Still in shock and unable to speak, I only nodded.
A few moments later, Ethan returned with a wet towel. Starting at the nape of my neck, he patted the towel over my back, my bottom and down the backs of my thighs. Once finished, Ethan ran his hands over my back. “Tell me if you feel anything still in there.”
His warm, callused hands smothered the harsh cold of the room as I laid naked face down on the bed. I shook my head as he reluctantly ran his hands over my lower back and hips. “Here?”
“No.”
“Go on and check the rest of yourself.”
I reached behind me and swiped my bottom and the back of my thigh. Aside from the soreness and the multitude of cuts my fingers ran across, I didn’t feel any more glass. I pulled myself up and sat at the edge of the bed before Ethan. “Thank you.”
He dropped his head and took in a deep breath. We were both exhausted.
“I should’ve rang a bus had you seen by a doctor. Bloody hell, Jett, I should’ve rang the police, but it’s too late now.” Ethan lifted his head and met my gaze. “You can’t tell anyone I did that for you. I’ll lose my job.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“But I’m going to find out who did this.”
“Thank you.”
Ethan’s eyes roamed over my breasts before they snapped back up. “Sorry,” he mumbled and turned away. He jumped to his feet and dropped the tweezers in the tray. “Go take a shower right through there and I’ll get you some clean clothes.”
Warm blood trickled down my legs as I shuffled to the shower. I turned the knob and waited for it to heat up, thinking back to who the hell was screwing with me. Maddie had been here all summer long, quiet, and kept to herself, never bothering to even talk to me. There were several new students here, but the only person this prankster was targeting was me, and the only two people who I’d grown semi-close to over the last few weeks were Tyler and Jude. It had to be Jude. Tyler wasn’t capable of something like this.
I stepped under the searing water as the temperature burned my cuts, and I bit the inside of my cheek from crying out. Ethan knocked before entering, and a brush of cold air cut through the steam. “I’m leaving clothes over the counter for you with a towel.”
“Thanks,” I think I said.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I lifted my head under the water to hide my tears—weakness. The last thing I wanted to do was cry again. Ethan saw me as a victim, and I hated being the victim. I hated how much everything affected me and made me feel so fucking weak. Now more than ever, I wished I couldn’t feel anything again.
“Mia?”
“I’m fine,” I rushed out. I didn’t mean for it to come out harsh, but it was hard to speak at all without stumbling over my words.
“I know you by now. You’re lying.” The door closed. “This would rattle anyone. You need to quit acting like a badass and let me take care of you.”
I laughed as I finished rinsing off the body wash. “A badass? You think I’m a badass? Because I swear you treat me like a victim, and I’m tired of feeling like a fucking baby.”
“Right now, you are a victim!”—The shower curtain flew open with an angry Ethan on the other side— “I’m going to find out who this bastard is and take care of it. But you have to let me. You have to let me in and find out who’s doing this.”
I turned off the water as he grabbed the towel and handed it to me. “No offense, Ethan, but you make me feel like I’m something to pity, like a helpless girl who can’t take care of herself. I need Ollie … ” I let out a breath and wrapped the towel around me. “I miss him, Ethan. I wish it were him here. I wish he were the one to remind me it was going to be okay.” If Ollie were here, he’d say, ‘Are you mad, love? Good. Use it. Fight through it. We’re in this together,’ or something beautiful along those lines. And it was true, Ollie and I used to be a team, whereas Ethan takes care of my shit without me. “Where you remind me I’m weak, Ollie reminded me I wasn’t alone.”
Ethan’s lips pressed together as he clenched his fist at his side. “Look around you. Do you see Ollie anywhere? Because I don’t, and if you keep this up, you will be alone. Now, sit your arse down,” he ordered, pointing to the chair. “I have to bandage up the bigger wounds. Unless of course, Ollie’s going to magically appear and do that for you?”
I rolled my eyes and straddled the chair. “Dick,” I muttered under my breath.
“Wanker,” Ethan replied in amusement.
My head snapped back to see him.
Ethan didn’t smile, though his eyes did. He pulled up a chair and sat behind me, balancing a first aid tin over his thigh. Carefully, he removed the towel and exposed my back. “Whoever did this got ahold of a case of lightbulbs, and planted broken pieces into your mattress. Has anyone been in your room?”
I shook my head. “No. Not that I recall. I don’t know. We were both busy when my dad showed up.” It had been a long day. Ethan applied cream before wrapping my back in bandages. “You think any of these will scar?”
“Probably,” he exhaled in concentration. “But it’s up to you on how deep you let the scars in.”
Chapter Nine
“There may be a storm inside my head,
but never get between me and my heart.
That is a battle you will lose every time.”
—Oliver Masters
ollie.
“GET OUTTA HERE, mate. We’re not Romeo and Juliet,” I laughed and chucked a pillow at Zeke from the bed as he sat on the floor of his dorm. To occupy my time and stay out of trouble, I spent the remainder of my days in Zeke’s room. I figured Zeke could share the goods.
The only dorm in all of Dolor to have a mini-fridge stocked with Schweppes and a telly.
He signed, “Pam and Jim,” and I threw my head back.
“It’s more intense than Pam and Jim,” I returned my attention to his telly as we watched re-runs of The Office. “This show is poisoning your brain. You need to read a book.”
Zeke shook his head rapidly and pointed over at the telly, signing more with his hands.
“No, Zeke. Not Pam and Jim. Not Ross and Rachel. Not Romeo and Juliet.”
Zeke jerked his head back and rolled his eyes.
“We’re Ollie and Mia. Not some bloody love story or fairy tale. Those all have endings,” I reiterated before finishing off the bottle. “Real love never dies.” I hopped off his bed and retrieved another bottle from the fridge, my mind wandering to weeks ago when I cried after our lovemaking in the library.
Couldn’t.
Believe.
It.
There I was, trying to give my girl something she couldn’t live without—a reason to take back her words on being without me for a whole year, only to lose control with a heap of emotions. I blamed it on seven months without her. Yeah, let’s blame it on that.
Tears reminded us we could feel.
Pain reminded us we were alive.
And I’d rather feel too much than feeling nothing at all.
But right now, all I could feel at the moment was my hard dick against my joggers as I imagined myself inside her. The moment Mia had told me she loved me before reaching the inescapable brink, it had been enough to push me over the edge. It’s what our love did. But our climax was never the intended purpose—it was the result of what we shared.