“I can relate to that.”
I look at him, surprised. He pulls away and lies down next to me, hands behind his head, looking up at the top of the canopy.
“My father thought computers were for sissies and pussies,” he says. “His biggest dream in life was for me to join him working at the police department.” He glances at me and grins. “My father is a cop, by the way.”
“I had no clue.”
“I don’t talk about it. My dad was a grade-A asshole and still is. We don’t really talk much. My mother is okay, but she didn’t really do much to stop my father from being a dick. He was constantly talking down to me, constantly telling me that I was a pussy and a piece of shit for sitting in front of my computer all the time.” He sighs, trailing off.
“That’s hard. When your parents don’t believe in you.”
“There was other stuff, too,” he says softly. “He tried to toughen me up.”
“How?” I ask, lying next to him. I put my hand on his chest.
“Beat the shit out of me,” he says. “He’d be hitting me, saying it’s for my own good, although I’m pretty sure he just liked doing it. But all that abuse just made me more driven to get the fuck out of there.”
“I can understand that,” I say.
“I got lucky. My company worked and shit took off for me. But if I stayed in that house much longer, my father would have killed me, or I would have killed him. There was no happy ending for me there.”
“But you got out.”
He nods and looks at me. “You did too.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He takes my hand and squeezes. “Hey. We both got out.”
“You’re right.” I curl up next to him, my head on his chest. “We did.”
I close my eyes as we lapse into silence. I don’t want to push him for more of his story, but I can imagine it. I lived some of it, I bet. It’s amazing that he ended up here and I ended up here too, but we took such different paths. Similar beginnings, but such different choices and events.
I can feel sleep tugging me down, and I want to resist it since he’s still here, but I can’t. All I hear is his breath and his heartbeat thumping slowly in my ear. It’s comforting, and when I finally go back under, I don’t dream anymore.
It’s just peaceful and calm. There’s nothing else.
19
Ethan
I glance at my agenda and sigh. The day is nearly over and yet I feel like I haven’t gotten a damn thing done. I’ve been feeling like this ever since Aria came into my life, but I know it’s not her fault. I’m just distracted by her.
Last night, I fell asleep in her bed. I told myself I wasn’t going to do that, but it happened. When I heard her screaming, I thought something horrible was happening.
Instead, I ended up opening up about my life. I never talk about my father, not with anyone. It’s not that I’m ashamed, or not exactly, but I just can’t stand people feeling any sort of pity for me. I survived it and got the fuck out of there, and that’s all I care about.
I still speak with my mother maybe once a month. I paid off their house, despite my father asking me not to, and bought them a new car. But that’s the extent of it. I’d give them more, take care of them for life only because they’re my parents, but my father made it clear that he doesn’t want my help.
Too proud or too stupid, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m moving on past all of this.
But I understand what Aria is going through. I used to dream of my father and the beatings he’d give me, all for my own good, all because he wanted me to toughen up. Of course, he was beating on a fourteen-year-old boy, but that didn’t matter to him. I was a sissy because I was good with computers and I was smart, and no son of his was going to be a sissy.
As soon as I turned sixteen and hit a growth spurt, the beatings stopped. Mostly because I got big enough to fight back and defend myself. He didn’t want to risk getting hurt. But the emotional abuse never stopped, not until the day I left that house and never looked back.
I’m not a weak man. I don’t let that shit define me or hold me back. I’m not some fucking victim. But I can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. I was just a kid and I didn’t know any better. I shouldn’t be ashamed of it.
And I’m not, not exactly at least. I mostly just don’t want people defining me by my past. Everything I’ve accomplished since then is so much more important to me, and I don’t want to become the abused kid that made it big.
Maybe it was dangerous to tell Aria that story. She could easily turn around and sell it to some tabloid. The Syndicate would probably have something to say about that, but that wouldn’t really stop her, not if she was really determined. She could make a nice chunk of money and disappear.
But I know she wouldn’t do that. What she told me last night was real, very real. She couldn’t fake the screaming or the emotion that I saw plainly on her face. She understands what I went through, just like I understand what she went through, and I know she’d never betray my trust. Just like I’d never betray hers.
The unspoken bond between us sends strange shivers down my spine. I never imagined feeling... whatever this is. It’s an attachment, that’s for sure, a very powerful bond that I don’t entirely understand yet. There’s so much between us already, and we have so much in common, that I can barely believe it.
My secretary buzzes my phone suddenly, snapping me out of my haze. I hit a button. “Yes?” I ask, getting myself back into the moment.
“Richard Taylor on line two,” she says.
I pause. “Thanks,” I say, before picking up the phone and hitting a button. “Richard,” I say. “Hello.”
“How are you doing, Ethan?”
I pause, wondering how to proceed. Do I pretend like the blackmail never happened?
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Have you thought about our last conversation?”
There it is. I was waiting for that. I wonder how direct he’ll be over the phone.
“I have,” I say.
“And?”
“And it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice in this situation, does it?”
“No,” he says, and I can hear the joy in his voice. “That’s the point though, of course.”
“Send over your next round of contracts.”
“I will. I’ll be reasonable, Ethan. I’ll go easy on you.”
“For both our sakes, Richard. Remember, you need this deal as much as I do.”
“That’s true,” he says, laughing. “That’s very true. Well, I’m glad you came to your senses. We’re both going to be rich and happy men soon.”
“I suspect you’ll be richer and happier,” I say.
“Of course. That’s the game, isn’t it?” He laughs and then hangs up the phone.
I stare at my receiver before hanging it back up. I feel fucking sick to my stomach all of a sudden, and although I have more work to do, I know I’m done for the day. It’s around five anyway, and there’s no shame in leaving at a normal time for once. I’ll go home, check on Aria, eat something, and then work from my home office for a few more hours.