The Blank Canvas (Apartment #2) (5 page)

Lily’s voice.

She wasn’t calling him—her voice was muffled, like the phone was being held away from her—but he would know her voice anywhere.

“No! Please no! Please, not right now, Maggie. Please! Not like this.”

Click.

Somehow he had missed the message when it had first come in. Some of the others he’d heard already, before he’d started just flat-out ignoring them. All this time without her, and he’d had her voice right there in his phone the entire time.

He had no idea what the call was about. The only thing he could assume was that Maggie tried to call him to bitch him out when she’d first found out what had happened, and Lily must have been there.

She sounded so broken, so sad.

Stop! You did the right thing. You did the right thing
.

He listened to the message again and again, barely letting it finish before starting it over. When he closed his eyes he could see her as clearly as if she were lying next to him, her long tresses spread out over the sheets as she smiled up at him. Before long the sound of her voice on the recording began to bleed into his imagination, and then his beautiful goddess was looking up at him with tears in her eyes, begging him for an explanation, begging him not to leave.

She was haunting him.

As much as it killed him to think of her like that, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He kept telling himself that he needed to forget her, but he missed her so fucking much that he knew he would take whatever small piece of her he could get to keep her alive in his memories—even if those memories were painful.

It felt as if part of him had been ripped away, as if he had somehow become an amputee. Glancing at his luggage once again, he sighed loudly, finally admitting defeat. Whenever that feeling showed up, he knew it was useless to fight it anymore.

Slowly getting out of bed and walking toward the bag in question, he quietly unzipped the side pocket, as if at any moment someone would hear and call him out for being the pathetic, perverted loser that he truly was. Pulling the item out quickly, he returned to bed, clutching his prize to his chest as he reached for his phone.

Pressing play yet again, Ethan lay back on the only remaining pillow, listening to her scared, sad voice on repeat until he finally fell asleep, a dark blue scrap of lace knotted in his fist.

As the natural light began to fade from the windows, Ethan looked up from his canvas and saw that it was already after 7 p.m. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even glanced at the clock, and the loud growl in his stomach indicated he certainly hadn’t eaten.

Without moving his eyes away from his latest project, he backed away slowly until his legs bumped into the small desk behind him that held the phone. Dialing the extension from memory, he quickly ordered up a pot of coffee and a turkey sandwich, not wanting anything that would take his attention away from his painting for longer than a few bites. He knew he should probably have gotten something more substantial, but considering he had gone almost three days on an empty stomach, he figured that anything was better than nothing.

Within a heartbeat he was back in front of his easel, swirling and streaking different colors across the stretched fabric. Zoning out in front of his paintings had become his typical day for… how many days? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he had finally given himself over to his body’s driving need to paint, and he had gone back and finished every single piece he’d started, as well as many new ones.

The last time he could remember being so focused and immersed in his work, he’d been on a four-day bender and Rachel had only interrupted him to refill his nose candy. But this time felt completely different. He wasn’t rushing to meet a deadline or trying to impress anyone. This time, he had somehow found his own world… his own version of paradise filled with nothing but memories of Lily… and he never wanted to leave.

In what felt like less than five minutes but was likely closer to twenty, there was a loud knock on the door. Swearing to himself under his breath for not thinking to unbolt the damn thing in advance so that room service could just come in without his needing to stop, Ethan set his palette and brush down and made his way across the room. Feeling through his empty pockets as he walked, he grumbled even louder as he reached his destination.

“I hope I can sign your tip on the room, man,” he called to the door as he reached for it. “I’m all out of cash.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can work something out,” a deep, menacing voice answered as Ethan pulled back the door to reveal a very large, very angry looking man.

Ethan stared for a moment, blinking, not believing who he was seeing.

“Eric?” he whispered.

The large man allowed an evil grin to spread across his features before replying. “Hey, bro.”

And then he proceeded to pull back one of the biggest fists that Ethan had ever seen and pound it straight into the side of his face.

