Torn (Lords of the City #1) (41 page)

She folded a honey dipped sopaipilla into her mouth and followed it with a long sip of coffee.

“Have you told your uncle about any of this?” she asked, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.

I shook my head. “He and Claudia left for Florida the morning after we all had dinner. They’re celebrating Walt’s retirement and I didn’t want to interrupt their vacation. But I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say.”

“Does anyone else know about Ethan?”

“Just Linda. I don’t want anyone else to know, Melissa. I can’t exactly explain what’s going on between us when I don’t understand it myself.”

“I understand, and my lips are sealed. I know you’re putting a lot of trust in me, given my job. I appreciate that, Em.”

My eyes widened. I’d never even considered that she’d turn on me. “I know you’d never sell me out for a story. And I promise if there ever is anything to tell, you have the exclusive.”

Melissa beamed back at me and attacked another sopaipilla. Despite my confusion and my anger at Ethan’s demanding behavior, I had a feeling Melissa would have her story sooner rather than later.

***

I spent the next three weeks conquering my urge to call Ethan. But just because I wasn’t speaking to him didn’t mean he wasn’t on my mind. The Stallions won their first three games; I watched anxiously from home, praying Ethan wouldn’t be hurt. He dominated the other teams’ defenses and quickly became the most talked about player in professional football. As he’d promised, sports reporters stopped questioning whether or not he deserved his high priced salary.

Ethan popped into my mind at the most surprising, inconvenient times and everyone at school knew I had something on my mind. Two weeks into mine and Ethan’s standoff, Ben and Becky went public with their relationship and I started getting sympathetic smiles and lots of space. I was more than happy to let them believe Ben was why I’d been so distracted.

My door opened and my students filed into the room with Linda at their heels. I put a wide smile on my face and rose to my feet.

“Was everyone good for Miss Howard?” I sang, meeting Linda’s eyes. We alternated lunch and recess duty and she’d just finished her turn.

“Everyone was great,” she assured me. “Our kindergarteners could teach the third-grade class a thing or two. You’d have thought someone had turned a group of wild monkeys loose in the cafeteria.”

“They were crazy, Miss Kinkaid,” Sophie Lewis told me, obviously in awe of the older kids’ antics.

“Birthday?” I asked Linda with a knowing frown.

She nodded. “Beatrice said a parent showed up with icing drenched cupcakes, topped with chunks of fudge. If you’re not busy after school, she would probably appreciate a trip to the juice bar.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed. ‘Juice bar’ was our code word for happy hour at the nearby pub.

A knock echoed through my room, followed by a collective gasp from all of the kids. I looked past Linda and saw Ethan standing in my doorway.

The kids’ initial gasps of shock were followed by squeals of delight and disbelief. Half of them swarmed him, tugging at his Stallions jersey and asking for autographs. The other half moved to the far wall and blushed with shyness.

Beatrice really lucked out with those sugar bombs. I’d take twenty kids on a sugar high over this any day.

“Okay class, let’s all sit down in our seats.”

I smiled at the kids as they settled behind their desks, then met Ethan’s eyes with my best ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ glare. He looked adorably bashful and glanced down to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think this through. I was hoping to talk to you for a minute.”

Linda pushed between us, ignoring Ethan completely. “I have to get back to my room. See you at Arnie’s?”

“I’ll be there,” I assured her.

I turned back to the class with a broad, forced smile. “Boys and girls, I know you’re all excited to meet Mr. McAlister. Unfortunately, he can’t stay to talk today.”

“Noooo!” several voices moaned in unison.

“It’s okay, kids,” Ethan assured them. “I’m here to talk to your teacher about an extra special surprise I want to plan for your school. Would it be alright if I talk to her in the hall for a few minutes?”

They answered him with silent, enthralled faces and a few celebrity-struck head nods.

“I’ll be right back kids,” I promised. “While I’m talking to Mr. McAlister, you can split into your reading groups. I want each group to choose a different chapter book. When I come back, we’ll vote as a class on what we’ll read next during story time.”

