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When he speaks next, it’s just a soft rasp. “Nobody was there at Alton. Or at Sheppard Pratt.” He hunches his shoulders and covers his eyes. “I don’t understand why.”
He’s breathing heavy like he’s crying behind his hand. Then he’s holding onto me, and I’m rubbing his back as he trembles and cries with his face against my shoulder for a long time.
When he pulls away, he looks embarrassed. He looks sleepy as he rubs a finger over my neck. “Sorry for the…moisture there.”
I reach out and stroke a hand through his hair. “Don’t be sorry for that. Be upset, dude. You went through some horrible shit. You should be upset.” I put my hand over his heart. “Means all that’s still working.”
He wipes his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Ez. For talking to me. And for letting me share the bed.”
He smiles, and he looks so fucking cute with sleepy, puffy eyes. I cup his cheek with my hand. “You’re so fucking badass. So damn gorgeous, and my favorite person. You killed yesterday, and Bama won the game. Surgeon said your ankle’s gonna be good, and Luke and Vance said they could fly us home if we want.”
Ezra is still smiling as he leans his head against the raised bed. He pulls me to his chest, hugging me hard, and I lean my cheek against his shoulder.
“Josh?” he whispers. I kiss his throat. “Yeah, Ez?”
“When can we go home?” He lays his head against mine, his whole body feeling heavy on me, and I feel so fucking sorry for him.
Luke and Vance come through the door a second later. Ezra sees the baby, and I’m surprised to see that he meant what he told me: He likes babies…or maybe this one in particular. We recline the bed a little, and he holds her in the crook of his arm. He keeps giving her these goofy smiles. She seems content cooing at him—and at me.
“Uncle Ezra,” Luke says.
“What about Uncle Josh?” Ez smiles at me.
“I’m not so experienced with the babies.”
It’s agreed that I should hold her, so I take her out of Ezra’s arms and try that. It feels pretty good to hold a little squishy baby, but she fusses with me—so much so that V has to take her. “Not sure that she liked that.” I laugh, feeling embarrassed.
“She was fine till she pooped,” Luke says.
“What? She pooped on me?!”
Everybody gets a laugh out of that. Even Ez is grinning as a nurse comes in to check his vitals. She offers him tablet pain pills, but he doesn’t want them. “I feel okay.”
Another person comes in with some crutches for him. Apparently, it’s well timed, because he tells me he needs the restroom. Somehow, Luke and I help him to the door of the bathroom, and he doesn’t fall on his new crutches. Then it’s just him and me.
He seems tired after we get back in the bed. So naturally, that’s when the orthopedics doctor comes back in and tells us we can leave.
“Really?” Ez says.
“Well, unless you want to stay.”
“Fuck no.” He blanches, raising his hand to his mouth like he’s regretting the F-bomb, and the doctor smiles down at him. “Let’s get you the fuck outta here.”
Less than an hour later, I’m pushing him out of the hospital. He’s wearing sweatpants and a Nike swoosh sweatshirt Luke bought from the gift shop. He looks over his shoulder a few times as I push him through the hallways, giving me these little smiles. Like he’s content despite his broken leg stretched out in front of him.
“You fucking did it,” I say as I brake the wheelchair at the McDowells’ rented SUV. I wrap an arm around his shoulders from behind.
He leans his chin down on my forearm, then kisses my elbow. “We did.”
Seven
Ezra
I’m too doped up to crutch my way up the stairs to Luke and Vance’s private plane, so Miller and Luke end up carrying me.
“Like a damn sultan,” Vance murmurs, shaking his head as they haul me past the row of leather seats where he and Eden are set up in the cabin.
That makes me laugh, which makes Josh’s eyes pop wide in alarm—as if my small laugh might make him lose his grip on me. He’s got my shins tucked carefully over his shoulders, and he’s holding me behind my lower back. Luke’s got me under the arms. It’s fucking awkward.
I’m watching Josh’s face as they move through the doorway between the cabin and the bedroom. Mills sees the bedroom space before I do, and his eyes widen again.
“A bed in an airplane,” he says, doing something with his mouth that’s somehow both a gape and a grin.
Luke says, “All yours.”
Then they’re lowering me onto the bed, and I’m seeing why Mills went all bug-eyed. The bedroom’s small, maybe half the size of my dorm room, but it’s sleek and pretty, with high-gloss fixtures and this smell like fresh-cut flowers.