Before he could even register the sickening thud, Ethan saw sparks flash in his vision as he was catapulted across the room, landing flat on his back as the world went dark around him.

* * *

The sound of clinking china was the first thing Ethan registered.

As he opened his eyes slowly to get his bearings, he noticed two other things right away. One: only his right eye was cooperating with him and no matter how hard he tried to open his left, it just wouldn’t budge. And two: he was flat on his back on the carpet while Eric was sitting at the small table above him, apparently drinking his room service coffee.

He tried to shift so that he could sit up, but the action only sent a wave of pure agony straight to his face. His loud groan sounded more like a wounded animal than a man, but it simply made Eric smile wider as he poured himself another cup.

“Awww,” he teased. “Does the widdle baby got a booboo?” Ethan peered up at him through the one eye that wasn’t already swelling shut, causing a ridiculous winking expression that set Eric off into a fresh fit of laughter. “Dude, you look like Popeye!”

“Fuck you,” Ethan grunted out through clenched teeth as he finally struggled into a sitting position, propping himself up with his hands on the floor behind his back.

“Oh, fuck
me
?” Eric raised an eyebrow sharply as he looked at the disheveled man in front of him. “Let’s not start with that, my friend. My ‘fuck you’ list is longer. I’ll win.” He stared him down for a moment before chuckling again. “Besides, I took it easy on you. That was only about half power.”

“Bullshit,” Ethan whined. “I feel like my face is on fire. Everything’s swelling up.” He slowly pulled himself up by the edge of a chair and sat down on the other side of the table, gingerly prodding at his sore cheek with the tips of his fingers.

“Not my fault you’re a lightweight, bro.” Eric slurped loudly from the tiny china cup and merely winked when Ethan flipped him off.

“How did you find me?” Ethan asked after settling back into his chair with a groan.

Eric sighed deeply before finally setting the cup down. “You think the NFL has never had to track down some asshole player on a bender? We have our ways.” He meticulously unfolded a linen napkin as he spoke, scooping up a large handful of ice from a bucket before wrapping it up and handing it to him. “Here. Put this on your eye. It’s still gonna be an ugly son of a bitch, but it should help with some of the pain and swelling.”

“Thanks,” Ethan grunted, gingerly applying the makeshift icepack to his cheekbone.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I knew that New York was the last city you were living in before Rachel took off. When one of the Giants needed help after a torn ACL this week, I thought there might actually be a chance of finding your dumb ass.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Did you think that none of us would find you or did you just think that nobody would ever bother looking?”

“Nobody ever did before,” he said quietly.

“Well that’s because you acted like a pompous shithead who had no time for his family,” Eric gritted out between clenched teeth, years of resentment spilling out. “We didn’t want to bother you when you made it more than clear that your lives were much too fabulous for us,” he mocked.

“But that’s not—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Eric interrupted, waving him off. “That’s not how it ended up. I know that
now
, but that’s sure as shit how it started out,” he sighed. “Believe me, I wish that bitch were still around so I could put my boot up her ass for putting you through that, but none of us would have let you go on that way if we’d had one fucking inkling of how depressed you really were. Shit, Mom would have backpacked through Europe with attack dogs if she’d known what was going on.”

Ethan stared down at the table, unable to meet his brother’s eyes. Eric was totally right. If he hadn’t allowed Rachel to feed his already overgrown ego, things never would have gotten as bad as they’d become. If he’d only forced himself to speak up when he first had his doubts, things might have turned out completely different.

“Here, eat something,” Eric said, an odd catch in his throat as he looked at Ethan closely for the first time since he’d barged in. He shoved the untouched turkey sandwich towards him across the tabletop. “You look like hammered shit.”

Ethan knew he must. There were dark rings underneath his eyes from numerous sleepless nights, and his skipped meals had caused his cheekbones to protrude. His skin had taken on a sallow hue from his lack of sunlight and fresh air, and he couldn’t remember when he last showered.

