Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 33
He tucks his head down against my chest again, and I feel grateful that I get to hold him. That I can do something small to ease his pain—even if I don't know what’s the matter. I rub his back and shoulders, tickling gently, and I feel him relax some. When he's been still for a long time, I kiss his forehead, nudging his face away from my chest.
He gives me a tiny smile.
“Hold,” I whisper.
I grab a pen from my nightstand and write on his chest, just over his left pec: angel. I draw a small infinity symbol beside it.
He opens his eyes more fully, kisses my lips. "Let's go with them,” he says. “If we don't get up, I'll never be able to let you go."
The lake ends up being just what he needs. I'm surprised and also not to find that Ezra is a natural skier—even in a bulky wetsuit. He's so good, Bren introduces him to the wakeboard, and he tears the water up.
He looks happy when he climbs back into the boat. His whole face is glowing. Then he sees me, and I can't help noticing the gut-punched look on his face. Dammit, maybe he’s been somber due to something with me? I'm up next, and my fears are assuaged when he gets up on his knees in his seat, beaming back at me like a proud dad as I ski.
He seems more normal when I get back into the boat. Marcel has a go, and Ez and I sit close enough so our knees brush a few times. As Bren steers the boat under the trestle bridge, Ezra's fingers find mine and squeeze. It's how I know that everything's still all right.
In the car on the drive back home from the marina, he smiles every time his eyes catch mine. He's driving with both hands for a while, but as we near the house, his right hand envelops mine. After he parks, he looks at me and whispers, "Miller?"
I nod, and I see him swallow.
"I love you." He kisses my jaw and then traces the tip of his tongue over my cheek, a gentle tickling in what I'm pretty sure is an infinity symbol. He tugs his shirt down, nodding at his chest, which is now bare of my drawings. "Washed off in the lake,” he tells me.
"That's okay. I'll draw it back after you shower."
Mom and Carl went antiquing, so after we shower, we end up on my bed doing bad things to each other. I let him know I want to feel him in me again, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, we do sixty-nine the way we do, both lying on our sides. Afterward, we go into his room to watch a movie.
Ez lays his head in my lap and wraps his arms around my waist, as if he’s holding on for dear life. It makes me feel secure. Relaxed. I noticed something on his nightstand recently—a full-ride offer from Stanford. Which scares me. Despite what I say about how he should pick any college, I'm not sure how I would follow him to California. But I know I’ll find a way if that’s his choice school.
We end up falling asleep at the end of The Hitman’s Bodyguard. I shake him awake to see if he wants to move to my bed, and he does. We brush our teeth, and when we're in my bedroom, he seems awake.
I start us fucking around, and we end up doing the tandem thing where we jerk off rubbing our dicks together. It takes him a long time to come, but when he does, he comes hard and seems wasted after.
After we clean up, I turn the strobe light on and we tuck in.
"Mills?" he murmurs.
"Yeah, angel?"
"You didn't draw it again."
I smile. "Oh yeah. Lemme fix that."
I point the strobe light at him and scrawl the word “angel” over his pec, and then draw a little infinity sign. I seal it with a kiss.
"Forever?" he rasps.
"Oh yeah."
"Will you be in the back?" he asks.
"Yeah, of course." Ezra’s as big as me now, muscle-wise, but I'm still meatier and wider-framed, although he's taller. I fucking love how I can sort of wrap him up and fit myself behind him when I spoon him.
"Miller," he murmurs, sounding half asleep.
"Yeah, Ez?"
"Don't let go."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Yeah angel. Promise forever," I whisper.
It takes him almost an hour to fall asleep. When he does, he's tense and twitchy. I kiss his nape, fit my leg between his—everything I can to help him relax. I fall asleep with a good feeling that I've got him in my arms. That he's mine, and I’ll take care of him. I'll keep trying at this until he tells me everything. And then I'll help him.
