Ethans Fal (33 page)

“Well that makes two of us…I want to know why he picked you. I could handle the rejection because, well, he never picked anyone but this…you!” She spits her words like the foul taste they are.

“Me…honestly, I have no idea, Sky, but I can tell you why he wouldn’t choose you. Ethan is good and kind. He doesn’t deserve someone like you, if you were the last cock juggling slut on earth.”

Sky barks out a bitter laugh but I can’t hold back a snicker; who knew Ada had such a filthy mouth? Fuck now I am really hard.

“Oh, yes, do look at me like I am the bitch in this situation.” Sky draws in a deep breath and a cruel smile spreads across her lips, as she looks between Ada and me. “Did you tell him?”

“Sky,” Ada’s voice catches and her colour drains. “Please,” she is begging but it is nothing like the sound I crave when we make love.

“I’ll take that as a no…so I’m the bitch. All I want is a fuck… you…you want to steal his whole fucking future.” Sky waves an accusing finger like a brandishing weapon.

“What? What are you talking about, Sky? Ada what’s she talking about?” I step toward Ada as tears fall down her cheek, her head dips, and her voice is barely audible.

“Please don’t, Sky.” She looks up and my heart breaks at the devastation but I do nothing to help because a part of me wants to hear what Sky is going to say. I want to know one of Ada’s secrets, even if I hate myself for letting it happen like this, I can’t bring myself to stop it.

“Tell him why you were in a coma for two years, Ada.” Ada cracks and folds in on herself and I take it all back, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know anything that will hurt her like this.

“Shut the fuck up, Sky!” I growl and push her back, she stumbles and sits on the sofa. I stand next to Ada but she has shut down. I can feel the isolation like a physical barrier. Her eyes are empty when she looks at me.

“You need to know.” Ada whispers her lips are dry but for the tears drenching her face.

“No, angel, I don’t…you don’t have to tell me anything. I love you, Ada…no matter what. I love you, understand?” I cup her cheeks, she trembles under my fingertips but she doesn’t get to keep her secret and she doesn’t get the chance to tell me her truth.

“She’s broken, not a real woman, Ethan…She can never have children.” Sky’s triumphant declaration destroys this perfect creature in front of me. She closes her eyes and when I round on Sky with all my fury, as she tries to slip out of the room.

“You’re not a bitch, Sky, you’re a fucking monster…Who does something like that for a fuck! What is wrong with you?” My anger is seeping out of the pores, I am so full with it.

“It wasn’t just a fuck, it was you…I want you, Ethan. I want you and you wanted me…that’s why you saved me…that’s why we never fucked, you were saving me, until her. You deserve a real woman, Ethan. I can give you children…our children.” She is screaming like a banshee and I can think of nothing more abhorrent that having a child with her. I would rather never have children. I would rather have Ada.

“FUCK!” I SCREAM
and whimper as I balance my profusely bleeding toe under the cold running tap in Ethan’s ensuite, trying to numb the pain and stop the flow. The redness in the water makes me think this could be a lengthy process and I don’t think I have much time. I hit the fire escape door on the bar and ran flat out through the street, up the cobbled path and only came to a screeching halt when my flip flop lost its integrity and curled over on a jutted piece of pavement, taking my big toe nail with it. I fucking hate flip flops. It’s no good, the blood incessantly pumps a deep red river in the constant stream of water. It just isn’t stopping and I don’t want to be here when Ethan gets back. If he even decides to follow me after what Sky…Oh, God, I can’t believe she would use something so brutally painful to betray a moment of weakness when I shared something so private. I take no comfort from the fact that I didn’t tell her more of my story. I saw the look on Ethan’s face. That was enough, his anger was clear but pity transformed his handsome face on hearing Sky’s bitter judgement on my infertility. Squeezing my eyes tight at the pain–not the searing throbbing in my toe but the agony that is cleaving my chest open. I don’t know what’s worse, that she told the truth before I could or that it is just one of a series of devastating truths that will ensure Ethan wants nothing to do with me. He shouldn’t have anything to do with me.

His eyes softened and my stomach turned. I suppose pity is better than disgust though and that is the expression I would rightly deserve if he knew the whole truth. No, I don’t want either.

I grab a wad of cotton wool and press it against the gaping flesh that used to be protected by and cute shiny pink nail. I hiss at the sharp sting–how could something so tiny hurt so fucking much?–but at least it is distracting. I take a length of toilet tissue and wrap the cotton padding in place with several loops of tissue around my foot. Hopping into the bedroom I gingerly pull two of Ethan’s socks onto my tender foot to keep the padding in place and hopefully prevent me bleeding any more over the floor. The place looks like I’ve dragged a dead animal in for slaughter as it is, with streaks and smears of red decorating the polished wooden floor. Not my problem and I haven’t got any on the rugs. I quickly stuff my clothes and well, I look around to try and identify any part of my life I might lay claim to, but there is nothing. Fitting really, I pretty much only have a handful of outfits and a library book in my ruck sack when I turn to leave. I grab my shoulder bag and hop over to the door. I may not be making a speedy get-away but I am getting away. Sheila might still be awake but I know where the studio key is and I can sort the rest of my shitty life out in the morning.