I led Ethan into the hallway and turned on him, my hands on my hips.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here? And how did you get by the front desk anyway?” I held up a hand when he started to speak. “You can’t just show up unannounced and disrupt my class. And I sure as hell hope you plan to follow through on that surprise you just promised them. They’re not going to forget about that,” I hissed, doing my best to keep my voice low.

“I know. I’m sorry. I needed to see you, Emily. I know we only spent one night together, but I can’t get you out of my head. I miss you like I’d miss a piece of my own body.”

Melt. That was so sweet.

“So you thought you’d just show up here and claim me?” I countered, keeping my mad on. “Or have you finally come to apologize?”

“I came to tell you that enough is enough. I know you have your reasons for wanting to take things slow… good, practical reasons. But I can’t take it anymore. I’ve never felt like this before. Until I met you, I thought emotions like this only existed in books. We have a chance to be genuinely, blissfully happy together. I’m certain of it. And I know you feel it too. So like I said, I came here to tell you that enough is enough. Can we please just give in to what we already know is right?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You have a lot of nerve. We had this conversation three weeks ago and I told you how I felt. Now you show up here and make the same demands? If you’d have compromised even an inch, this would have worked out much better for you. I need to get back to the kids. I’ll tell Principal Matthews he can expect to hear from you about that surprise.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he called after me. His voice echoed through the empty hallway and three of my colleagues stuck their heads out to see what was going on.

“Get out of here, Ethan,” I hissed.

“Sorry to disturb you all,” he continued, raising his voice. “As you may know, I’m Ethan McAlister. What you don’t know is that I’m in love with Emily Kinkaid.”

Oh my God. Please, just let me disappear into the floor.

I felt my face flush hot with rage while several of the other teachers let out amused laughs and calls of congratulations. I walked straight up to Ethan and poked his chest with two fingers.

“If we were meant to be the way you say we are, you wouldn’t have to force it. Now I believe I asked you to leave.”

He nodded at me, the muscles in his jaw pulsing. He stared at me another moment, then turned and slunk away.

***

“Bartender, my friend and I need another line of shots,” Melissa called out.

“Okay, but you’re cut off after this,” he warned. The redheaded bartender lined up six shot glasses on his rubber mat and filled them to the brim with tequila.

It was Sunday afternoon, and Melissa and I were at Butch’s Sports Bar watching the Stallions play. A week and a half had passed since I’d thrown Ethan out of the school, and my anger and frustration had grown with each day. Ethan had been so close to perfect. If he’d just been willing to compromise, we could have been well on our way to the happy, blissful life he’d described.

The bartender slid the drinks in front of us and the game came back from commercial.

“Just in time, Billy,” Melissa told him.

We were playing a new drinking game to celebrate my decision to hold my ground with Ethan. Every time someone on television called Ethan “Portland’s Most Eligible Bachelor,” we took a shot. We also drank when anyone mentioned any of the women he’d been casually tied to during his career, and every time the reporter from Melissa’s station appeared on the screen. Phillip appeared in the bottom right corner of the television screen and we salted our wrists. We were already on our second line of shots, and the tequila went down without a burn.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to be on the field tonight,” I told her, tossing aside my lemon rind.

She shrugged and let out a frustrated sigh. “It sucks, but what can I do? The moment the chicken pox threat was gone, I was booted back to the features section. My boss promised to start throwing me some of the lower profile sports assignments. I guess we’ll just wait and see if that happens.”

I gave her a sympathetic nod and turned my attention back to the game.

“Portland’s at first down on the thirty-five-yard line. Here’s the snap…”

“And the Denver defense has blitzed McAlister—”

I watched in horror as a trio of defensive linemen took Ethan to the ground. They piled on top of him and an official tossed up a flag. Ethan’s teammates dug through the pile of bodies, tossing the other players off of him. Melissa slipped her hand into mine as paramedics rushed the field.

“Officials have called unnecessary roughness. McAlister doesn’t seem to be responding.”

“Where the fuck were his blockers?” someone in the crowd called out.

