23. Ethan

CHAPTER 23

ETHAN

“What is it now?” I bark as soon as she ends her call.

She jolts, obviously not realizing I followed her around the corner. I want to rip that cell phone out of her hands and smash it. She’s been on it all fucking day. She even replied to a text during Tammy’s vows, for fuck’s sake.

Her shoulders slump as she takes in my expression, and her eyes dart to the ground. It’s so obvious she’s steeling herself, and my heart sinks. Raising her chin, she sniffs and tells me, “I have to go do this thing. I’ve been trying to get out of it all day, but they won’t stop harassing me, so I need to just leave and get it done.”

“In the middle of a wedding?” I flick my arms wide.

“The wedding’s over now.”

“What about the reception?”

She sighs, closing her eyes and squeezing the bridge of her nose. “I have to go, Ethan. It’s in the contract, and I’ll get fired if I don’t show. Shit, I could get sued if I don’t go!” Her arm slaps against her leg, the shimmery fabric of her dress wrinkling.

She straightens it, pulling it back down her hips with a huff.

I want to tell her she can’t do this. I want to drop to my knees and fucking beg her to stay, but we can’t keep having this same conversation, right? She said so herself.

With a sad frown, I stare at my girl, wondering where she’s gone, if my lil’ mouse is even still in there.

Crossing her arms, she swallows and pulls her shoulders back, like she’s preparing herself for some kind of verbal attack.

But all I can do is shake my head and murmur, “I can’t keep going like this.”

Her eyes dart to mine, her face the picture of devastation. I don’t know why those words popped out of me, but they’re true. I can’t. I can’t keep fighting with her over this fucking job. I can’t keep watching her walk away from me.

So, for once, I turn my back and walk away from her first.

Running to catch up with Asher’s car, I jump in the back seat.

“Where’s Mikayla?” Lani asks.

“She’s not coming. She has to work,” I mutter, clenching my jaw as she exchanges a worried frown with Asher.

Thankfully, they don’t say anything, and we drive to the reception in icy silence.

Fuck. I hate this so much.

The look on Mikayla’s face just before I walked away is killing me, but when I turn to see if she’s still standing by the hospital, she’s not. She’s gone. She will have jumped in her car and be heading back down to Denver by now.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

Have I just lost my wife?

I think I might throw up and grit my teeth, having to concentrate hard around each corner as Asher heads to the reception.

The glade we decorated yesterday is now shimmering with lights, and wedding guests are milling around. We arrive in time to hear the cheer going up as Baxter and Tammy walk hand in hand into the forest area.

Tammy’s gushing about how amazing everything looks, hugging Baxter and jumping in excitement.

“This is perfect!”

“Boo, you are a queen.” Asher wraps his arm around Lani’s waist and pulls her close. “You made this happen for them, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

She grins. “Thanks, baby.” Holding his face with her thumb and forefinger, she pulls him in for a kiss, and I step around them before I seriously do start hurling chunks.

Everyone’s asking how Caroline and the baby are. I listen to my friends give reports, then try to smile at people’s delighted laughter over the fact that Tammy and Baxter got married in the waiting room.

People don’t seem to mind that they missed it and are making the most of celebrating now.

But I can’t fucking celebrate.

Mick should be here.

She shouldn’t have chosen work over this.

She—

“Where’s Mikayla?” Rachel stands in front of me.

I glance up from the picnic table I’m perched on, letting out a derisive snort. “Where do you think?”

Her eyebrows dip, and she smooths her bridesmaid’s dress under her legs, taking a seat beside me. “What happened?”

“She got a call saying she had to be… I don’t even know where the fuck she is, but she’s gone there so she doesn’t lose her shitty job. Some contract bullshit, and this guy called Axel or something is insisting she be there or the sponsorship deal with fall through. I don’t know all the details.” I huff, working my jaw to the side and wondering why Rachel is suddenly glaring at me.

Fuck, she looks like she wants to slap me right now.

“What?”

“You don’t know all the details?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…” A breath whooshes out of me. Because I didn’t ask. Because I was too busy yelling at her for being a lousy, rude friend.

“Ethan, why the hell are you sitting here sulking?”

I frown, not wanting to look at her as I pick at an invisible speck on my pants.

“Why didn’t you offer to drive her?” Her voice gets a touch sharper, and I sit back, surprised by Rachel’s aggravation. She’s usually super chill and sweet, but I can sense her about to rip into me. “You should have gone with her. Axel’s an ass. She told me all about him. And I know she’s tough enough to handle him, but still… it’s stressful for her. And now she’s dealing with the stress of knowing you’re pissed off as well.”

Running my hand through my hair, I cringe, hating this lecture but not having it in me to walk away from it.

“You know, she has always supported your career. She’s never once complained about all those times you’re away. You have no idea how much she misses you, do you?”

I swallow, daring to glance at Rachel. She gives me a pained frown.

“She pined for you when you moved to Centennial, but she refused to let you see that because she didn’t want you torn between her and something you love.” She huffs. “And the number of games she made the effort to go to, even when she got slammed on social media for not being pretty enough for you.”

“She’s gorgeous,” I argue. “Fuck those trolls. And I told them that.”

Rachel closes her eyes, looking sad as she pats my arm. “Why aren’t you supporting her through this the way she’s always supported you?”

“I’ve been trying.” My voice sounds feeble and small. “She needs to quit this job. It’s bringing out the worst in her, and I’m desperate to make her see that, but she won’t let me. How do I make her understand? She hates this job.”

“Yeah.” Rachel nods with a sigh. “But you know how sometimes you have to figure stuff out on your own? Mikayla is stubborn, and she’s fiercely independent. She hates asking for help.”

I scoff, knowing it all too well.

“And she hates being bossed around.”

“Which is why this job is killing her,” I grit out.

“And it’s why her husband shouldn’t be doing the same thing.”

Guilt swamps me and I clench my jaw, fisting my fingers and wanting to fucking run from this conversation.

Rachel’s gentle hand on my arm keeps me still. “Mick will figure it out. Right now, she’s just afraid that she’s not good enough to find what she really wants. She’s worried that she’s not smart enough to handle law school. She’s afraid that if she leaves this job, she’ll never get another chance again. She doesn’t realize yet how truly brilliant she is and that there are so many pathways to get to where she wants to be.” Her lips tip up in a sad smile. “You need to be there for her. She can’t hear your logic when you’re complaining. She’s feeling torn, and it’s eating her up. I can tell. Don’t make things worse.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I rasp. “I don’t know how to help her.” My voice breaks, emotion taking me out on all sides until I feel like I’m about to cry.

“You could always start with ‘What do you need, Mick?’ or ‘How can I best help you through this?’ or ‘Wow, you’re so amazing the way you work so hard.’ That kinda thing.”

My insides buckle, regret pounding me like a battering ram.

Am I too fucking late?

“I don’t know where she’s gone,” I rasp.

“So, call her. Ask. Find out.”

Ripping the phone from my pocket, I dial her number, but she doesn’t answer me. I try again, but it goes directly to voicemail, which means she’s intentionally ignoring my calls. So, I text.

We need to talk. Please call me back, okay?

The message is instantly read, but she doesn’t reply. I wait a full ten minutes, but she gives me nothing.

Sitting back with a helpless sigh, I show the screen to Rachel. Her crumpled expression is killing me, and I look away from it, feeling like the lowest form of scum possible.

God, please tell me I haven’t just lost the best thing that ever happened to me.