Ruined: An Ethan Frost Novel; A Loveswept New Adult Romance (19 page)

“I
was fifteen. Young and stupid and desperate to make friends. To have a shot at a normal life. We moved around a lot when I was young, never stayed in one place more than a few months. My dad was not exactly what you would call great at keeping a regular job.” Which is pretty much the understatement of the year, but there’s no need to get into that, too. The story about Brandon is more than enough to spring on Ethan right now.

“We moved to Boston when I was fourteen because there was a job opportunity my dad couldn’t pass up. It wasn’t a great job, at least not at first, so we pretty much lived in this crappy house in this crappy school district where we barely had enough desks, let alone books. It was ridiculous. Not to mention dangerous—there was a lot the school cops and metal detectors didn’t catch.

“I didn’t feel safe, not with the way that some of the guys talked to me or looked at me when I walked by them. Some of them had no problem touching, either, even if they’d never even talked to me. Girls were a commodity in a lot of ways, and guys thought they could treat us however they wanted. The administration had enough trouble keeping the guns out of school and the rival gangs from killing each other. They didn’t have much time or effort left to worry about anything less than actual assault.

“I didn’t know what to do, what to say to keep them away from me, and I didn’t have any friends to watch my back. I complained to my dad, but he said to just ignore them. That it wouldn’t be for much longer, just until the money started rolling in.

“But I’d heard that same story a million times through the years, and it never quite worked out the way my parents thought it would. Sure, now they had my brother and his brilliant ideas, but even the best ideas take financial backing. That’s what my dad was working on, or so he said. In the meantime, I was supposed to keep my head down and not cause trouble. I did my best, but there was always some other guy who thought he could slap my ass, brush an arm over my breasts. Who thought he could touch me whether I wanted him to or not.”

A breeze comes off the ocean and I shiver, though I don’t know if it’s because I’m cold or because of the story I’m telling. Probably a little bit of both. I don’t want to do this. Already I can feel the rage festering inside me—an angry wound just waiting for a chance to poison everything it touches. My new life. The internship. Ethan. Just the thought has me wanting to give up now, before I’ve barely begun.

But there’s Ethan, watching me with his steady, patient eyes. Holding me with his strong, tender hands. How can I not tell him when he so obviously needs me to?

The breeze gets stronger and I start to shiver in earnest now. He doesn’t say a word—probably afraid I’ll take any out to postpone the next few minutes—but he reaches into the outdoor chest that doubles as a coffee table and pulls out a blanket. He carefully wraps it around me, then picks me up and settles me back on his lap.

“I’m okay,” I tell him.

“I know you are.” His smile is full of gentle reassurance. “But I’m not sure I am. And I really need to be holding you if you’re about to tell me what I think you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m not stupid enough to turn down a hug.”

“Good.” His arms go around me, pull me closer until my body is flush against his. As he does, I rest my head on his chest for just a second, draw reassurance from the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. I can do this, I tell myself. It’s just a matter of stringing one word in front of the other until the whole story gets told.

“Even then, I knew I wanted something more than the life my parents had. More than living from bad job to bad job, crappy paycheck to crappy paycheck. Back then I thought I wanted to be a doctor, but either way—doctor, lawyer—I wasn’t going to get into a good college if I stayed at that shit hole of a school. Or so I thought. Add to that the fact that I felt unsafe every time I passed through the front doors…trying to get out of there was a no-brainer.

“So I started researching all the private schools in the area, finding out which ones offered scholarships. I found a few that weren’t that far away from my neighborhood—it would take two buses for me to get there every day, but it seemed a small price to pay to get out of the school I was in. To guarantee a better future for myself.

“All in all, I applied to seven schools. I made it to the interview process in four, and actually gained admittance—with a full scholarship—to three. I’d never felt more proud. I had gotten great test scores, aced the interviews, and for the first time in my life I had a chance at a normal life. Maybe even a better-than-normal life. Even my parents were excited, my dad certain that the contacts my admittance brought him would be good for his business. As if he had a business to talk about back then.”

