“You should come visit Gary for Christmas,” she said, as though Ezra wasn’t on the verge of enraged tears. His eyes glistened as she kept talking. “He’d love to see you and you can both work out your issues. He’ll be alone for Christmas. I have a double shift at the hospital.” She rolled her eyes. “You know what those seniors are like. So needy. But most of them are in palliative care anyway.”
The more she talked, the more I hated her. The hand that I wasn’t using to hold Ezra’s wrist balled into a fist. I wanted to end her.
She smiled. “So, you should spend Christmas Day with Gary. I’m sure he’d love it.”
“No,” I struggled out sharply, earning a surprised and confused look from his mom.
Ezra’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “I’d rather rot.” His eyes were wild, a storm brewing in the hazel depths, and I understood that feeling well because I’d felt the same about my own father.
“Ezra—”
“We’re done here,” Ezra snapped, glancing at me. “Let’s go.”
I nodded and sent his mother a scowl before I took Ezra’s hand and led him away. She called his name, but we ignored her. Ezra’s palm was sweaty in mine, and I gripped it tighter to let him know I wasn’t going to let go.
We left the mall, Ezra stomping with more aggression than I’d seen from him before. Once we had the rest of the bags loaded into the car, we both got inside the cab. I switched on the ignition to turn on the heater, and he settled into the passenger seat, stare distant as he gazed at the building.
I stayed silent, aware of his bad mood seeping out of him, as though expunging all the poison in his system. When finally, his shoulders drooped, I grabbed his hand and threaded our fingers together.
He sent me a small smile. “I hate them. Both of them.”
I tilted my chin to let him know I understood.
“We moved in with him when I was thirteen. We’d been alone since my dad left. I think I was about six or seven when he walked out the door. I don’t know.” A tick began in his jaw and his nostrils flared. “We’d never been close anyway. She always went from one man to another, searching for someone to take care of her. When she couldn’t find another man, she turned toGary, her brother. We moved in with him, and he hated me from the beginning. I didn’t know him before that, didn’t know he existed. Sometimes I wonder if he is really my uncle.”
I clutched the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.
“I wasthirteen. Innocent. I thought I was getting a father figure, but instead I was his punching bag. It started the week we moved in. I told Mom, and she didn’t believe me. Said I was misbehaving and Gary probably spanked me.” He laughed sadly. “Said I’d been a bad kid since Dad left. I was out of control. And I was, that much was true, but I thought she’d believe me about Gary.”
The tears that had been glistening in his eyes since he’d seen her escaped, dropping and sliding down his cheek. I released my hold on the steering wheel to brush one away with my thumb.
“He had a tradition on Christmas Eve. It was his favorite game.” His voice shook. “He made me watch all theHome Away From Homemovies, even the horrible sequels, without going to the bathroom. Threatened that if I did, he’d throw me and my mom out. It scared me at the time. He forced glasses of water down my throat with more threats, making it worse. Even if I was ready to burst and begging him to let me use the toilet, he wouldn’t until I pissed myself right there on the couch. Then he’d make me clean it up with a toothbrush. The beatings were worse if I didn’t do what he’d told me to. He threatened to hurt Mom in ways I never want to talk about. He scared me.” He gave me a shaky smile, everything about himtrembling. “I hate her for not believing me when I did so much for her. And I hate him, too. I despised Christmas for so long because of Gary.”
“Do you want them to die?” I asked, ignoring the aching pain from talking. For Ezra, I would accept any type of agony.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not her.” Another few tears tracked down his flushed face. “I want her to suffer.But Gary?” This time when he smiled, it was in rage. “He deserves death.”
I leaned closer and brushed my nose against his. Our lips met, soft and sweet, and his taste was intoxicating. I wasn’t gay, straight, or bisexual, and while I didn’t know what label I belonged to, I knew one thing for sure—I was definitely Ezrasexual. “Then, he will die.”
9
EZRA
I spent all of Monday morning with Lucy. She’d begun teaching me the basics of sign language while Sam was at work, just like Bee promised she would. I wasn’t sure if she was going to show up, but she’d arrived at the front door with breakfast takeout and mimosas.
“Alcohol? At this time?” I’d asked with an amused grin.
“Trust me, we’re going to need it,” she’d responded in all seriousness with a dramatic swish of her long brown curls.
As noon passed and it hit four in the afternoon, my brain was full and I had signs to learn. I was still practicing “My name is Ezra” when Lucy turned to me from where she stood in the kitchen, the nearly empty carafe of mimosas clutched in her hand as she poured us another drink.
“I heard we’re going to kill your uncle.”
I froze, ice seeping into my veins. When Sam and I returned home yesterday, we didn’t talk about it again. He made me food, and then we spent the rest of the afternoon and night binge watchingBridgerton, some romance TV show set in the regencyperiod. There were a few hot guys in it, and I couldn’t say no to wet shirts and steamy sex.
“What?” I dropped my hands into my lap and stared at her from where I sat at the dining table.
“Hmm?” She winked and brushed light brown curls away from her face. Her lips were painted a deep red today and it suited her complexion. “Sam called Bee last night and told her that we’re putting a hold on the rapist and killing your uncle first. Apparently, we’ve got four and a half weeks to plan it. The job’s on for Christmas Day.”
