Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 57
I said, “Well, it’s not for life.” And they said that’s a turning point for me. Me thinking that it’s not for life…that I’m not head-fucked for the rest of my life. They thought that was a big deal.
“And you’re right,” they said. “You’re not. Healing from those things is possible. You’re doing it now.”
I think about that as I look down at my bandaged leg, then at the flowers.
“Ez deserves all the flowers.”
I look at Miller, at his arm wrapped snug around me and his legs stretched out the other way, so they won’t get near my hurt ankle.
Josh thinks I deserve flowers. Even after everything I put him through, he loves me. It’s so weird. It’s almost unbelievable, but so much time has passed, and so much shit has happened, I believe him.
I’m taking deep breaths for the ankle pain and dreaming up a plan for filling Miller’s new apartment with flowers on Valentine’s Day when Vance steps into the room.
He smiles at us. Then he turns away from the bed and crouches down, and when he rises up, he’s holding a blue Icee. I can’t help a shocked laugh. “What the fuck?”
He grins. “Your boy, the OG Miller, told us you can’t fly without your Icee.”
I can’t help laughing my ass off.
“Miller’s crazy,” I whisper.
“About you.” Vance waggles his brows as he hands it to me. “Miller texted as he fell asleep and asked if I could check on you at this time, offer you a pain pill?”
I don’t want to take it, but I nod, and he says, “Don’t worry about it, man. I took them too, after my accident, and I came off them just fine. You’ve just gotta taper off.”
I swallow the pill, and Vance smiles down at Miller again. “You two need anything? You want me to take the Icee, or—check out this cool thing…”
He pulls a small tray-like thing out of the wall. He does something to lock it into place, and he says, “Cupholder. If you need.”
“Thanks, V.”
He smiles. “Any time.” He ruffles my hair, and it doesn’t bother me to be touched unexpectedly by someone who’s not Josh. I trust him, so it actually feels a little good.
“Just text me if you need us, okay?” he says.
When Vance leaves, I check my phone, finding that there’s been some speculation about the identity of the person who ran out on the field to be with me, and that the Fairplay newspaper is reporting him as my stepbrother. Hmm, okay, so I’m not outed. But when I come out, I’ll have to out myself as being in love with my stepbrother. I guess I can handle that.
I’ve got both arms locked around my sleeping Miller when Luke walks into the room. He comes to stand down at the foot of the plane bed, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You feeling okay?”
I nod. “Ankle’s sore, but V gave me some stuff for it.”
“That’s good.”
I’m a little surprised when he sits down on the edge of the mattress. “You tired?” He glances at his watch. “We’ve still got an hour till we land, if you want to catch some more Zs. If it gets bumpy, we’ll check on you.”
“I’m not that tired. Not till that pill hits.” I laugh. “Then I’ll be out.”
“Ezra.” His eyes find mine, and my heart misses a beat. “I came back here because I want to talk to you about something. If you’re up for it.”
I try to keep my face neutral as I nod. “I’m up for it.”
His lips press together. “It’s…about Alton.”
My pulse fucking soars—so much I feel the blood whoosh in my head—and I glance down at Miller. I think of telling Luke that we should wait, but then I reconsider. If Mills wakes up, so what? It’s not like I’m going to keep this shit a secret from him anyway.
I nod at Luke. “You can tell me.”
He blows out a long breath. “I’m sorry for the timing. Just, things are moving faster than I realized with this. I wanted to let you know as soon as I could.”
My stomach does a roller coaster flip, which makes me feel a little pukey. “What do you mean?”
“To be honest, I’m a little nervous about sharing this. When we first started, it didn’t occur to me that you might have objections, but…” He gives a shake of his head. “Ezra, we’ve been working behind the scenes to get the so-called Alton ‘Academy’ shut down. Evermore has been. Now we’re…getting close to success.” He blinks at me, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod so he’ll continue.