I take a deep breath, focus on prying my hands out of fists so tightly clenched my nails are leaving half-moon grooves in my palms. So far, everything I’ve told him has been backstory, but the hard stuff is about to begin.

“I started at the academy the first day of my sophomore year. I was nervous, afraid no one would want anything to do with me because I was a scholarship kid. But to my relief, I fit in pretty well. I made a few friends that first week, and pretty soon I’d attracted the attention of one of the most popular seniors in the school.” I laugh, but it’s a sound devoid of mirth. Nothing that happened next is the least bit funny. At least not to me.

“I should have known better. What was a guy like that—popular, smart, funny, rich, gorgeous—doing with me? At the time I didn’t stop to think about it, but now I wish I had.” Now I wish I’d said no.

“Anyway, we went out a few times. He seemed nice. My parents liked him. He treated me right—or at least I thought he did. In retrospect I can see all the control games he played on me, all the times he messed with me just because he could. Because no one had ever told him he couldn’t do exactly what he wanted when he wanted to do it.

“Every time we went out, he’d push for more. First base, second base, even third base wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to fuck me, and he really didn’t give a shit how I felt about that.”

Ethan stiffens beneath me—I know he thinks he knows how this is going to end, but he’s wrong. The truth is so much more twisted and diabolical than he could ever imagine. I lived it and sometimes even I can’t believe it was true, can’t believe it really happened the way I remember it. But that has as much to do with my parents as it does the actual attack, and that’s a door I’m just not ready to open. Not for Ethan. Not for anyone.

“I probably should have dumped him, but I was caught up in being his girlfriend. I liked the popularity that came with it—for the first time in my life, I wasn’t the weird new girl—and I liked the fact that I belonged to someone. That he loved me. That he wanted to be with me. So when he wanted me to go with him to a party one night, I never even thought of saying no.

“Once we got there, I knew right away that something was up. It just didn’t feel right. There weren’t that many people there, for one, and most of the school parties were super crowded. Plus I didn’t recognize a lot of the people there.”

I close my eyes as I let myself think about that party—that night—for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s getting harder to get the words out, harder to control the trembling that’s seized control of the very core of my being. I’m trying to keep it under wraps, but I know it won’t be long before Ethan notices.

I don’t want him to figure it out. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I’ve already played the part of the basket case tonight, already done the whole freak-out thing. If I’m going to tell this story, I want to do it on my terms. I don’t ask for much. Just for the chance to keep a little bit of dignity, a little bit of my pride intact.

“We’re not there very long before Chad ditches me. He’s drinking, playing poker with some of the guys. Generally making a total ass of himself—something he did pretty regularly, if I’m being honest. Anyway, to make a long story short, he ends up losing all his money, something like five or six hundred dollars. It was a ton of money to me back then, but barely pocket change to him. Which is why what happens next is so bizarre, the whole thing is so absurd. The money meant nothing to him. Nothing. So why he did what he did—”

I can feel the tears in my throat, hear them in my voice. So I stop talking for long seconds as I try to get control of myself. Ethan’s arms tighten around me, and then he’s stroking a soothing hand down my spine. Murmuring more of those wordless sounds of comfort.

It works. Somehow I find the strength to push this latest round of tears back. Taking a deep breath, I focus on getting the rest of the story out. I want to get to the end, want to get it over with.

“So he’s drunk and pissed that he lost. It’s more about his pride than the money at that point. So he asks the guys if he can put a different wager on the table. Something worth a lot more than a couple Benjamins.” I shake my head. “He actually talked like that, actually believed what he was saying. Some poor little rich boy playing gangsta in his rich little world.

“He wanted to make me his stake. Said if he lost, whoever won the pot could take me in the back room and—” My voice breaks again.

“The son of a bitch.” The rage in Ethan’s voice is palpable. I wait for him to ask if I agreed, if I let him use me like I was his property, but the questions never come. I don’t understand. My parents asked. The cops asked. Even my so-called friends wanted to know if I’d agreed to do what Chad wanted. If I had let him use me like a goddamned bankroll.