I wake up at 6:12 a.m., my hands wandering the bed in search of Ezra. His side doesn't feel warm. I roll over, finding it empty, and something clenches in my gut—a sort of twisting dread I can't explain—so I get up and check the bathroom.
"Ezra?"
Bathroom’s empty.
I don’t know why, but I’m afraid to go in his room. It takes me half a minute to push open the door. Because I know. Somehow, I fucking feel it: something’s wrong.
I'm fucking terrified I'll find him on the floor clutching a pill bottle. When I don't, I scurry out onto the roof via his window, but he’s not there. I check in the shower again, and then downstairs. I check the downstairs bathroom by the family room, and then I check the backyard, feeling sick with what I tell myself is misplaced worry.
“Duh, Josh.” The fucking driveway! When I find his Jeep missing, I assume he's getting donuts. So I text him.
The text bubbles are green. Which means his iPhone's offline. That’s a little weird. I check my arms and legs for something scribbled on me in pen—some note that explains where he went. But…nothing.
Fuck, I can't breathe.
I call his phone, and it's off.
"Ezra?" I call through the quiet house. I go back upstairs. I can't bring myself to wake Carl, but my throat’s so tight I’m almost choking with this awful fear, so I get in my car and drive down to the Isabella mansion. My head spins so hard from nervousness that I worry I'll wreck my car for that reason—no seizure needed.
When I get there and I don't see Ezra’s Jeep, I just sit there panting for a minute with my forehead on the steering wheel.
I try his phone again, and text again, and call again and again. Nothing. Voicemail.
"Ez? Hey. Call me. Don’t know where you went and I’m worried."
Again. "Ezra? Love you. Where'd you go, man?"
One more time as I drive back home. "Please call me. I'm getting really worried."
But he doesn't. Not for an hour. I check the attic, feeling terrified I’ll find him hanging from the rafters, but the space is quiet and empty. I try his phone again, telling myself maybe he went out to get the bacon and pimento biscuits; sometimes service out there isn’t so good.
Half an hour passes. I sink onto the couch, feeling paralyzed by fear I tell myself it’s probably all in my head. At 8:15 a.m., I knock on Mom and Carl's door. My mom answers, wearing her robe.
"What's the matter, honey?"
I tell her I can't find Ezra. She gets Carl. For a moment, everything is chaos—all of us checking the house, even though I told them that his Jeep is missing.
Mom and Carl ask if something happened with Ezra and me.
“No, nothing. At all.”
Mom calls Ezra, finding that his phone is still off. “Well, that’s strange. Maybe he went out with friends.”
And then Carl checks his phone. I watch as his face goes somber. When he looks up, it's at my mom and not me.
He makes a face as if there's something he needs to tell her, and I feel almost faint with fear.
Carl frowns from Mom to me. "I have a text from him." He says it slowly.
"And?" I snap.
I see him swallow. He looks down and then back up—right at me.
"It says that he's going back to his mom's.” The words are so slow, monotone, and I don’t understand them. “He says...he wants to move back." Carl's brow furrows as he looks at me. "Josh, did something happen?"
My body flashes hot then cold, like a light bulb that just blew. "I said no. Nothing.” I reach for his phone. “I want to see the text.”
Carl hesitates for just a second, but I snatch it away, my heart pounding so damn hard I think I’ll pass out.
‘Hi Dad. Sorry to leave without saying bye. I’ve been thinking on it and I think it’s good to finish out the year up there with Mom. For closure. Thanks for letting me stay with you. I enjoyed the time a lot. Talk soon- Love Ezra’
I stare at it till the words blur. “That…can’t be true.” I look from Carl to my mom. “That can’t be what he really said. He was just with me!”
I run upstairs and check his room—first the drawers and then under the bed, inside the box spring.
But Carl’s right. He’s fucking right, goddammit. Everything is gone.
But not his toothbrush. Not his aftershave stuff. I walk into my room, breathing so hard I can hear myself. I look at my nightstand, underneath both pillows.
Nothing.