“We have someone on staff—a younger guy. I didn’t know his history until we started bullet pointing things we wanted the Rainbow Initiative to cover…but it turns out, this guy had been somewhere…not dissimilar. When he found out about Alton in particular, he wanted to go. You know, infiltrate. Naturally, we said no way. He didn’t look the part” —Luke waves his hand— “but anyway. As it happens, this guy is on our IT staff. Tech savvy. So what he did instead was access Alton’s camera network.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach.
Luke lets out a long breath. “We’ve been watching since early September. It took time for our guy to access all the cameras, but we’ve had what we think is all the different cams, from all of the cameras, since October. What’s there is…pretty incriminating,” he says softly. “It’s been hard for us to watch.”
My throat aches, and he gives me a sympathetic look that makes tears prickle my eyes.
“Now we’re working with attorneys and some other consultants. We’re preparing to sue Alton and its administration on behalf of some of the victims. There’s another team from the church in charge of reaching out to them, but we’ve already been in touch with some. And one of them is your…is Riley.”
That name hits me like a kick to the chest. I guess I flinch, because Miller stirs and Luke’s eyes widen slightly.
“Fuck,” I murmur. And then, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. How do you feel? The major reason I’m mentioning it, other than an obligation I feel to keep you informed, is that when we file suit, we’ll be turning what evidence we have over to law enforcement. We’re already laying that groundwork. There’s a good chance the place will be shut down, or the ones in charge will shut it down and try to go underground. At the same time, we have two people in Congress who are working with us on initiatives to outlaw these practices entirely.”
He blows another breath out, and I realize he looks unhappy. I don’t know why, but seeing Luke McDowell look defeated makes me feel a wave of sadness.
“Sorry,” I say, awkward and soft. “If it’s making you feel triggered or something.”
“I don’t feel triggered,” he says. “I feel disappointed. Powerless—although we’re not. And I feel—” He exhales, ruffling a hand back through his blond hair. “For the people who have been to these places. At its root, this is the church’s failing. And I’m part of the church.”
So he’s saying he feels guilty?
“It’s not your fault.”
“You don’t have to reassure me, Ezra. I’m okay. How do you feel?”
Tears fill my eyes. I try not to blink so they don’t fall. I’m fucking tired of crying.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I…don’t know. I’m glad you’re doing it. I want to add my name to the suit.”
Hesitation flickers over his face. “You don’t have to decide today.”
“No. I want to. Have to. I should have done more sooner. I—”
He’s shaking his head. He gives a soft laugh. “You did. You came and you told me—someone who could do something about it. Our new program needed an agenda. You helped give us one. Because you were brave enough to seek me out, you’re gonna be what gets them shut down.”
I take a deep breath, and then another one. That can’t be true. But he’s smiling at me like he’s proud. I feel my ears tingle with heat.
“Okay. Well…I’m in,” I say. “I’m sure I want to do it.”
“You should take some time to think about it. You pushed over the first domino. That can be enough.”
I shake my head. “Not for me.”
“We can talk about it more. Whatever you want,” he adds.
My stomach does a slow roll as I think of everybody finding out I went to Alton. But at the same time, there’s a part of me that doesn’t care. What could be worse than…Alton.
“One more thing,” Luke tells me. “I did some digging on the guy you mentioned—Paul. I have an update on him, if you want it.”
“I want it.” I clench my jaw, and Luke says, “He’s not working there now. And I don’t think he has since you attended. The program was founded by his father. He was one of the first participants. After what happened when you were there—”
“The stroke?” I rasp.
He nods. “After the stroke, he had some issues. In any event, he hasn’t worked since. Still collects pay, but doesn’t work. It’s being run by a man named Richard Derby right now. Kids are still…going through the events that you told us about. But no one’s being locked up like you were. We haven’t seen employees…infringing on the kids.”
“So they’re just doing all the porn stuff, still, and making the kids get with one another?”
