Ethan placed his bag on a kitchen chair. ‘Here, I brought you something from the big, bad city.’
‘Excellent. Who is she?’ As always, he tried to stay true to the persona he’d spent years cultivating. There was nothing to be gained by letting the world know he wasn’t as carefree as he tried to make out.
Ethan shook his head. ‘More along the lines of what: burrito from Zambrero’s. They have a plate-for-plate thing going for kids in need.’
‘I’ve always wondered how that works. I mean, what if the kids don’t want a burrito?’ he said, unwrapping the package Ethan handed him. ‘What if they want extra guac? Less jalapenos?’
‘Don’t reckon that’s quite how it works.’
Hamish frowned. Normally Ethan would play along with the ridiculous. ‘You seem a bit down, mate. Everything okay?’
‘Sure,’ Ethan replied as swiftly as any and every bloke would. Then he gave a lopsided smile. ‘Great poster boy for the R U OK? campaign, right?’ He took a breath, laying his hands flat on the table. ‘Nah, everything’s a bit shit at the moment, to be honest. Work’s not getting any better. No matter what I do, the faculty head is determined to pigeonhole me.’
‘As?’
Ethan’s gaze flicked to his. ‘Thought that’d be obvious. A druggie, of course. Brought that one on myself, but apparently there’s no outliving it.’
‘Can you get teaching work somewhere else?’
‘Yeah. I can apply for another position next year. Though I doubt I can run from myself.’ He tried for a grin but then scowled down at his hands, clenched into fists on the table. ‘But it’s not only that. It’s Charlee. She won’t accept that we’re never going to happen.’
Hamish lifted one shoulder. Blowing off a chick was always a bit messy, but not anything to get down about. ‘You’ve told her that?’
Ethan blew out a sharp breath. ‘It’s not that cut and dried. With her history, it’s not fair to pull away the support I’ve given her previously. I can’t risk setting her off, giving her a reason to fall back into addiction. Now she’s going on about saving farm animals from abuse and exploitation, and she’s trying to get me involved.’
‘Not sure that take will make her too popular around here,’ Hamish said. ‘Fine line between production and exploitation. You reckon maybe she’s just grasping at straws to prolong the whole thing between you?’
Ethan snorted. ‘Thewhole thingthat never was anything but a saviour fantasy entirely in her mind.’
‘I’m not so sure about that, mate. From what Sean says, you did save her.’
Ethan tugged on the black plugs in his earlobes. ‘I didn’t save her—no one can do that. I was just in the right place at the right time to lend her some tools. But the thing is, I still need to be here for her, so I can’t do anything to rock the boat. Eventually she’ll meet someone—’
It was Hamish’s turn to snort disbelievingly. ‘Not out here, she won’t. Slim pickings.’
Ethan unwrapped his burrito, pulling it apart in a way that should be illegal, then picking out the jalapenos.
‘If you didn’t want them, why didn’t you say when you ordered?’ Hamish asked.
Ethan’s fingers paused. ‘Because the guy had already loaded up the burrito and I didn’t want to make waves.’
‘Reckon that’s your problem right there,’ Hamish said. ‘You’re too nice, mate. Sometimes you have to tell it how it is.’
Ethan pushed aside the food, shaking his head. ‘Not with Charlee. She’s too new out of the addiction, too fragile. It only takes one little speed hump to shove you right back there. You think that this time it’ll be different, that this time you’re in control, that this time you’re using the drug, rather than it using you. But you’re wrong. Every bloody time. And Charlee hasn’t been there to learn that. Not yet.’ He clamped his lips in a firm line, seeming to wrestle with himself. ‘It’s my job to make sure she gets to be one of the few who never have to learn it for themselves. I told her she could do this, I made her believe I had all the answers, that I could help fix her. But the truth that I don’t dare tell her, because it makes everything so bloody pointless, is that every damn time, the lesson gets harder and the class becomes more impossible to leave.’
Hamish stared at his friend, his appetite vanished. Was Ethan trying to caution that he was sliding back into addiction? Or was depression clawing at him?
Dammit,thiswas why men didn’t talk about feelings and emotions: they were messy, formless, pointless. How the hell was he supposed to fix this for his friend? Because if it wasn’t something he could take a wrench to, tighten a bolt, repair, he didn’t want to know about it.
11
Jemma
‘Look, it’s not like I actually hit her.’
In many regards, Mark Wilkins was the perfect client. He knew how to present himself: nice suit, clean shaven, elegant haircut. Just a hint of aftershave, no ostentatious jewellery, only cufflinks and a fine gold chain that was visible when he loosened the knot of his handmade silk tie and unbuttoned the neck of his crisp Armani business shirt. The plain gold wedding band was perhaps a little too new and shiny, but it wordlessly conveyed his absolute commitment to his marriage of eleven years—the one his wife was intent on dissolving amid claims of domestic violence.
Yes, Wilkins was eminently believable.