I think of the way we dozed off. Things were okay. Things were good. I call him again…and again…and then a third time as my breath catches in my throat and tears start dripping down my cheeks.
“Hey Ezra? What’s the matter, man? I’m really worried. Please call. I don’t believe you would just go. Without some kind of…I don’t know. Did your mom find out? About us?”
As soon as I hang up, I call back. "Ez. It’s me. Are you okay? Can I come see you? Can you call me?"
I'm calling again, pacing my room, gripping the phone so hard it hurts my hand, when Mom cracks the door open.
"Josh—"
“Did you talk to him?” I ask her.
“No.”
"Then get out!"
I call again, not proud that I'm losing my shit. "Ezra, please! Please call me, angel. I don't know what I did wrong, but call me. Please. I want to know that you're okay. I need to."
One more time—again to voice mail. I hurl my phone at the window.
Seven
* * *
Ezra
December 10, 2018
"Okay, Mr. Masters. Quick song and dance, and then we'll get this started."
I nod.
"Remember to lie still and let us do our jobs or your arms will need to be strapped down. No one likes that." The nurse winks.
My stomach pitches.
“Did you give your consent to treatment?”
I nod.
“Can I get a verbal yes, Mr. Masters?”
I swallow and choke the word out. “Yes.”
She looks me over, and her eyes catch on something. She’s frowning as she pushes the sleeve of my gown up, exposing the lower part of my bicep. "Did you write on yourself?" Her brows rumple over her brown eyes.
I look over her shoulder, at the pale wall. "Something I want to remember."
"Would you like for me to write it on a piece of paper for you? I can give it to your mother?"
"No. Don’t. Please,” I manage.
"All right, well, looks like we're all set. I'll leave the room. Lie on the bed, and the team will be in in several minutes."
Eight
Ezra
December 16, 2018
Hey Millsy.
I’m so sorry.
I love you.
I miss you more than words can even convey. I miss you so much, sometimes I think I can’t keep breathing without you.
I’m in here again. At Sheppard Pratt.
It’s so crazy how it all went down, but my mom’s crazy. When Dad called her to tell her I’m gay and they should support me and be proud, he didn’t know what trouble it would kick off.
As soon as Mom found out that I’ve been ‘living the gay lifestyle’ in Fairplay, she went ballistic. She’s a zealot, and there’s nothing worse to her than a gay son.
She called and told me if I don’t come back to Sheppard Pratt and get back on psych meds to “control those urges”- she’ll tell the police…this secret I have. It’s a secret nobody can ever know. Not even you.
I made Mom swear she wouldn’t tell Dad that I’m here again. I know you’ve gotta be upset and confused, but if you knew I was in here, I’m pretty sure you’d be more upset.
I don’t like to think about you being worried or scared for me. I think if you’re just pissed off, that might be better.
The second I’m done with this shit to appease my mom and protect my secret, I’ll find a way to get back to you, and I promise I’ll earn your forgiveness. It should only be about a month, if things go as planned.
I got a tattoo as I was driving up to Mom’s, the day I left. I had the idea when you drew on me that day before I left. I already knew I was going to be leaving. I asked you to re-draw the angel and the infinity symbol so I could try to take something of you with me. Not just a material thing, but something of yours that could be a part of me.
I ended up not having that much cash, so I just got the infinity symbol you drew. Even though I’m not doing ok right now, it still brings me peace. I touch it all the time.
I don’t know if I’ll send this letter. I don’t know if I can.
I had three sessions of ECT so far. It’s been fine. Just like last time I was here, at the end of last winter. These people think electrocuting my frontal lobe is the holy grail for ‘treatment resistant bipolar depression’. Which- Mills- I don’t have. That’s the headline. I don’t have psychosis either. I don’t think so, anyway.
I’m pretty sure I’m just fucked up because of Alton and my mom. Nobody here at Sheppard Pratt the first time I was here even know about Paul or Alton. This is just a normal psych hospital. When Mom brought me here last time, it was right after I got out of Alton. I was fucked in the head. She made me promise not to tell them anything about Alton.
