Ugh. I sort of hate myself for even thinking that.
“Don’t go to that coffee shop to meet him, either.” Brenna reaches out and settles her hand over mine, making me flinch. Funny, how I pull away when someone casually touches me, even someone like my sister. That little whisper of panic washes over my skin, the one that makes me want to recoil and hide. Except with Ethan. With Ethan it’s been the exact opposite.
You’d think I wouldn’t have a problem with it after all this time, but every once in a while, an unexpected touch can almost make my skin crawl.
“I find it weird that after all the crazy stuff that came out over the last few days, he’s suddenly texting and asking if you’re okay. That he actually wants to meet with you,” Brenna continues.
“I don’t think it’s all that strange. I briefly told him what happened to me, and he has my full name. All it takes is a quick search and he can figure everything else out.” I shrug, trying to act like it’s no big deal, but inside I’m dying of curiosity. And fear. Lots and lots of nervous fear. Did Ethan Google me? And if so, how accepting will he be of my past? The details I gave him were completely glossed over. The truth of my abduction and rape is almost too much for anyone to deal with.
“Right, so when he Googled you, he probably saw the news about the unauthorized movie, then the upcoming television interview with that dickwad who kidnapped you.” Brenna shakes her head. “Maybe he thinks he’ll become famous because he hangs out with you or something stupid like that.”
I almost want to laugh, but I hold it in when I see how serious my sister is being. She’s defending me. Worried about me. How can I fault her for that? “I doubt it has anything to do with that. Not like I have much money or anything.”
“You own your own house,” Brenna points out. “Not many women in their early twenties can say that.”
The house was purchased with money I inherited when our father died, so I’ve lived there only six months. Brenna is holding on to her share until she finds the perfect house for her and Mike to move into once they get married.
“He’s not after any sort of fame or fortune, Brenna. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I, Katherine? Do you really know much about this guy? You haven’t been seeing him for very long.” I know she’s being protective, but I’m tired of it. Tired of everyone trying to lock me in a cage and never let me live.
“I’m a big girl, Bren. If I want to see this guy, meet with him, then I will. Not even you can stop me. I have to live my life, not walk around in constant fear all the time,” I say, letting all my anger and frustration show.
Brenna gapes at me, like she can’t believe I just let loose like that. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. I don’t—I don’t trust this guy.”
I roll my eyes. “You won’t trust any guy that comes into my life.”
“That’s not true,” she starts, but I send her a look and she shuts up. I wish we already had our dinner in front of us. Or even better, that we had finished dinner so I could leave. Going out with my sister tonight was a huge mistake.
We say nothing for a while, and the quiet slowly drives me crazy. I can’t take it anymore.
“What am I supposed to do? Huh? Pretend it never happened? Never tell a guy I’m interested in my last name and hope like crazy he doesn’t find out the truth? I have to be honest. Open. That doesn’t mean I need to dump everything on him during the first date, but if a man is really interested in me, he deserves to know the truth. I can’t hide forever.”
“You’ve been in hiding for years, ever since it happened!” She’s yelling and I glare at her, hating how loud she is. A few nearby diners glance at us, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. She’s making a big deal out of nothing. “Then you meet a hot guy who finally gets your hormones going and you’re not acting normal. It’s like you don’t even care anymore about your safety, your privacy. None of it. You’re reckless and quite frankly, making some stupid moves. You won’t listen to me and you won’t listen to Mom either. We don’t know what’s going on with you and all we want to do is help.”
I don’t know what to say. Her words make me mad, but worse? They hurt. A lot. So much that I take my napkin from my lap and throw it on the table directly in front of me. “I didn’t realize your opinion of me is so low.” I stand and grab my purse from where it hangs on the back of my chair. “I’m leaving.”