I open the door but I can’t step through; I can’t get past the mass of male mountain blocking the entire doorway.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Ethan growls, certainly no trace of pity in his feral eyes. His is radiating rage in seismic waves.

“Ethan, I think it’s for the best–” I straighten my back not to be intimidated by the sternest, penetrating stare fixing me to the spot.

“Oh, really?” His eyes narrow and I can see he is clenching his jaw with some force, because the little muscle is jumping like it is wired to the national grid. “And why would…shit you’re bleeding!” He stops whatever he was going to say and looks from my bleeding foot back to my eyes. Before I can explain, he has swept me into his arms and I am overcome by a surge of joy I feel at the romantic drama of the gesture. Cradled in his strong arms, tender, secure, and treasured, I am suddenly terrified I crave this more than me keeping my secrets. He lays me on the bed like I am the most precious cargo and then growls.

“Don’t even think about moving or I
will
tie you to the bed. I am going to get the first aid kit.” He elevates my foot on a cushion, his socks are now mottled patches of white fighting a losing battle against the tide of red. When he returns he has a small bowl of water and a red case tucked under his arm. He opens the first aid kit and lays out the supplies as carefully as a surgeon might prepare for a heart operation. It hurts but really it’s just a toe. He flicks his eyes up and they meet mine, but a deep scowl furrows his brow and he drops his gaze back to my foot. He carefully pulls the sock wide and peels it over the end, squeezing some warm water on the tissue he then picks the layers of padding free. I am glad he folded a towel several times and placed it under my foot or the cushion would be ruined. The wound doesn’t seem to be gushing but it still trickles with a steady flow of fresh blood.

“That looks painful.” He soaks some gauze, then begins cleaning and applying some pressure to try and stop the bleeding.

“Ya think?” I quip and wince when he presses a little too hard on the torn, sensitive flesh.

“Good.” He raises a brow but his face is stern. My mouth snaps shut at his callous retort. “I am so fucking mad at you!” His tone is barely containing the rage that is coursing through his veins but he could’ve avoided me altogether if he’d stayed at the bar.

“Well another ten minutes I would no longer be around to make you mad, so you only have yourself to blame, Ethan. I am sorry you found out like that but given your reaction it’s hardly surprising I didn’t tell you myself, now is it?” He freezes and the look that transforms his face from incredulous to utter fury has me inching away, stretching my leg because his grip on my ankle is now like a vice. The menace in his softly spoken words is so much more chilling than if he were shaking the foundations with his shouts of anger.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I am mad at you for running. I don’t give a shit about what Sky said, whether it was even true–”

“It’s true.” I blurt before my brain decides to weave more lies. I can at least own up to this because he deserves to know.

“And that matters because…hmm?” He fixes me with such intensity he could ask me anything and I am afraid I couldn’t lie.

“Because I can’t have children, Ethan.” I spit my own hopeless anger but feel the slice of sorrow cut deep inside. His face is impassive only a raised brow of curiosity for me to continue my sorry tale. “I can’t have children and I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. It’s important and you deserved to know, in case you thought we had a future. You need to know we don’t. I guess I should thank Sky for doing something I was too much of a coward to do.” I close my eyes against the prickle of tears but give up fighting and let them fall. Ethan is instantly on me sliding underneath and surrounding me in is comforting embrace.

“We’ll thank her later…maybe get some, ‘You’re such a star, Sky’ T-shirts printed.” I can’t believe he’s made me snicker when I have a fucking well of sadness swirling in my soul, but he does. It is only a brief respite and the tears start again. “Shh shh, Angel. I can’t believe you would think that was important…to me of all people. You know I don’t know if I would even be alive if I wasn’t adopted. There are so many babies in the world angel, I really couldn’t care less if I had one of my own making, even if I could I would still adopt.” I look up at his face, his lips curl with a shy tender smile and I think my heart just breaks with the sadness behind his good intentions. “But I am happy you are considering such an important thing for us to discuss…I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s a little fast what with you just moving in, but sure we can talk about kids.” He hugs me a little tighter and flashes a seriously wide smile in an attempt to coax one from me but I can’t. This is just the tip of my secret iceberg. Would he feel the same if he knew I was an escaped mental patient, that the thought of going back terrifies me enough I can’t ask for help to find my own child–who could be anywhere, with anyone, alone, maybe like he was.

“How old were you when you were adopted again?” My question surprises him and his eyes widen then soften with understanding that churns in my stomach because it is wholly misplaced. It’s not that I don’t want to know more about his childhood, I am ashamed it has more to do with why I want to know.

“I was five, I remember being really scared. I didn’t know any of the new people in my life but I do remember seeing my mum for the first time. She looked like an angel and she was so soft and smelled like flowers not highly perfumed like the women in the brothel. Hardly any make up and she was so pretty. She just held me when I started to cry and I never felt so safe…l felt loved. All my memories started the day my parents brought me home.” He looks at me with a touch of lost love in his dark chocolate eyes.