Page 17 of Ripple Effect

The decision is a gamble. The promised windfall from Sapphire could secure me for a while, allowing me to recover and return to filming with professionals—the people in this industry who know how to separate the work from the personal.

But I don’t know if her request is a boundary I’m willing to cross.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, the strain of the decision taking its toll. And yet, Daisy’s heartbreak remains heavy in my thoughts. She loved the man she thought she knew, trusted him, and he betrayed her. I know what that feels like, to trust someone only to have them hurt you in the worst possible way.

My thoughts stray to Jackson Ford, a person I haven’t thought about in years. My old friend who, in a way, set me on this chaotic path. Back then, we were just two high school students living life on the edge. The whole world at our feet.

He was the one who introduced me to the party scene, to the thrill of letting go.

But it quickly spiraled out of control. Alcohol, then cocaine. And Jacks, my first real friend outside of Kaia, became an unpredictable whirlwind. We both did.

But that’s the thing about me and Jacks. At night, he’d put his hand on my thigh. But the next day, he’d tell me he was just drunk. He’d kiss me and then claim he was high out of his mind. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Until I was staring at my brother broken down on the pavement and chose to run away.

I thought I was protecting someone I cared about, someone who cared about me. But I was wrong. Because Jacks didn’t want me; all he ever wanted was to get high.

He used me to take money from my siblings, to support him with his reckless decisions, and then he left me high and dry, never to be heard from again. The end result was me spiraling down an uncontrollable path—a path that would take me years to recover from.

When my brother, Luca, first confronted me about everything, I didn’t know how to act. All I knew was that I didn’t want Jacks to get in trouble. And so, we fought, harder than we’ve ever fought before. I shoved him down on the pavement outside of Jackson’s house during a party, and I left him there all alone.

He was injured, and he could’ve lost everything—his shot at the NFL, the love of his fucking life. It was the wrong decision, a misstep that I wish had never happened. But it did, and it’s because I was clouded by what I thought was love.

I blink, dragging my thoughts back to the present, away from the haunting ghosts of my past. The cursor on my AfterDark message box blinks mockingly at me, reminding me of the unresolved decision.

My gaze drifts back to the blank walls of my apartment, and they seem to be closing in on me now more than ever. I’m caught in this crossroads, questioning the path I’ve chosen, the decisions I’ve made, and the ones that are yet to come.

My line of work, the persona of Everett, provides a safe space for other people to explore their sexuality, their desires, but it also requires me to compartmentalize my own life. The boundaries I’ve established to protect my sense of self have prevented me from experiencing any real, honest intimacy.

So, there’s the truth. I’d like to have a physical connection that isn’t hidden behind a computer screen or a pseudonym. But it’s not exactly compatible with my current lifestyle, my chosen profession.

As I lean back against the headboard, I close my eyes, letting the silence seep in. The questions linger in the back of my mind, an echo bouncing off the walls of my solitude:Is it even possible to have both? And if so, is it worth all the effort, the potential for another heartbreak?

A soft whine from Bentley draws my attention, his big brown eyes looking up at me with a kind of understanding that’s all too human. A faint smile pulls at my lips, and I close the laptop, deciding to postpone the decision for another day.

The irony isn’t lost on me. Here I am, a man who’s built an entire online persona to provide a sanctuary for people’s fantasies, yet struggling to navigate my own reality.

With a resigned sigh, I rise from the bed, Bentley immediately on my heels. “Come on, boy,” I mutter, giving him a scratch behind his ears. “Let’s let you out before we call it a night.”

8

DAISY

As I moveinto a new week, the initial shock of the breakup dulls. It doesn’t go away, not by a long shot, but it’s less overwhelming now. The void Logan left behind is still there, a painful reminder of our shared memories, of the love I once thought was real.

But it’s also a reminder of his betrayal, of the pain he inflicted without a second thought.

Every day, I wake up, and for a moment, I forget. I reach for my phone to send him a good-morning text, to tell him about a funny thing I saw, or just to say I love him. And then reality hits, each time a little less gut-wrenching than before.

The insecurities he sparked are still fresh, raw, and uncomfortable, and I worry that maybe there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. At least, when it comes to sex, that is.

But I remind myself of LJ’s words. I’m not responsible for his decisions. His actions aren’t a reflection of my worth. And I certainly shouldn’t question or change my desires based on his inability to stay faithful. I have the right to want what I want, to take things at my own pace, and I shouldn’t have to feel guilty about it.

And, as Elio so kindly pointed out, Logan cheating on me says more about him than it does about me. But there’s still a small part of me that’s curious about exploring my own sexuality on a deeper level.

Not for Logan, but for myself.

Sex, or even sexual attraction, has never been something I’ve thought about consciously. Not until Logan and I had been dating for quite a while. Our relationship felt so right, our connection so deep, that sex just was a natural progression for us.

I wasn’t just attracted to him physically; it was more than that. I was attracted to him as a person, to his humor, his kindness, his soul. Once I got to know him, once I fell in love with him, that’s when the physical part clicked for me. When he initiated, I found myself reciprocating, eager, turned on.

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