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but my voice didn’t even shake. The anger had taken precedence over any wariness or fear.

Ethan shook his head and plucked the beer menu from where it stood on the side of the table.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said.

“What do you mean you don’t think so?” I asked. “Leave. Now.”

He shook his head again. “No. I don’t think I will. I’m going to just look over this menu and see what this place has to offer.”

“Ethan, this is the last time I’m going to tell you. Leave. Now.”

The sickening playful note in his voice that had made my skin crawl as he did his sweet and innocent act immediately disappeared. That had been enough to push him over the edge. He leaned threateningly toward me.

“I’m not going anywhere, Hannah. I have the right to be here. Just like everybody else,” he said.

“How did you find out where I lived and worked?” I asked.

This earned an arrogant smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, assuming a casual pose.

“It wasn’t very hard at all,” he said. “My private investigator found you in a matter of days. I was just giving you time to come to your senses before I took matters into my own hands. I told you before there was no point in trying to get away from me. You’ll never be able to.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine, but before I could say anything, a form appeared at the corner of my eye, and I looked over to see Jordan standing there. He subtly pulled me behind him and faced off against Ethan.

“Get out,” he said.

No frills. No elaboration. No room for ambiguity.

“You need to stay out of it,” Ethan said back.

“I’m one of the owners of this bar, and I’m telling you right now you need to get out of here,” Jordan said.

Ethan scoffed. “I already know who you are. Do you think that impresses me? You’re the fractional owner of a neighborhood bar. You might think you can push other people around, but I’m not going anywhere until I get my beer.”

Jordan stalked over to the bar and snatched a cup of beer Ava had just filled for a customer. He brought it over to the table and shoved it toward Ethan.

“Here. Enjoy,” he said.

Some of the beer sloshed over the lip of the mug and splashed on Ethan. He stood up sharply from the table, nearly knocking it over. His eyes were flashing, his nostrils flaring. And even though he was several inches shorter than Jordan, I knew from experience this was a stance Ethan expected would intimidate anyone who got in his way. He thought people would simply back down when they looked at him that way, too afraid of what was going to happen next to go any further.

Not Jordan. There wasn’t even a hint of fear or hesitation in Jordan’s eyes. He stood tall and strong, his chest square toward Ethan and threat in his eyes.

“Ethan, you need to go,” I said. “Just get out of here.”

I was on the brink of begging. It was bad enough when it was just me grappling with what to do with his unwanted appearance. Now I had to deal with the potential clash between him and Jordan. I didn’t want to see that happen.

Ethan faced off with Jordan for another few seconds, like he was considering attacking. Finally, he took a step back.

“Fine. But I’ll be waiting at your house for you so we can talk,” he said. “This isn’t over.”

Without waiting for a response, he gulped down what was left of the beer in the mug and stalked out of the bar. I watched him in stunned silence, dumbfounded and starting to feel afraid again.

19 Jordan

Slapping the taste out of Ethan’s mouth would certainly do the trick, I thought. Maybe it would just egg him into a larger fight, but that worked, too, since I would enjoy the vicious beatdown I could give him, taking my time roughing up each side of his face equally. Then, maybe, I’d break one of his fingers. A middle one, just to make sure that he couldn’t grip anything for a while with it. Break the middle one on both hands. It would be the ultimate “fuck you.”

Those were the only ways I could think of for dealing with Ethan. Not that I didn’t know there were other ways, it was just that every time I thought of his smug face, those were the only logical outcomes of us being in the same room. Any mention of his name brought up an intense desire to rearrange his face like a six-foot Mr. Potato Head.

I worried about Hannah. She didn’t seem to take too well to my personal brand of protection ideas, and I couldn’t blame her. She was terrified of what Ethan might try, and the idea that I would resort to preemptive violence made me seem almost as bad as he was. I got that. But it didn’t stop the instinctual desire to beat the shit out of anyone who threatened Hannah, much less an ex she was scared of.

She had been staying with me for a few days. While she seemed to be doing well, I knew for a fact that I was doing a million times better. I slept better than I had in ages when she was with me and waking up actually feeling rested was something that I was greatly enjoying. Plus, every night tended to end up with us tumbling into bed with less and less clothing. That was making it even more pleasurable to have her staying with me.

We both had the late shift coming up, so our day was free when we decided to head up to the library. She was working on her mural, and I decided that hanging out there and watching her paint would be nice. I was in the kitchen packing a cooler with sandwiches and drinks when she came up to me

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