บททั้งหมดของ My Dear Master, We're Mates! (M×M): บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

ETHAN“We're meeting him today!” Jaz squeals, fingers loosely holding a cup of coffee. She's dressed to the nines—grey pants, white shirt that exposes her milky collarbone, and lips in a shiny red color that'll send any guy to his knees. We walk into Grey corps side by side, and while she has excitement on her face, I'm inwardly screaming. A new boss. I'm the personal assistant of that new boss. Luther made me face hell on earth. He always wants me busy, working, reading files over and over again for a single mistake. Hell, I'm so glad he's gone. A day before yesterday, Jaz took me to a restaurant, and it was more of a date—even though she tries to deny it. She keeps saying she wants me to loosen up, to forget about him, but I still keep seeing his silver hair in my dreams. She's making an effort to help me forget—I don't think it'll work, though. Jaz suddenly turns to face me, shoving her coffee in my hands. “Tell me, Ethan.” She whispers, lips in a tight, enchanting smile. Her h

ETHANGwendolyn wraps her arm around my waist. “You're back late,” she says, while Jaz crouches down to her level. Jaz caresses her cheeks, lips curling into a faint small. “Ethan had to work late to get some things done,” she whispers, fingers still lingering on Gwendolyn's chubby cheeks. “All that matters is we're home now, right?” Gwendolyn nods. “Mom made dinner,” she adds with a smile, running into the house as Jaz and I walk after her. Marinette's home always reminds me of my parents’—the intoxicating scent of roasted chicken that rises from the kitchen, the soft laughter that spills from mom's lips each time my father tickles her waist, the goodnight kisses…I miss the cuddles, the teasing—everything. I still feel guilty, though, because I believe I murdered them. Jaz and I talk about work while having dinner. Marinette keeps laughing each time Jaz talks about her experience with a young man at work. Apparently, the man told her she's too elegant and pretty to be sin

ETHANMy muscles quiver as heat flushes through my body. I push the files on my desk to the ground, watching as they flutter around like feathers, but that isn't enough to quench the flames of anger burning my chest. I loosen my tie a bit, feeling the sickening urge to punch a wall consume me. Why does he keep doing this? Why does he keep twisting the knife?“Wear brighter colors, black makes you lazy. Your private life has everything to do with me.” My jaw tightens as his words replay in my head, and this time, I'm punching a wall. Pain spreads to each damn nerve, making my fingers tremble, but I don't fucking stop. Why does he care if I'm fucking a brunette? Why does he keep staring at me like a pile of trash? He doesn't remember a single thing about me. Or maybe, just maybe he's pretending. Whatever he's doing to rile me up, it's working, but I'm not going to give him that satisfaction. No. Holding my bloody knuckles, I sink to the floor, surrounded by fallen papers. My hea

ETHAN It's the weekend—but I'm still struggling to put my shoes on by 6:50 A.M. Anger burns through me as I grab my black blazer, wearing it over the black shirt on the inside with tiny red dots. I hurry down the stairs, eyes brushing over the lounge. Marinette's staring at me, her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. “Didn't you say you'll be taking Gwen to the amusement park today?” Grabbing the coffee from her grasp, I give her an appreciative smile, cursing Alexander on the inside. “I have work,” I say, feeling the weight of guilt press down on my chest. Gwen’s been waiting for weeks—for the perfect time I'll be less busy, but it only takes a message from Killan to ruin everything. I should call him Alexander. Killan wouldn't be so cruel. Jaz finally shifts her gaze from the TV show she's watching. She looks sleep deprived and tired—but she still manages to make the lounge her runway. She shakes her head, fingers wrapped around a small remote. “Who works on a Saturday?” S

ETHANI don't know what to feel. Anger. Pain. Rage? I'm not sure about pain, but I sure feel anger as I walk down the deserted streets that lead to the city. My palm still tingles with the warmth from his bare skin. I felt his muscles, his heartbeat, I saw the confusion in his eyes when I called him Killan. Is he starting to remember? Is he sick of pretending? Is he more determined to cause me pain? I wonder if I should call Jaz for a ride. Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I scroll down my contact list, and when I see her name, I shake my head and place my phone back in my pocket. She doesn't deserve to see me like this—broken, hurt, flushed—when all she's done is to help me get better. Taking deep breaths, I walk for a few more minutes, maybe hours, before I finally find a taxi. Throughout the ride, I keep thinking about Killan. I'm starting to realize how much I miss him, how much I want him back, how much I want him even with all his secrets. I don't care about them anymore