Page 32 of Watch Me Burn
But what if Ethan hated me? What if this was all a waste of time, dirtying a grave that’d been rightly dug?
So what!
I wouldn’t cower from pain if it meant bringing justice to those I loved. And that could include Ethan still . . .
The memory of his moans and whispers brushing my collarbone had me on fire for weeks. The way his husky voice rolled my name on his tongue, and the way his rough fingers felt when they trailed down my waist to explore inside of me.
“Actually,” I shouted downstairs. “I have to make an important phone call. You guys go ahead. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I had to call him. I had to talk to him now. Or I would quickly go insane.
Chapter 15
Ethan
“Another rejection,” I grumbled under my breath. The moldy smell of my small room was like a punch in the face and didn’t help all these rejections one bit.
I was into my first weekend of job hunting, and my search wasn’t looking great so far. I knew that this was a minor thing to get heated over considering I’d once dealt with living in prison, but it was tough to stay optimistic when every employer chucked my application within minutes of me typing a detailed writeup.
If only anyone would dare trust me to work my ass off for them.
Reclining frustratedly in my chair behind the desk, I gave myself a harsh reminder of my circumstances. I literally just got started renewing my life, and regardless of what came of this weekend, I was out of prison. No number of stuck-up employers would change that.
My eyes flitted to my door, thinking about grabbing water from the kitchen, but I was starting to get irked by the memory of my roommate sitting out there over gas station Thanksgiving dinners trying to get into some woman’s pants.
Rising to my feet, I strolled to my bed. A bitter chuckle bubbled in my throat. I remembered what transpired between Anna and I, how she’d love to have gone with that guy at the café first instead of shacking up with some ex-convict who couldn’t even face her. And although it was for the better, for her own good, I remembered how she never even checked in with me, most likely hating my guts now.
My hand slid down into my khaki pant’s pockets. I checked my phone: no notifications, no missed calls.
Nathan said he’d talk to Anna over Thanksgiving—which was today. It was supposed to be my one last chance to make things right with her and salvage the case I knew we were so close to cracking.
Sighing, I was about to tuck my phone back out of sight. But since I’d forgotten to silence it beforehand, it blasted my ringtone right as I was about to sit down again.
“Shit,” I hissed while fumbling to quiet my phone. Then I saw her name.
“Anna!” I exclaimed.
Clumsily, I accepted her call.
“Hey,” I said once our call was connected. I wanted to blurt out my apology, say how badly I missed her. But everything I’d felt over the past few weeks was caught in my throat, a frozen block of emotions that hadn’t readied themselves to come tumbling out.
“I’m so sorry, Ethan,” Anna blurted, cutting straight to the point. I didn’t know how to reply.
I stammered, “I . . . I should be the one saying that.”
In a gentle tone, she replied, “Guess I outsmarted you this time around.”
My voice softened. “I’m sorry for what unfolded in that parking lot. But let’s be clear, Anna. The man you witnessed, that monster, is a piece of me. Should anyone harm you again, my reaction would be no different.” I felt a blush creeping up my face as I spoke without restraint. No more secrets could hide between us. For this partnership to thrive, honesty about who we were and what we expected was vital.
Anna cleared her throat. “I . . . I’ve started to realize that I didn’t treat you like I should have.” Sighing, she added, “I was so swamped in pain and confusion, and work, that I didn’t think clearly and made poor choices. I should’ve run it by you that I was smoothing out this issue with my mom. Especially with the meeting that’s been ticking with Mr. Lautner. It’s just every time I look at you, I see—”
“A monster?”
“No. The amazing boy I once loved so much. And the weakest point in my life reflected back at me. How I let you down. How I just listened to the police and my mother. My dad was always the one who caught me when I was lost. But with him gone . . .”
My jaw dropped in astonishment. All this time, I hadn’t considered what it was like to be on the side of the little girl who trembled at her father’s corpse, observing the best friend she cherished hovering above him. She was forced to sputter whatever she could to the police, and inevitably, lost two people she cared about without a single answer to her wails.
I balled a fist to help with the pain in my chest.
