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“He caught you together?” I repeat, and he nods.
“We weren’t doing anything like that,” he says quickly, and I almost smile. “But I made him hide in the closet when my dad got home. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have taken him home with me—I didn’t know he’d be back today. I thought he was leaving—”
“It’s not your fucking fault,” Ezra growls. “This is all on your father.” Enzo’s chin trembles, but he nods. I can tell he doesn’t believe the words. He’ll never believe the words.
I take a deep breath and turn back toward Ian. He groans again, and I grab his hand.
“I’m here, bud,” I say softly. His eyes barely flutter open, and I choke out a sob. I force myself to smile through it. “Hey, baby.”
“Mom,” he breathes. Blade moves out of the way, letting me get closer. I kneel beside the bed and gently brush his black hair from his forehead, trying to ignore the way his pale skin is stained with his blood.
“I’m here,” I say. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He barely nods, his face scrunching in pain, before he relaxes into sleep again. I press a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting my lips linger.
It’s not until Ezra kneels beside me, his hand covering mine and Ian’s, that I realize everyone except Enzo has cleared from the room. My eyes meet Ezra’s, and he gives me a grim smile.
“He’s going to be okay,” he says, and I nod. “Axel says he’ll have a few scars, but he’ll be okay.” I stare back at Ian, taking in his swollen face.
“He’ll love the scars,” I say. “He’ll be just like you, Ez.”
There’s a beat of silence before he tightens his hand around us.
“God help the kid.”
Kennedy
Ilisten to Ezra’s hard footsteps as he walks through the dark apartment. Ian’s door opens, then Ezra’s deep rumble fills the silent space, telling him goodnight. I stare up at the ceiling, my hands resting on my belly.
It’s been a week since it happened. Ian is healing quickly, and he wasn’t as injured as I’d initially thought, but even a paper cut is too much.
“Night!” Ezra calls as he shuts Ian’s door. Enzo grunts from the living room and my lips twitch into a small smile. The boys are still grumpy we won’t let them sleep in the same room anymore.
He walks into the bedroom and kicks the door shut before he leans against it, folding his arms over his chest. I turn my head to stare at him, and he stares back. His eyes search mine, and mine search his.
We’re on shaky ground. I still haven’t told him I love him, and we’ve barely had time to do anything except kiss. I know it’s weighing on him—it’s weighing on me, too. But I just don’t have the mental or emotional energy to go down that path with him right now.
But there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I’m using this as an excuse to not take that last step with him. It’s telling me I’m trying to protect myself from getting hurt. But if I never take the chance, if I never just say it, I’ll still get hurt. I’ll lose him if he doesn’t think he has me. Losing Ezra would be the nail in my coffin. I don’t think I could survive it.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hi,” I say. “The boys okay?”
“All good.” He stays leaning against the door, and it makes me uneasy. He scans my face again, and I hold my breath, waiting to hear what he has to say. “Areweokay?”
“Yes,” I blurt without thinking, then close my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I open them and sit up. I pat the bed beside me and his eyes narrow before he sits beside me. “No. I think—” My eyes flick between his. “I don’t think we’re okay.”
He lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping forward, defeated. I rest my hand on his knee, and he covers it with his own. I lean against him, pressing and holding my lips against his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice thick. “I am so fucking sorry, Kennedy. I know I fucked up. I should’ve had my phone on loud. I should’ve been there to protect him, and I wasn’t.” He pinches between his eyes, and looks at me. His thick lashes are damp, and his eyes red.
Suddenly, he slides from the bed to his knees and I blink, startled. “Ez,” I say, reaching for him, but he moves out of my reach. “Come here.” He roughly shakes his head, then clears his throat.
“Let me—” He rests his hands on the bed as he stares up at me. “I’m on my knees begging forgiveness, Kennedy.”
My throat closes completely.
“I don’t deserve it. After everything I’ve said and done to you, I don’t deserve you. I should’ve never called you a bitch when we were fighting. I should've never left that night. I—I should’ve been at the bar. I should’ve been with Ian. I should’ve protected you both, and I couldn’t. I didn’t.” His words are falling from his mouth quickly, and his breathing is ragged and uneven.
“Ez, baby,” I say as I crawl toward him. He pushes away again, not letting me touch him. I kneel at the edge of the bed and stare down at him.
