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"Before what?"
He looks younger than I've ever seen him as I take in his fuller face, still with the high cheekbones and chiseled lips but now a darker tan, a harder jawline. He looks almost afraid.
My clenched stomach does a sharp dive. "Ezra, what the fuck are you talking about?”
His lips tremble as his eyes cling to mine.
“Ez?” I breathe.
“Is that what you called me?" His eyes look teary as he presses his lips flat.
"Yeah."
He drops his face into his hands as his shoulders rise and fall. He makes a soft sound, almost like a whimper. Then he’s breathing heavy. Fast. His fingers shove into his hair, clenching a tuft. I can’t help but put my arms around him. He's so big now, I can barely hold him. But I do. I hold him tight.
His face comes to my shoulder, and I notice that his arms are wrapped around himself—and not around me.
"Hey..." I stroke the back of his hair, every atom in me firing white-hot from the feel of Ezra in my arms again. "Hey, angel. Tell me what happened."
His shoulders give a little shudder. "I know I need to," he groans. Another tremor moves through his back.
"You're okay," I whisper. God, I want to kiss his cheek.
He pulls away, and his eyes are wide and haunted. "No I'm not."
I put my hand on his chest, right between his warm pecs. "You're gonna be."
His eyes hold mine as tears spill down his cheeks. “You are nice,” he chokes. “Like on your stories.” Then his face crumples like he’s going to sob. He covers it with his hands.
He’s crying so quietly that I don’t notice till I see his shoulders shaking. Then a whimper slips from his throat, and I feel like I just got punched in the gut.
"Are you saying that you don’t remember anything?” I choke. “About the two of us?" I reach for him, needing to hold him, soothe him, but my body feels frozen as I watch him move his hands off his face. Was he in an accident? How did I not know this?
"I remember you were in my car." His voice trembles, and tears are streaming down his flushed face. "I remember how I felt. I think I liked you in my Jeep beside me."
Oh God.
"You were upset." His voice breaks, and I can see how hard he’s trying not to outright sob. "In my voice messages. I didn't like that."
I look at him, at Ezra losing his shit, telling me he doesn’t know me, and I just...can't. I stand up, feeling sick and dizzy. For a long and awful second, I want to run. Then I look down at him, at his shoulders drawn in and his head in his hands. I think of Ezra waking from nightmares, looking foggy-eyed and pained and confused, latching onto me, begging me not to leave. And the wave of grief that swells in my chest hurts so much, I almost cry out.
I get to my knees beside him. Stroke my hands over his soft hair. I wrap my arms around him, and I shift so that I'm sitting with my back against the tub's side as he locks himself around me again. He’s in between my legs, on his knees. His face is pressed to my throat.
“I’m sorry. For what I did.” His body shudders. "I’m a dumbass.” All his words are choked groans.
"Hey, now. Don’t talk about my favorite person like that."
"I'm your favorite person?" It sounds half sobbed.
"Yeah you are, angel." I shut my eyes and hug him like he never left. Like I've wanted to for almost a year. I hug him like I know he needs. Like I need. Even as I try to shut my brain off and breathe around the lump in my tight throat.
"Fuck," he rasps. "I'm so fucking sorry, Josh.”
He lifts his head, looking flushed and dazed, with teary eyes. And I just…kiss him.
It's a quick, soft, warm kiss, and it shocks me so much that I sort of gasp against his mouth, and then I try to back up, but the tub’s behind me. He’s all wide eyes. His parted lips—
I kiss them again—fast and hard—and then I kiss his damp cheek. His big shoulders tremble. My whole body is misfiring. I don't want to do this in somebody's bathroom.
I move into a crouch and find his hand with my hand. Pull him up—or really, urge him up; he’s much bigger than I am now.
He looks at me. I look at him—my heart bursting with a million feelings.
“Hey Ez?” I whisper. “Let’s get out of here.”
Five
Ezra
It's surreal to hold Josh Miller's hand.
I didn't even do it. He did. He helped me up off the tile floor, and then he never let my hand go. He led us back downstairs into an empty room in the basement.