The bar sprung alive with debate, but my only focus was the television. I felt as if my very existence was tied to Ethan’s. I
needed
him to be okay, even though I still didn’t understand why. The paramedics loaded his limp body onto a stretcher and an ambulance pulled straight onto the field.

“We have to go,” I announced.

“Billy, I need to tab out.”

The bartender swiped Melissa’s debit card and she gave our untouched shots to the couple beside us. She scribbled her name on the receipt while I headed for the door.

“Neither of us are in any shape to drive,” she pointed out as we stumbled onto the sidewalk.

“Then we’ll take a cab. Where would they take him, Melissa?”

“I don’t know for sure. That’s not the kind of information the team shares with anyone. But if I have to guess, I’d say Oregon Medicine and Science.”

“Are you sure? Providence Medical is closer,” I pointed out.

“Yes. But the teaching hospital has better doctors and equipment.”

“Then that’s where we’re going.”

I stepped to the curb and hailed an oncoming cab. We slid into the backseat and I gave the driver our destination. He had the game playing on the radio. During the thirty-minute drive to the hospital, the sportscaster made two separate announcements that there was still no news on Ethan McAlister’s condition.

“He’ll be okay, right?” I asked Melissa under my breath.

“I don’t know,” she warned. “He hit the ground pretty hard. And he had a lot of weight on top of him. I don’t want to feed you false hope, Emily. This could be bad.”

I nodded and gripped her hand tighter. When we finally pulled up to the emergency room entrance, I threw two twenties at the driver and told him to keep the change. I rushed through the open glass doors and into the sterile waiting area.

“Can I help you?” asked the nurse behind the desk.

“We’re here to see Ethan McAlister,” Melissa explained.

If the nurse recognized his name, she did a great job of covering it.

“Room number?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I’m not even sure this is where they brought him.”

“I understand you’re worried, ma’am,” she replied with genuine sympathy. “But I’m not allowed to give out patient information. I can direct you to a specific room, but nothing more.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Melissa pulled me away. “We understand,” she called over her shoulder.

I shook off her arm as we neared the end of the hallway. “What are you doing? I have to find Ethan. I have to know he’s okay. You don’t understand, Meliss—”

“I get it,” she assured me. “And we’re going to find him. Just follow my lead.”

After finding the main lobby, Melissa stopped in front of a large board that listed every doctor’s office number.

“All of the ortho offices are in wing four B, and the neuro docs are one floor up. I think it’s a safe bet that the patient rooms are close by,” she explained.

“Thank God you’re good at your job. Let’s start on five. Surely they’d prioritize his brain over his bones.”

“One would hope so,” she agreed, rushing after me to the elevator. We rode the car up to the fifth floor and started wandering the hallways, examining the handwritten nameplates on each patient room door.

“You can’t be here,” announced a harsh male voice.

Startled, I turned toward the sound. A strict looking man in a lab coat stared back at me with a frown. The young, burly man behind him met my eyes with a hint of recognition. Melissa sidled up beside me and gave the doctor her most charming smile.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, her voice dripping with innocence.

“This is a closed patient floor. You’re not allowed here.”

The younger man cleared his throat, his eyes still on me. “You’re Emily, right?”

“Yes,” I replied with a sigh of relief.

“This is Ethan’s girlfriend, Doc. He’ll want to see her when he wakes up.”

The doctor pinched his lips with disapproval, but he didn’t make us leave. “Ethan was just taken to radiology. If you’d like to go to the waiting room down the hall, I’ll come get you when he’s regained consciousness.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor gave us a curt nod and continued down the hallway.

“And thank you,” I told the other man.

He nodded and extended his hand. “Brock Simpson, I’m one of Ethan’s teammates.”

“You were injured last week,” I remembered out loud. “How’s the ankle?”

“Not so hot.” He lifted his pants leg, revealing a thick metal and neoprene brace. “Since I wasn’t dressed out for the game, coach let me ride in the ambulance with Ethan.”

“I’m glad he wasn’t alone.”

Brock nodded and the three of us followed signs to the fifth-floor waiting area. Melissa bought three bottles of water from the vending machine and we sat in nervous silence until the doctor reappeared nearly an hour later.