonder if whoever Olly was talking to about our suspicions came through for us. "Two-fold."
Not only did the fucker get was coming to him from Henry, but he also finally got caught.
"Yeah, but it was too little too late for you," Henry says, and I hear the frustration in his words, but he needs to let it go. I have.
"Well, he's ruined more than his career. You'll see his management team drop him, as will his sponsors. He's well and truly fucked this time."
There is no way he can come back from this, and if I'm honest, a small part of me––the part which grew up with him and who was friends with him––actually feels sorry for him. For how lost he became. But we all make our choices, and he made his.
"I think we should celebrate," Nathan says, but I can't imagine he'd want to go anywhere near alcohol after how wasted he was the other night.
Olly approaches us with a smug expression, eying Nathan. "Celebrate what?" he asks.
"Emilio was suspended. Tested positive for drugs," I say, unable to keep the smile from my face.
"Shut the front door," he replies, but there doesn't appear to be any surprise in his response, and I know my suspicions were indeed correct.
Henry rises to his feet. "Hold up. Olly, you pulled it off, but how?" he asks.
"I went to the head of the board and told them someone was tampering with the testing, and sure enough…" Olly says and gives a nonchalant shrug.
Henry has him in a bear hug before he can blink. "Seriously, Olly, you are the man," he says, stepping back.
Olly gives him a wink. "What are best friends for?"
Henry smiles, but it falls as he glances at his watch.
"Has anyone seen Meg?" he asks.
I shake my head and mentally calculate her rota. It was the same as when we were together, and Olly must be having the same thought as he scans the gym.
And then he has his phone to his ear. "No answer," he says, furrowing his brow.
Henry’s jaw tenses and he tries his phone next.
"She wouldn't… would she?" he says, almost to himself.
I frown. "Wouldn't what?" I question.
"Return the drugs to Emilio." His hands are in his hair and he steps left and right.
And fuck me if the bottom of my stomach doesn't drop out, and even though I know it's fruitless, I try her phone next.
My pulse is racing, and my ears are buzzing with adrenaline.
"It's ringing out," I say, pacing. "You don't think he'd do something stupid?" I ask.
This guy just lost it all, and I wouldn't put anything past him at this point.
"What's going on?" a voice asks, filled with confusion and concern.
I come to a sudden stop and wonder if I'm hearing things, but when I look up, Lottie is staring at me, her eyes piercing blue, and I'm momentarily rendered speechless.
"It's Meg. She didn't show up for work," Henry replies.
I'm a little taken aback when she rolls her eyes. "And here I thought Olly was a tad protective. Guys, she's a grown woman, and from what he's told me," she says, pointing her thumb to Olly, "she's also a bad arse trainer."
Her blatant disregard for Meg only fuels my concern and anger.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," I grind out, unable to keep my voice calm.
Her eyes widen and she takes a step back, and I don't miss the wave of hurt which crosses her features.
"Okay, man, no need to be a dick," Olly says.
But it does nothing to stem my internal struggle.
"It's fine," Lottie replies before anyone else says another word, but the way her eyes are piercing mine tells me it's anything but fine. "I'll catch you later," she says.
Olly kisses her cheek and says thank you, but she's staring at me when she speaks. "Of course. Text me later." And then she walks away without a backwards glance, but I can't worry about her, not right now.
Henry suggests checking with the reception, and I want to kick myself. We should have thought of that first. What if we're all panicking over nothing? But my gut tells me otherwise. I even suggest we call her dad.
But when Olly calls Henry's name, I already know this isn't going to be good.
"Rachel just rang. She was on the phone with Meg when she heard her gasp Emilio's name and then got cut off. She tried calling her back, but she wouldn't answer."
I tense. I fucking knew it.
"Fuck," Henry grits out.
"Any idea where they might be?" Olly asks. I know he's trying to remain calm, but even I don't miss the panic in his voice.
"Emilio's," Henry and I say at the same time, our twin-dar clearly on the same wavelength.
None of us even need to speak as we all rush outside and clamber into Nathan's car.
Olly and I both squeeze into the back, something else you'd likely not see on any given Sunday.
"Please, man, hurry. I have a bad feeling about this," Henry says.
You and me both, brother.
"Try not to get us pulled over," Olly says, gripping Henry's headrest, trying to remain calm.
The drive to Emilio's is excruciating. Even though I'm pretty sure Nathan broke the speed limit more than once, he's barely pulled up to the kerb when Henry practically barrels out of the car and sprints to the house.
We're not far behind him when he calls over his shoulder. "Olly, Nathan, go round back, see if you can get in."
I watch Henry on his hands and knees, hunting through a flower bed as I pound on the door. I'm about to ask what the fuck he's doing when he jumps to his feet.
"I know you're in there. I'll call the police," he roars.
And then I swear everything slows down as the door begins to open. It's not until Henry moves a fraction that I see what has his entire body going rigid—Emilio is holding Meg with a knife to her throat.
Chapter Thirty
Charlotte
I’ve never seen Ethan act that way, least of all with me. It was as though he didn’t even see me, and then when he did… the way he spoke to me with venom in his voice was like a physical blow. My hands are still shaking as I sit in my car when I notice Ethan running towards me. Or so I thought until I saw Henry, Olly and Nathan rushing past, all of them cramming into a Mini Cooper, wheels spinning as it speeds out of the car park.
“What the fuck?”
Leaning over the centre console, I grab my bag, pull
out my phone, and dial Rachel.
“Hi,” she says, almost breathless.
“Hi, listen, do you know if everything is okay? I just came to the gym to see Olly, and they left like their arses were on fire.”
I hear her curse under her breath. “Shit, yeah, it’s Meg. We think she’s in trouble.”
“Oh, shit.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to push aside my hurt.
“Lottie, are you there?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, yeah.”
“Listen, I’m at Olly’s. Come here and I’ll tell you everything.”
Agreeing, I hang up, ashamed to say I drive in somewhat of a daze until I pull up outside. Rachel already has the door open when I’m walking up the path, and Buster comes running out and circles my feet. I bend down to pet him behind the ears and look up.
“Have you heard anything?” I ask, standing up and stepping inside.
She shakes her head. “No, nothing.”
I can see she’s worried, and not just for Meg, but for Olly too. Since the accident, she still fusses over him, and honestly, I can’t blame her.
Without thinking, I pull her into a hug. She’s become a good friend, and I’m glad Olly has her and Molly.
“Aunt Lottie,” squeals Molly, and I reach down and pull her up into my arms.
“Wow, you’re getting heavy,” I say, flicking her on the end of the nose.
She just laughs. “Wanna see my unicorn tent?” she asks, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Molly, give her a chance to get in the door,” Rachel says.
“Sorry,” she replies with a pout, and I let her back down.
“Do you want a tea?” Rachel asks as she checks her phone before glancing back at me.
I nod. Molly is standing beside me, her head cast down, her hands behind her back.
“Hey, Mol, you want to show me this tent real quick?”
Her smile is contagious as she wraps her fingers around mine and pulls me in the direction of the living room.
Between an armchair and the sofa, they’ve pitched a makeshift tent out of a unicorn sheet. She crawls inside, pokes her head out, and crooks her finger for me to do the same.