“He’s alive, ma’am. But he’s been involved in an incident. And… he isn’t alone.”
That last sentence hung in the cold air of our bedroom long after I hung up. He isn’t alone.
Ethan was supposed to be in Boston. He was supposed to be sleeping in a Marriott facing the harbor, preparing for a client presentation. Why was he in a New Jersey emergency room? And who was with him?
As I drove through the empty streets, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, I bargained with the universe. Let him be okay. Please let him be okay. But beneath the panic, a colder, darker question was taking root.
The universe answered my prayer for his safety, but it destroyed my illusion of his loyalty.
The Curtain Pull
The emergency room smelled of antiseptic, floor wax, and old coffee. It is a smell I will never forget.
