Chapter Thirty-Two

Ethan

Ethan sighed as he put the taser in the nightstand drawer. There was also a small personal taser he was supposed to keep charged and carry in his car. He had agreed to all this. A bright orange screaming panic alarm device now lived on Ethan's keychain, not to mention the various cans of pepper spray Justin had put in the house and insisted he carry with him. To say his man had gone slightly overboard at whatever place he and his dad had found was an understatement.

It was love—fucked up—but love all the same. And if Ethan were honest, he should have looked into these kinds of personal protection devices himself long ago. If he'd had a single one of them… He wasn't going there but couldn't deny it might have been a game changer. So, he'd do what Justin and his father asked. He would heed their advice on this, though he had objected to the firearm suggestion. And he'd made them get the keychains for everyone. He felt good about those. They were ear-piercing, and he was more comfortable with carrying that and the thought of using it.

Ethan tied his running shoes, clipped the personal alarm onto his shorts, and headed for the beach. Justin had just left, heading back to the Bay for another week, and Ethan needed a good hard run. On the brighter side, Justin had returned from his errand with a business card for a dog trainer and had already emailed the guy about a dog for Ethan. Justin's plan was to get a dog that could run with him. A working dog trained in personal protection.

Ethan had a feeling he'd end up with a security guard before Justin was done. During the games, Ethan would agree. Those would be complete insanity and overwhelming for him. Ethan had to remind himself exactly who he'd married.

"Such a caveman."

But he thought about what precautions any other starting NFL QB would take for their spouse and family, and Ethan understood it. It wasn't like Justin wouldn't be streaming on every Monday Night Football outlet in only a few months. He would be front page news with a big-time secret— him . And likely, there'd be fanatical fans. Ethan had no doubts about that. The world had no idea who was about to hit them, but this—Ethan did know. Justin was unlike anyone else, bottom line.

Ethan wasn't unaware of the dangers of the world anymore. He would never be a victim again. Shaking off the overwhelming thoughts, Ethan set the house alarm, locked the back door, and headed for the beach. He loved the feeling of tennis shoe tread on wet white sand, the smell of the Gulf on a good day, and the faint taste of sea breeze on his lips. The waves were lazy today, and the kayakers were out in full force.

Old Florida , they called it.

Ethan nodded at the snowbirds with their oversized sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats as he took to the sidewalk from the beach, hit the boardwalk through town, and would make his way back to the less-populated beach where he could really pick up some speed. He loved this route, and it was usually on the leg by the old docks that he'd find shells when he stopped for a break before his return run back home.

Every time Justin came home, Ethan would find him at the fireplace mantel at some point, picking up the shells and looking at them, commenting on the collection Ethan had started. It made him feel good how interested someone could be in the dumb shit you delighted in. They were shells; the Shell Shoppe had them by the thousands. But they weren't the same, not when Ethan had found a "unicorn horn," as Justin had claimed, though it would have had to have been the tiniest unicorn since the shell was like an inch long.

Ethan smiled as he ran. Never in his life had he imagined Justin. Sometimes , he did feel imagined, as if Ethan had just dreamed him up. Ethan didn't know what he'd ever done to deserve someone like him, thinking about the mail he'd recently opened. Discovering that his spouse had not only taken out a ridiculous life insurance policy on himself for Ethan but also had a lawyer on retainer for any and all future parole hearings had cemented the faith Ethan had in Justin. He was in this.

The good, the bad, and the ugly. Justin had taken the phone when that damn automated alert call had come, announcing one of them was being transferred to another prison. He'd called victim services and ensured the orders of protection were still in place. He didn't care if they were in prison now . Eventually, they would get out. Ethan did well just to get through a day at a time, while Justin played a much longer game—their future.

Ethan stopped, breathing hard, and picked up the banded tulip shell. He checked to make sure it wasn't inhabited and secured it in his zippered shorts pocket. This was a great find, and he strolled along the beach, picking up a few cockle shells in one piece before turning and heading back home. He would have a good six miles in for the day, and from the way the backs of his calves and ankles were beginning to itch, he needed to get back and wash the sand off.

*

ETHAN COMPLETED THE registration packet and sealed it. He put it in the mailbox and raised the red flag. He wouldn't start full-time and in-person until next fall but wanted to go ahead and get accepted, with the option of enrolling in an online class or two while he took this year for himself. Still, he felt solid about his plan.

Ethan stopped in the driveway and glared at the neighbor's cat stretched out, flicking his tail in challenge.

"Jingles, go home."

Ethan shooed the cat, yelling, "Wait till you see the dog we're getting. He's going to eat you in one gulp."

A throat cleared.

"Oh, hi , Ms. Cleary," Ethan said, "just yelling at Jingles… again ."

She flipped him off, and Ethan bowed.

"Always a pleasure."