Since the people here at Sheppard Pratt didn’t know what I had come from- at Alton- they just thought I was nuts. Nothing that they did would help me, because I guess I had ptsd, not depression- so I ended up with electroshock therapy. I was still a fucked up wreck after I got out of here last time.
Modern medicine can’t fix everything. But you can, Miller. When I was with you, I barely even feel bad, except nightmares.
I feel shitty that I didn’t tell you everything about my past. Part of me is also glad you don’t know. I don’t want you to know how messed up I am. I don’t want to hurt you with it.
It would hurt you. We both know how fucking nice you are. You’re the best thing. I hate to think about you, because it makes me miss you so much, but I can’t help it.
They say ECT can make your memories blurry sometimes, but it didn’t happen to me last time I was in here. Also, this shit with us is fire-proof. Seizure-proof.
Seizures… I hope you’re okay.
I love you. I don’t even like being in love. It scares me. But I love you. So much I could never say no to it.
My mom thinks I’m on board with “getting in a better head space” here at Sheppard Pratt. Using their psych meds to not feel gay anymore- or whatever crazy bullshit she thinks.
In case you’re wondering- Mom called me that day we went to your dad’s house. I knew right away that I was fucked, as soon as she told me Dad told her I was gay and happy in a relationship. She said I had to come back home to her and “address the issue”. Like it’s a drug problem or something.
You know what I did, Miller?
I told her- on the phone, on the roof outside your room- that I wouldn’t. That I was staying with Carl. I told her everything about us (except who you are). That I found someone I love and that Dad supports me. That I’m gayer than the fucking world and she can suck it. Okay- I didn’t say that exactly.
I didn’t think my mom could surprise me. Not at this point. But she did. She said if I didn’t come back to her house, go back to Sheppard Pratt, she would tell the police that I’m unstable. And she’d tell them what happened with Paul.
I did something terrible one time, Millsy. But I did it because I had to. I guess you could call it self-defense. It’s something that, if people found out, it would ruin my life. Like, really ruin it. And my mom knows that. That’s why she used it as a threat. That’s why it worked.
One day I’ll tell you about all that shit. One day in the future- maybe one night I can get you drunk, or feed you Xanax. So it won’t upset you.
I think it would really hurt to hear it. If you still love me.
You might not love me now.
I love you, though. So much. I need you. I can’t sleep without you. I can’t even say how much I hate it here. They’ve got me on so many different meds- just because I can’t handle being back in this place. They don’t know I’m gay or about Alton, that my mom is making me come here because she’s crazy. They think I’m depressed. The whole thing is a lie, and it makes me feel like I’m suffocating.
Everything about being in a hospital reminds me of Alton. I had to stay in that white room for so long. One of the clinic rooms.
I’m glad you can’t read this note.
I don’t like it here, Mills.
Sometimes I get scared.
Here, they think I have psychosis. Something like that.
But I’m just scared without you.
I’m so scared without you. Nothing ever helps. I’m just hardwired now to go crazy at hospitals. I try to calm down, but I can’t.
I want to call my dad. I want to ask how you are.
Josh, I want to call you. I love you, Josh Miller.
Mom said all I have to do here is get back on antidepressants so I won’t ‘feel those urges’ and do a booster round of ECT. And then I can come home. To her house, of course.
But it’s okay. It’s only temporary. I’ll get out of there as fast as I can. Anything we need. I can start college early in August, and then we’ll be together. Forever, I promise.
When I’m done with ECT and feeling like myself, I’ll call and write you.
If Mom thinks I don’t want to un-gay myself, my life is over. I won’t just be in trouble with the law, but everyone would find out what happened to me. That I was –
You know.
What happened.
You don’t know, and it’s okay. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I’m not sending this letter. I’m about to rip it up or hide it. I just need to keep my hands busy. When I’m not holding something, both of them shake from the meds.
