29. Ethan

29

ETHAN

A week later

Pacing around my apartment, I rub at the hollow feeling that persists behind my ribcage. I've started and stopped typing out a million messages to Ella. But they all seem wrong.

Running my hands through my hair, I squeeze fistfuls to feel the tug and pain, to distract my heart long enough to think straight. I fall into my leather couch. It's soft and buttery and cool against my overheated skin.

Ella's leaving didn't land right with any of us. All of our instincts and the concerns we shared about what's happening in Ella's life swirl back through my brain. Something more is going on, and she won't tell us. She would only repeat that it wasn't working, but she wouldn't say that she wasn't happy.

They mean such distinctly different things. Especially to me.

When things don't work straight off, they can be fixed. They should be fixed. We should at least try.

Happiness can't be fixed. And I know she's been happy. We've all been happy.

So, why is she running away?

I'm determined to find the real reason, to fix whatever's not working for her. I can't just let her go.

Another ache bends me over, and I need to take action now or I will go absolutely insane. I don't want to do something stupid because of it, but I'm pretty sure that boat has already sailed. I dial Will and stand to begin pacing again.

He answers on the third ring. "Hey." Fuck, his voice sounds even more melancholy and defeated than usual. It's another stab to my heart.

"Hey. Can you track someone by their phone number? I mean, I know it's possible, but how quickly could you do it?"

There's a pause on the other end. "Not long, but why?"

"You know why. And you know who." It can't be hard to figure out. We've all just had our hearts torn out, and this is my only solution. She can ignore my texts. Avoid my calls. But she can't hide from me in person.

Will sighs on the other end of the line and finally grumbles, "Hold on. I don't want to know what you're doing in case it backfires."

"And if it doesn't?" I ask.

"I can still claim ignorance. Now, hold on."

I can hear him stand and shift, a soft door closing, and the tapping of keys and clicking of a mouse. Walking to my window, I peer out into the rainy sky and the wet pavement for my street. The gray clouds and muted sun reflect my mood.

It's the perfect kind of day to cuddle up with something hot and a woman in my arms—Ella in my arms. How did I go from getting all of the pretty women into bed to having the perfect one to simply wishing I could hold her again because she's left me?

Deflating again, I really cannot abide by this cycle. And that's when Will clears his voice. "I have an address. Do you—do you need back up?"

"I thought you wanted to claim ignorance."

"I do, but I also want to help."

"Well, this isn't quite the big, romantic gesture moment, but you could keep track of her if this doesn't work. If we can just figure out what she's hiding from us, we can convince her that it's not as bad as she thinks it is." Says the man who would abandon a woman after a few dates because I got bored.

Ella surely isn't boring.

"Okay. I can do that. I'm headed over to the manor to help watch Lily. You should stop by after," Will offers. I've noticed how much more sensitive he is since we all became involved with Ella together. All of those Gothic romances amplify his general moodiness, but really, he's just quiet and contemplative. And this is killing him as much as me.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

I write down the address before hanging up and getting in my truck. Ella is across town, and the closer I drive, the more worried I become. Harborview doesn't have slums or decrepit neighborhoods, but we do have unsavory ones, and she's right on the border of a few.

The house is a small one-story ranch with weather-stained siding and faded shutters. The cement porch is cracked and leaning, and the basketball hoop cemented into the side lawn is weather-bleached and missing its net.

I park on the street, not wanting to exert the dominance that fitting my oversized truck in that little driveway would do. I'm out of the driver's seat and around the back gate when Ella appears on the tilting cement slab with her arms crossed. The rich brown of her skirt is embroidered with gold, although I can't see the design from here. Her mellow green shirt helps the gold statement piece around her neck pop, and I know that up close, it will accentuate the flecks of colors in her almond eyes.

I stop and lean against the bed of my truck and mimic her behavior by crossing my arms and frowning back at her.

"What are you doing here, Ethan? How did you find me?" After another minute of silence, she stalks down the driveway toward me.

By the time she reaches me, my stance has fallen, and all I want to do is pull her close and hold onto her. But she stops too far away and glares at me. Although I can see the way her mouth tips with sadness and worry rather than a deep well of anger.

"Why are you doing this, Ella?"

She stiffens, shoulders rolling back. "I told you why?—"

"You really didn't," I cut in.

"I did. There are safety issues. That is all you need to know, Ethan. And coming here to question me really isn't going to change my mind." Uncharacteristically, Ella avoids my gaze as she says this, glaring daggers at my passenger window.

"I know you're not telling us something. We all know." My voice comes out husky and broken, and I clear my throat. What comes out next sounds a lot angrier than I intend. "And if you really want this to be the end, we deserve your honesty."

The wild, angry, but broken look in her eyes shatters my chest. It was the wrong thing to say. I should just put my foot in my mouth, but I can't seem to stop. Stupid, impulsive decisions. I should have talked to the guys first about this.

Too late.

"I don't owe you anything." Her left eye twitches. Shit, I've hit a nerve.

I put my hands up. "I'm not saying you owe us anything. Owe me anything. I just thought you respected us more than this. That we meant more than some offhand excuse."

Her glare sharpens, and I can feel her digging for something more.

"Look," she finally says, her eyes still not meeting mine, "Fine. Here is the truth. I lied about the threats. The truth is I shouldn't have rushed into it with you guys. I wasn't ready then, and I'm not ready now. I'm not relationship material."

I shake my head in disbelief. The Ella I've seen over the last couple weeks is not the one who is speaking these words right now. She is lying now . I can see it in the guilt etched across her face, the way her shoulders droop, the way she continues to avert my gaze.

My mind goes back to what Theo found out about her a while back. There is more here, and it ties to those pictures. Someone is threatening her, of that I am sure— but what reason would they have? Unless… unless she has done something to them. Something damaging, something that has taken away their lives.

Does Ella have enemies?

I stare at her face for an impossibly long time. She is beautiful on any occasion, but more so when she is this remote.

Damn this all.

I shake my head frustratedly. "That's not the whole story. I can see it written all over your face. It's an excuse to let you hide. To let you throw away something that can be so good— is so good. Because you're scared."

"I'm not scared." Dropping her hands, they plunk onto her hips.

"Yes. You are." I take a step forward, and she doesn't back down, letting the sweet scent of her skin, her shampoo and conditioner, and how it mixes to create her own unique smell hit me with the kind of feelings I've always been to afraid to feel.

And she doesn't want to take the chance on me? It tears my insides to pieces.

"You're scared. And I just wish you'd let me help you instead of pushing me away." I reach out to touch her, but she pulls back.

"You're wrong. You can't help me. Not right now. I can't do this." Ella turns back toward the house.

"I feel sad for you, Ella. Terribly, terribly sad for you."

"Even so. I can't risk being in a relationship right now. You're wasting your time. You should just go." And Ella finally leaves me, marching back into the house and closing the door loudly.

I sink back against the tailgate and rub my face in my hands. Well, that could have gone better. Stupid fucking impulses. Yanking myself back up, I drive to the manor to meet the guys, thinking all the while of what Ella said and what she didn't say. What it all alluded to.

There's something going on. I park the car near a secluded spot on Ocean Drive and make a call to a friend. I ask him to fetch me some information— and this guy is good at what he does. If he can't get to the bottom of all this, no one can. I quickly send him Ella's profile and stats, plus what Theo has told us about her. I also tell him about her odd taste for vanishing at nights and not returning till the bleak hours of the morning.

Back at the manor, I tell the boys what I've learned.

Two days later, , I have a few of the puzzle pieces put together.