They sat together for over a minute in total silence as Ethan ate, wincing at the pain in his face every time he had to chew. When he swallowed his food, Eric could have sworn his Adam’s apple would slice right through his throat as it bobbed up and down, his neck had gotten so thin.

Clearing his throat nervously, he forced himself to speak. “Alright, fuck it. I’m just gonna ask. Are you strung out?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Cut the bullshit, Ethan!” he roared, slamming his fist down on the table and causing the fragile teacup to rattle on its saucer. “Are you fucked up right now, or not?”

“Why would you think I was fucked up?”

“Because I have eyes!” he yelled. “You look horrible! You’ve lost weight! You obviously haven’t been sleeping. I saw all those canvases in the other room. You’ve been working yourself to the bone! As soon as you disappeared I got worried that you were going to fall off the wagon. I’ve been fucking terrified for almost three goddamn months that you were going to turn up dead!” He grabbed the small rattling cup and threw it against the wall, not feeling any better when it shattered into tiny pieces. “Now, are you actually going to sit there looking like that and tell me that you’re not snorting that fucking poison again?”

“It’s been three months?” Ethan whispered.

“You
see
?” Eric bellowed. “You don’t even know what fucking day it is, do you? How about the month?”

Ethan looked down at the table in silence, trying to remember whether the cleaning staff had changed the sheets yesterday or not. He had told them that he didn’t want to be disturbed more than a few times a week, so they had set up a schedule to clean on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays only. After wading through caffeine-induced moments of clarity, he concluded that no one had been in his room for two full days.

“Is it Sunday?” he guessed.

“Jesus Christ, man. You really aren’t sure, are you?”

Ethan took a deep breath and looked up to meet his brother’s angry glare. “I’m not high, Eric.” When Eric made to stand up and began pulling his fist back, Ethan waved his hands in front of him. “Wait! Wait! Hear me out!”

“Start talking, asshole. You’ve got about thirty seconds before
both
of your eyes are swollen shut.”

“I swear I’m not high. I haven’t touched that shit in well over a year. I can’t lie and say that I’m not a little strung out, I guess, but it’s not drugs.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

“It’s
her
,” he choked out.

“Who, Lily?”

Ethan visibly flinched at hearing her name again, as if he’d been slapped in the face. Unable to speak, he simply nodded, a deep look of anguish etched on his features.

“What the—?” Eric started, cutting himself off and breathing deeply before finishing his thought. He was determined to calm down and get some answers out of his halfwit brother if it killed him. “Why the fuck did you break her heart and take off if you were only going to hole up here and pine away for her?”

Ethan let out a loud sob, reaching forward and grabbing onto Eric’s wrist with all of his strength. “Please,” he begged in a harsh gasp, “Please tell me that I did the right thing.”

“The
right thing
? How could anything that you’ve done lately be called the ‘right thing?’” Eric clearly wasn’t trying to be hurtful with his question, it was simply honest bafflement speaking.

“Tell me that she forgot about me and married that guy. Tell me that she’s happy and moving on with her life. Tell me that I didn’t give her up for
nothing
!” His last word was strangled by another sob. Eric watched as his brother completely broke down in front of him, burying his head in his hands and finally allowing the dam that held back the last of his emotions to shatter.

“Dude, I don’t understand anything you’re saying. I thought you were into her. You were just talking about wanting her to end her engagement and then the second she says she will, you bail. I’m sorry, but that makes no fucking sense whatsoever.”

“I got
scared
!” he yelled into his hands before looking up at him. “I was convinced that there was no way she could be feeling what I was feeling. I was terrified that she would give everything up to be with me and then realize that I’m not fucking worth it!” Ethan wiped blindly at his eyes with the back of his hands, yelping when he rubbed his bruising flesh too roughly. Taking another deep breath to calm himself, he waited a moment before continuing. “I didn’t want her to ruin her life to be with me. I’ve been a selfish fuck my whole life, Eric. This was the first time I’ve ever tried to put someone else first. I knew she would eventually be miserable with me, so I took myself out of the equation.”