He stills, his eyes narrowing. “You gave it to charity?”

“Of course. Did you really think I’d claim that disgusting prize for myself?” I swallow hard, trying not to be offended at the idea. I ought to have warned him.

Ethan’s shoulders bunch with tension. “No. But I didn’t know what to think, Fiona. I had some fucking linebacker laughing in my face, telling me my girl went for the money.”

“Baby…I’m so sorry.” I take a step forward.

But he backs away, his face closed off. Regret punches through me.

“Do you have any idea what it did to me,” he grinds out. “To hear it from someone else? Because, let me tell you, not a single fucking person on that field knew about you giving the money to charity. They looked at me like I was a massive dupe, a fucking joke.”

Shit. I didn’t consider the lag time between asking for the money and my interview, which should be airing right about now.

“I’m so sorry, Ethan. You’re right. I should have warned you. I wasn’t thinking. I just… I wanted to set us free. I needed to take the wind from their sails. Taking that money and giving it to your charity? What can anyone say about us now?”

He expels a breath. “Okay, fine. But we should have done it together.”

I give a jerky nod, misery spreading. “I’m sorry.”

Ethan laughs without humor, tilting his head back to blink up at the ceiling. “God. You cut me off at the knees out there, Fi. I walked into that blind.”

“Ethan—”

“I know,” he says with a terse snarl. “You’re sorry. You didn’t mean it.” He glances at me, and there’s no joy in the look. “Believe me, I’m trying to get over it. But you were my safe harbor, Fi. The one person I’ve never had to worry about…”

He spits out a curse and turns away, as if he can’t look at me.

“You’re my safe harbor too,” I say, holding back a sob. “I messed up. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t think—”

“No,” he shouts, “you didn’t.”

Emotion punches into my chest, and I snap. “Damn it, Ethan. I’ve been hurting here too! It wasn’t your naked picture spread all over the Internet. You’re not the one being called a whore or having fucking creepers comment on your body!”

“You think I don’t know that?” He takes a step toward me as a deep flush works its way up his neck. “You think it doesn’t fucking gut me that I caused it? You know it does.”

“Then don’t rip into me for finally taking control of the situation! Because your whole ‘no comment’ stance wasn’t doing the fucking job.”

He freezes and frowns at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Shit, did you do it this way because you were pissed at me?”

All the air leaves my lungs. I practically choke as I stumble back. “Did you just say that? Did you just fucking accuse me? Fuck you, Ethan!”

His face twists. “Don’t get all righteous on me. I’m allowed to question this.”

“Then don’t you go getting all righteous on me,” I snap back, stabbing my finger in the air. “I get that I fucked up. I get that you’re mad. But you have no right to—”

“I’ve no right?” His expression is feral now, teeth bared, muscles bulging. “Because I’m calm, sensible Dex? The guy who takes a beating and gets back up without complaint? Well, too fucking bad. I am mad. And I’m sorry if that offends you, but I’m not going to suck this up. Not yet. Not fucking yet, Fiona!”

I hate the sound of my name on his lips—no longer reverent but a curse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper.

His chin tilts up. “I know that. I know you didn’t mean it, but…shit.” He begins to pace, his hands going to his head to pull at his hair, which is no longer there. Agitation makes his steps jerky, his arms restless. “I know. I’m just. Fuck, it. I can’t—” He takes a deep breath and then another.

I see the moment he totally loses his shit, like a dam that can no longer hold back the flood. He cracks with a long, ragged cry. “Fuck!” He slams the side of his fist against the aged brick wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Every curse punctuated by a punch.

“Ethan. Calm down—”

“No!” he shouts over me, his eyes on the wall. A sheen of sweat covers his skin, glistening over his biceps. “No. I’m so fucking sick of always being the rational one! Well, guess what? I’m done.”

His voice rises with every word, going to full-on bellow. “I’m pissed. At everything. I’m just…fucking pissed, Fi!”

Noted.

I bite my lip, tears smarting. This isn’t just about today. It’s everything that’s come before. It’s Ethan never allowing himself to fully let go until now.

With a guttural cry, he turns, tearing one of his paintings from the wall. It flies through the air, spinning like a pizza box before crashing into the far wall, the frame snapping.

I can only stand silent as he shouts, his voice filled with pain and rage. He punches the edge of the heavy wooden bookcase that divides the living room and a small reading nook. “Just—motherfucking shit!”

Books soar across the room as he hurls them in rapid succession.

I’ve always wondered how it would be for Ethan to totally lose it. Now I know. And it breaks my heart. Because I know his rage right now is pain, a soul deeply hurt that has no other outlet but to burn, hot and violent.