“Are you okay?” he asks softly in that concerned, thoughtful tone of his and I want to punch him. Just smack his beautiful face, hurt him, make him bleed. Tear him apart, like he’s doing to me at this very moment.
I say nothing, just hold out his phone toward him. He takes it from me, glancing at the screen, his face blanching as he sees the text I just read.
The text that has ruined my entire world.
He glances up at me, his gaze haunted, his expression a mixture of determination and alarm as he starts, “Katie . . .”
“Just tell me why,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear any excuses. I can’t breathe. I’m hurt and humiliated and full of so much anger, so much rage over what he’s done. How could he do this? And for what purpose? “Why did you lie to me?”
He shakes his head, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Just—stop,” I say, my voice low, my head starting to pound. “Are you trying to tell me that text wasn’t meant for you?” Oh God, I can’t believe this. I cannot even begin to wrap my head around what I just discovered.
“Katie, please. Calm down.”
“Tell me the truth!” I shriek, surprising him. Surprising myself. My heart feels like it’s been sliced in two. It hurts. What he’s done, it hurts so bad. “Are you Will? My Will?”
Ethan doesn’t say a word for seconds. Minutes. The longer he doesn’t speak, the guiltier he sounds. “Look,” he finally says. “I can explain . . .”
“Fuck you!” I’ve never said that to anyone in my life and it feels . . . good. Satisfying. Empowering. “Fuck you and your explanations. You lied to me. Got close to me, tricked me by pretending to be someone else, and then you get me in bed, have sex with me like it’s some sort of sick joke and . . . now what? Were you going to tell Lisa Swanson all about me? How you fooled me into believing you’re a good guy who’s interested in me instead of someone from my past? Someone I’d rather forget?”
That last line is a lie. I’m just trying to hurt him and from the look on his face, I think it worked.
“Katie, stop. Listen.” He grabs hold of my upper arms and I try to shake him off but it’s no use. He’s too strong. “I am a good guy who’s interested in you. I swear. I care about you, Katie. I always have.”
He always has. Those words touch me, despite my anger. “Then why the lies?” I hate that I respond to his hands on me. My skin is tingling, my body warm at having him so near. I want to drop-kick him. Nail him in the balls with my foot and watch him slump to the floor, moaning in agony. Anything to see him feel even a fraction of the pain I’m currently experiencing. “Why, Ethan? Or should I say Will?”
He flinches, as if he doesn’t like being called that. So many questions run through my mind, none that I can ask, because that would mean I care and he’s the absolute last person I should care about.
Ethan is really my Will. My Will. I can’t believe it. I seriously cannot believe this is happening. Why all the lies, the trickery? What did he hope to gain from this? I don’t understand.
“If you could calm down for just a moment, I can explain,” he starts, but his words only increase my anger.
“I don’t want to hear your shitty explanations.” I jerk out of his hold and push past him, but I hear him fall into step behind me, like he’s chasing me through his house. I go to the living room in search of my purse and shoes and I find them both, slipping on my boots and grabbing my purse so I can sling it over my shoulder.
“Katie, goddamn it, wait,” he demands as I make my way to the front door.
I pause there, my hand on the doorknob, my head bent. I’m not crying, which I find hard to believe, but I’m so pissed, so utterly baffled and in disbelief over what I’ve just discovered, I swear I’m in shock.
“I-I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t even begin to explain what happened, how we both ended up here, but just know that I never . . . meant to hurt you.”
Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the cool wood of the front door. My mind races with endless questions. Did he do this on purpose? Did he really try to hurt me? Trick me? It feels like it. It feels like the worst trick in the world. And now that I’ve found out he’s talking to Lisa Swanson, just like his father is, I feel utterly betrayed.
Completely destroyed.
Thank goodness I followed him back to his place. He’d suggested leaving my car and driving back here with him yesterday, but I’d wanted my car as an option in case I needed to escape.
And I’ve never needed to escape more than I do right at this very moment.
“I don’t want to see you ever again,” I say to the door, unable to look at him. I don’t think I could bear it. “I don’t know why you did this, why you wanted to trick me, but you did. You got one over on me. Congratulations.”
I open the door and burst outside, running down the sidewalk toward my car. I can feel him behind me but he doesn’t chase after me and despite everything within me yelling that I shouldn’t look back, I shouldn’t turn around . . .