You’re a part of me. You are my legacy. And I want us to have a relationship before it’s too late and I’m dead and gone. Or worse, what if something happens to you? I could never forgive myself.
I want you to think real hard and consider my suggestion. The girl has already talked to Lisa once. It won’t hurt to talk to her again. I think my request is pretty simple. The least you could do is honor it. Honor me.
After all, I am your father.
Dad
My phone rings around eight in the morning, startling me out of a deep sleep. I sit straight up in bed, frowning at the phone where it’s perched on the bedside table. People don’t call me. I text. I much prefer texting. That way you don’t have to work up the nerve to actually make a call.
The phone stops ringing before I can grab it and I lean over to see who it was.
Ethan.
I’m about to return his call when my phone starts ringing again. I answer it this time, before the first ring is done. He doesn’t even give me the chance to say hello.
“Katie, God, I uh . . . I’m sorry to call you so early.” He sounds frazzled. A little out of breath. His panic bleeds through and worry grips hold of me, making my heart pound.
“Are you okay? Did something happen to Molly?” I sit up once more, brushing my hair away from my face. I’d been sleeping hard; I can feel a crease on my cheek from having it firmly pressed into my pillow.
“Happen to who? Oh. Molly. She’s fine. This isn’t about her.” He clears his throat yet doesn’t say a word. It feels like he’s stalling for time and I flop back against the pillows, closing my eyes as I wait for him to say something, anything to clue me in.
But he still doesn’t.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Are you all right?”
“No. Shit. I’m not all right. You won’t be either when I tell you.” He hesitates, and in that tiny moment my heart rate shoots up even more. “I . . . received a letter from my father.”
Oh. Now it’s my turn to not talk. I have no idea what to say.
“And he mailed it to me here. To Ethan Williams.” He sucks in a harsh breath, then releases it in a shuddery exhale. “He knows my home address, Katie. And my new name.”
“Has he ever reached out to you before?”
“He’s written me a few letters over the years. I keep a post office box under Will Monroe.”
Hearing him say his real name makes something splinter inside of me. Like tiny shards of glass shooting throughout my body, piercing my most vital organs. I close my eyes, rest my hand over my chest. It’s still difficult to grasp that I’m actually talking to Will. That I’ve spent so much time with him, kissed him. Had sex with him.
“He’s never written to me here. I never gave him this address or my new name. I’m not that stupid. I needed distance from him. I wanted him to believe I’d fallen off the face of the earth, you know? He said that bitch Lisa Swanson gave him my mailing address. How could she?” Now he sounds furious. “What the fuck did she think she’d gain by doing that? What’s that crazy old man going to do for her while he’s stuck in prison, huh?”
I try to interrupt him but he won’t let me. He’s too angry, and I can’t blame him.
“I considered letting her interview me for all of about ten minutes and decided against it. Is this some sort of retaliation on her part? Because she couldn’t get me to do what she wants? I think she’s sick. Selfish. Bitch only cares about herself.”
“Ethan.” I say his name firmly, and he stops talking. “What exactly did the letter say?”
“A bunch of bullshit about how he wants my forgiveness and hopes to see me again soon.”
My stomach cramps. He wants to see Ethan. Of course he does. Ethan is his son. They have a connection that goes beyond anything that Ethan—Will—and I share. How can I even consider being with Ethan when there’s any possibility that he might reconnect with his father—my rapist—and I’d have to live with that? I couldn’t deal with it. There’s just no way.
No way in hell. I’d rather die than have Aaron Monroe be a part of my life once again.
But if I want Ethan to be a part of my life, then that means his father would be, too.
I close my eyes again, squeeze them tight to prevent even a single tear from falling. I refuse to cry. This isn’t about me right now. This is about Will. Ethan. God, whatever he wants me to call him.
“Do you want me to come over still?” I ask. If he wants to be alone I can understand. He might need to take time and process everything his father wrote to him. But maybe he wants me there, too . . .
“If I could have you here with me right now I could probably get through this shit a lot better,” he admits, sounding so incredibly tortured, so sad. “But . . . I understand if you don’t want to deal with it. This is a lot for you to take in, I know.”
He’s right. It is a lot for me to take in. And it all circles back to me. To what happened to me at the hands of his father. I’m not sure I’m ready to absorb it all, deal with it. It was bad enough discovering that Ethan is really Will. That he’d tricked me the entire time we were together and like an idiot, I never caught on.
Knowing that his father is the man who abducted and raped me, held me captive for days, is hard to face. It’s so hard to compare the two men, too. Ethan is nothing like his father. He’s sweet and kind and funny and thoughtful. He protects me, watches out for me, only wants the best for me.