His anxiety attacks were what destroyed us.
EIGHT
ONE NIGHT
Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
The Grove
The sun sets, and I don’t move.
Ruby messages me to say she’s bumped into an old flame and won’t be home tonight, and I don’t move.
I have a vague notion I’m in shock, but I don’t know if I should be. I still don’t know what happened.
Ethan.
Ethan happened, but …
Did he just break up with me?
No.
No.
If he’d broken up with me, I’d know, right? He was upset, sure, but he was angry with Erika, not me.
No. It wasn’t even Erika’s fault. He was angry with himself.
So why do I feel so … wrong?
I stand and stretch, but it doesn’t help the ache in my bones. I need to do something. Help him.
I should tell him that whatever he’s feeling, we’ll work through it together. That’s what couples do, right?
But are we still a couple?
I grab my backpack with shaky hands and dig around inside until I find my phone. A small voice warns me to stop. Says that if I talk to him, he’ll clear up my confusion, and at this point, I’ll take vague hope over grim knowledge.
But I can’t not talk to him. I have to fix this.
I bring up his number and hesitate.
Please let him be blowing off steam. Let us get through this.
I pace the room as I wait for the call to connect. When it rings, I stop short.
I can hear Ethan’s ringtone, AC/DC’s “Back in Black,” coming from outside my door.
I yank the door open, and there he is, phone in hand, shoulders slumped, leaning against the wall opposite my door.
“Ethan?”
“I don’t know why I’m here.”
I can barely hear him. His voice is rough, and his knuckles are scraped and bloody. His posture is so bunched and tense it sets me on edge.
“What happened to your hand?”
He talks as if he doesn’t hear me. “Even when I’m trying to stay away, I can’t. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“Ethan? Your hand?”
When he looks at me, his eyes are red and swollen. “Punched a wall.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a pathetic fuck. You should know that by now.”
I’ve never seen him so emotionally raw. My skin prickles. This isn’t good.
“Hey, it’s okay. Come inside.” I take his hand to coax him through the door. “Let me clean that up for you.”
He reluctantly follows me inside to the bathroom. I rinse his hand under warm water and cover the scrapes in antiseptic cream. He watches me carefully. His tension fills the small room.
I want to calm him, but I don’t know how. When I try to touch his face, he moves back, just out of reach.
“Don’t…” He strides into the living room and tugs at his hair. “I should’ve gone home. From the start I knew I’d be the worst thing to ever happen to you, but I was weak. You make me so fucking weak.”
Panic crawls up into my throat as I watch him pace. He’s unraveling. Pulling apart faster than I can put him back together.
I put a hand on his chest to stop him. He looks at it like it’s a brand, burning into his skin. I drop my hand and try to keep my voice even. “Ethan, listen, whatever you’re feeling right now, we can deal with it together. Please, just…” I take a breath and try to calm myself. “Tell me how to fix this.” Then I have a horrible thought. “Can we fix it?”
He leans against the wall, brows furrowed, head back. “I don’t know.” His panic vibrates in the air, making all my hairs stand on end.
“How can I help you? Please—”
“Dammit, Cassie, I don’t fucking know, all right? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore. Since the moment I met you, I’ve been so turned around, I haven’t known which way is up. All I know is that I want to be with you, but—”
I walk over to him and take his face in my hands. My desperation matches his. “No. No buts. You are with me. Look. You’re right here.”
“I shouldn’t be.” He squeezes his eyes shut.
“You should. You’re with me, and I’m yours, and I … I love you.”
He snaps open his eyes to stare at me, and I realize this is the first time I’ve told him that. It’s strange that this is new information to him. I’ve felt it for a long time, but I guess I’ve been too proud, or too scared, or too stubborn to say it. But I have to tell him now because I’m losing him.
I watch for his reaction. Do I expect him to say it back? After all these months of compulsive passion, of course that’s what I expect. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he drops his head like I’ve somehow opened Pandora’s box and doomed us both. “Fuck. Cassie … don’t…”
“It’s true,” I say, as the ache in my chest flares. “I love you, Ethan. You’re … amazing. But I know you’re scared. The last time you opened yourself up like this, your girlfriend cheated on you with your best friend. But you know I’d never do that. I love you. And I hope that under all your fear … you can find a way to … well, I hope that … you love me, too. Right?”
Please, Ethan. Tell me I’m right.
He shakes his head. “I can’t…”