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He certainly didn’t ask for permission the first night he stole my heart.
I have to be careful, though. Ezra won’t let go easily, and like the beast he is, he’ll try to drag me onto that battlefield again. I have to be strong enough to resist.
Without bothering for him to knock, I walk outside and watch as he turns off his bike and leans back to pull off his helmet.
He doesn’t move, and I lean a shoulder against the doorway, both of us staring at each other with our own plans of where to go from here.
Eventually, he nudges his chin and crooks a finger to silently call me over.
Sighing, I push away from the front door, close it, and go to him because the simple truth is that I love this man regardless of how obstinate and frustrating he is.
The second his amber stare traps mine, my body buzzes with the need I always feel for him, but beneath that, there is a cold vein of loss.
I’m losing him.
For good this time.
It makes me desperate to hold on, to step onto that battlefield, to feed the beast.
But I can’t.
To do so would only prevent him from finding the tools he needs to grow beyond what he’s become.
To forgive him without making him face the truth would be to prevent him from learning to forgive himself.
Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I hold strong and refuse to let them fall.
Ezra doesn’t say a word, he just hands me his helmet and pats the back of his bike.
I tilt my head in silent argument. He tilts his in return, a half grin tugging at his lips that reminds me of the look he used to give me in high school when all of this first started.
It’s a look that reminds me I can fight all I want, but he’ll still lead me like a sinner into Hell far too easily.
A look that dares me to lie and say I don’t want him.
The same look that dragged me into shadowed spaces where I could kiss the parts of him that were broken as we both fell in love with an impossible future.
Rolling my eyes, I climb on the bike behind him and pull on the helmet. He turns to make sure the straps are cinched tight, knocking on the top of the helmet with his knuckles as a tease.
Twisting to face forward, he starts the bike and then reaches back to tug me tighter against him, our thighs pressed together, my chest to his back. I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight, but not just for the ride.
I’m holding on to this moment, my muscles burning from how hard I squeeze, his heat sinking beneath my clothes, the hard strength of his body filling me with the temporary relief of safety.
I hold on even while knowing I’ll have to let go.
The bike takes off, and within a few minutes we’re on a deserted road. I have no idea where he’s going. Not that I care. I’m simply enjoying the feel of him against me, my head laying against his broad shoulder as he weaves through turns and takes us far away from our problems with engagements and brothers and abuse and secrets.
I feel like we’re running away just so we can pretend it’s possible to be together. If only for a few hours.
Even when we both know it’s not.
Still, I don’t mind holding onto him, or the silence, or the wind colliding with our bodies as the stars and moon light our path.
Eventually, Ezra turns, and we weave a narrow road to reach a large lake, the shore sandy and the dark water undisturbed.
It reminds me of the beach on the night he made me promise him an impossible future, our bodies warmed by a large bonfire.
Except there are no flames licking the sky, no waves breaking that lend white noise to the quiet environment.