He nods once, his mouth tight. His face gentles. “We’ll run a support group for survivors of Alton and a few other places we’re doing the same thing with—trying to get them shut down. We’ll offer services and a few retreats at Evermore. All free of cost, of course.”
“I want to help. I could…I don’t know. Give input or something. Talk to others…like me. You know.”
“Other survivors?” he says.
I nod, feeling weird about that word. “Yeah, if you want me to.”
“Just think about it,” he says. He holds my eyes, and mine well up.
“I’m proud of you,” Luke tells me. “If you decide you don’t want to be on the suit, I’ll still be the same proud.”
“Like a dad?” I joke.
He gives me a look of warning. “Like a much older brother.”
Josh stirs against me, and Luke gives me a winky smile. “I’ll keep you as updated as you want. We’ll talk more. V and I will be in Tuscaloosa for a little while. And Eden.”
“What are you doing there?” I ask, tracing a seam of the blanket with my fingertip.
Luke grins. “We thought we’d get a condo down there. Maybe get some season tickets. There’s this guy who plays there, Ezra Masters…” He shrugs. “Heard he’s something to see.”
Double Overtime
One
Ezra
The only Friday in February that the New York Times reporter is available, and so am I, turns out to be Valentine’s Day. Someone from Luke’s church set the thing up—with a writer that they know. So Luke offered to fly Josh and me to New York. But the reporter insisted on coming down to Tuscaloosa. He wanted to do the interview in my dorm room, but I’m not up for that. Anyway, I hardly even live there now. I’m Miller’s live-in house husband.
Somehow in the last month, our schedules have done a role reversal. Mills hit the ground running when spring semester started here at University of Alabama. He got himself enrolled in concert band and involved in intramural soccer, so as soon as classes started, he got busy as fuck. I, on the other hand, have been driving the Jeep from building to building, crutching my way to classes, and spending lots of time finding my groove with Netflix.
Even right now, Mills is finishing a cello practice, and I’m here at his—our—place, setting up his V-Day stuff and waiting on the reporter. If things go the way I think, Mills will get here an hour and a half before Dirk the reporter arrives. Mills knows about the deal and is prepared, but being welcomed in by two guys instead of one might be a shock to Dirk. Luke hasn’t told the guy I’m gay. But I know Dirk is, so I’m hoping it’ll work out.
I’m laying long-stemmed roses on the pillows of our queen-sized bed when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket, feeling a little breathless, but it’s Miller and not Dirk.
“Heya, Mills.”
“Hey, angel. Whatcha up to?”
I let out a faux sigh. “Just waiting on my boyfriend. Nah, just kidding. Well, I am waiting, but it’s all good. How was practice?”
“It was pretty good,” Josh says. “Working with two girls and a guy in a quartet. Just messing around.”
I can hear the excitement in his voice, though, and it makes my chest go warm and fuzzy as I sit on the bed’s edge. I lie on my back, dangling my legs off the side.
“You gonna play for me this weekend?” I murmur into the phone.
“Oh yeah. I need to practice. You’ll be tired after Greeley and the gym on Saturday. So I’ll have a captive audience.”
That makes me chuckle. “Since when do I need to be tired to hear you play that good shit?”
He knows it’s true. I’m Josh Miller’s biggest fan. He claims it’s just the inherent beauty of cello, I’d be captivated by anyone playing it, but we both know that’s not true. It’s his fingers I want to see moving along the fingerboard. I want to see his eyes close as he plays for me, his foot tap gently on the floor. After he’s done, I wanna kiss his neck and ruffle up his dark hair.
I laugh. “I’m getting hard thinking about you with that cello.”
“You filthy auralist.”
I rub my hand over my boner, shaking my head with my eyes closed. “Someone who gets it up for music?”
“Yup,” he confirms.
“I’m a Millerist. Remember what happens when I sit on the sidelines at your soccer?”
Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Yeah, I think you’ve gotta wear a jock strap next time.”