But not Ethan. There’s no judgment in the way he holds me, no recriminations. Just pure, unadulterated comfort. I sink into it, let it wash over me as I get to the last part of my story. The worst part. I can’t help wondering if this is going to do it. If this is what will change his compassion to disgust, his understanding to blame.

“I tell Chad to go to hell. And I walk out of the party without a backward glance. I might have been slow on the uptake when it came to him, but I wasn’t a moron. No way was I going to let him treat me like that.

“The only problem? I’m a long way from home and my cheap shoes are already hurting my toes. So when one of the boys from the party pulls up in his fancy car and offers me a ride, I take it. I know him from school and he seems nice enough. Harmless. He’s a casual friend of Chad’s and he apologizes for Chad’s behavior. Tells me he’s being a real jerk. Which he is, obviously.

“So I give him directions to my house. And I’m worried because I don’t want anyone to know where I live. Chad knows, but he’s never said anything, never acted like it was a big deal. At least until he tried to sell me for two hundred dollars. But I don’t know this guy very well and the last thing I want spread around school is how poor I am. It definitely won’t go well for me on Monday if he tells anyone. That’s just the kind of school it is—and the kind of crowd I’m trying to fit into.

“But at the same time, it’s already after midnight and I’m not stupid enough to have him drop me somewhere else and walk home. It’s a bad neighborhood. Anything can happen.” I laugh then, a dark, tortured kind of thing. “I was such an idiot.”

“No. You trusted somebody you shouldn’t. That doesn’t make you an idiot.” Ethan’s voice is firm, unwavering. As his hands continue to stroke me, gentle me.

“It doesn’t make me a very good judge of character, either. Chad. This guy.” My parents.

“You were young.”

“I was a fool. I trusted him because he wore nice clothes and had a nice smile and drove a nice car. I never thought—I never thought a popular, smart guy like him would stop the car in an empty parking lot at the edge of my neighborhood. I never thought he’d shove me down. Rip my dress. Rip my underwear. Rape me. I never thought—”

My voice breaks, and Ethan’s arms tighten around me. I’m trembling so badly that I can barely sit on his lap. Or at least I think it’s me until he puts one unsteady hand on my cheek and I realize that he’s the one who’s trembling.

I look up, surprised, and nearly recoil at the rage on his face. In his eyes. I’ve seen Ethan with a lot of different looks on his face in the last week—amusement, joy, concentration, disgust, annoyance, anger, happiness, peace—but I’ve never seen him anywhere close to displaying this kind of fury. His whole face is alight with it, his gaze burning with it. His whole body literally shaking with it.

He doesn’t say anything, but I get the impression that that’s because he can’t. That his anger is so great that the words just won’t form.

Guilt swamps me, joins all the rest of the emotions swimming around inside me. I’ve done this. I’ve brought this strong, beautiful man to the point where he’s all but incoherent with rage. It’s not a good sign, given that he’s considered by many to be one of the most articulate CEO’s in the world.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m so sorry.”

He finds his voice then. “I already told you not to say that. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I got in the car with him. I trusted him.”

“There’s nothing wrong with trusting someone.”

“But I trusted the wrong people all along. From the very beginning, every decision I made brought me closer to that moment. I could have stayed put at my local public high school—at least there I knew what I was getting. I could have chosen a better boyfriend, been less impressed with who Chad was and more focused on who he wasn’t. I could have gone out with my brother instead of to that stupid party—Miles had wanted to see a movie that night. And I could have been smarter and never gotten into that car.

“Everything that happened to me that night happened because I made bad choices. That’s on me, not on anybody else. I set the whole chain of events in motion. If I’d been smarter, none of it would have happened.”

It’s my secret shame, my culpability in everything that happened that night and in what came after. I made the choices, no one else. I believed nice, rich boys who were born into luxury would never hurt me. Never force me. Never rape me.

I really had been a total moron.