Fuck, and now I’m harder. “I could be convinced to do that for you.”
“Shit, dude,” Mills says. “When is this Times guy coming? I want to blow you when I get home.”
“Dude! How is that helpful? What if he shows up right now when I’ve got a monster boner.”
“Luke said his plane was landing at 11:30 in Atlanta. It’s not even 2 yet, and he’s gotta drive from there to here. And don’t call my favorite dick a monster. He’s XL, and that’s A-okay.”
I start pumping myself through my basketball shorts. “Mills?” I whisper. “Can you hurry?”
“I’m about two minutes away. You want me to jog? I’ll do it.”
I laugh, and he says, “Now, don’t be coming, Ezra. Hold out for my mouth. Why use your hand when you can use me?”
Ohhhh fuck. “You’re not helping.”
The doorbell rings. My stomach drops. “What the—”
“Dude, lemme in,” he rasps through the phone. “I’m tenting my pants out here!”
“Dammn, boy. You don’t even sound breathless.”
“Soccer sprints, baby.”
I pull the door open, and Mills is looking like a snack. He’s got on beat-up jeans, tented by his massive boner, and the same red and white Henley shirt he pulled on this morning. But he’s got flushed cheeks from the jog, and he’s giving me this lust-slack grin as he holds his cock.
“Masturbating on the walkway. Miller.” Mills laughs, and then he launches himself at me—full-on tackle with his arms around my neck and his face pressed against my shoulder. I think he forgot about my ankle, still in its boot.
“God, you smell good. And this Polo.” He nips at the collar of the hunter green shirt I have on, then at my throat.
“Hope you don’t mind me borrowing,” I tell him. “I wasn’t sure what to wear.”
“You look fucking lunchable, babe.”
Such a weird endearment—makes me laugh my ass off. I pull him inside and slam the door shut. “Miller, Miller, Miller…what a dirty boy, trying to rip a hole in those jeans you stole from my drawer…”
I end up on my knees, working his button undone and unzipping his fly. I end up sucking his dick in the foyer because I can’t help myself. Mills slides down the door. He’s gripping the back of my head as he comes, and then he’s kissing my mouth. He’s taking my hand, leading me into the bedroom, where he stops short, wide-eyed and then open-mouthed as he takes in more than a hundred roses covering our pillows.
“Ez. Holy shit.” Now he’s kissing me. He’s walking me backwards toward the bed’s edge, wrapping his hands around my elbows and holding tight so I don’t fall in my boot.
I ease down on my back, and Josh is crawling on top of me. He tickles my cheek and then my throat with a rose…and my lower abs. Then he works my pants down my hips, freeing my hard cock, and he gives one of the best blow jobs of my life so far. The kissing, licking, lapping at my cockhead, sucking—it’s all just right. He nudges my balls aside and hesitates, and I groan, “Please, Josh.” Once he’s got a finger in me, I can’t hold out for long. I come almost violently, going a little dizzy as he finishes and lays his cheek on my hip. And that’s how we’re posed when the doorbell rings.
Turns out nobody thought about the fact that 11:30 Atlanta time is 10:30 Alabama time. The reporter’s here an hour early.
“Fuck!” Mills laughs, looking panicked.
"Shit.” I shove my dick into my underwear and button my pants as he does the same. He hisses, “Tuck it down more,” and I do. I check him out. “You’re looking okay.”
“Because I’m hard as fuck and I just tucked it up into my pants waist,” Miller says.
We stand there gaping at each other. He laughs and straightens the bedding. Then he rubs a hand over the roses.
“Dude, this is beautiful. You did so good. Thank you.”
“Open the nightstand drawer, Millsy. If you’re that hard, sit in here, let it deflate, and eat some Fun Dip.”
“Wuhhh!”
I’m chuckling as Miller opens the drawer where I stashed his V-Day treats. The doorbell rings again, and I hug him, kissing his hair as he sits on the bed, grinning up at me.
