by Lily White
No.
I would never hurt him.
Not after -
I relax my hands, and he grins to see it.
“If you’ve come here to make me feel like shit, then you’ve accomplished it. I have no plans to see you or Damon again, so you can leave now. Problem solved.”
He traps my chin with his fingers, his thumb rubbing over my lips in a tease of what we used to be.
“Unfortunately, that won’t do. And it’s not exactly what I’m thinking.”
I yank my face away from him and finally give ground. But I’m not stepping back because he’s won this fight, I’m doing it because I can’t be that close to him and think clearly.
It hurts too much.
And it’s too damn tempting.
Eventually, Ezra steps back as well to lean against my door. I don’t miss the fact he’s blocking the only exit, quietly holding me here as if it’s not intentional.
“I’ve been riding around all day deciding how exactly I wanted to cut you off.”
I laugh at that.
“Well, it’s simple, really. You turn your ass around, open my door, walk down the hall, exit through the front door, get on your bike, and then vroom vroom your way out of here.”
Flashing me another grin, he says, “That’s too easy. And running away without a word is more your style, not mine. I think you know you owe us all something, and I’d hate to let it go.”
Damn it.
“I never asked any of you assholes for a favor, so I -“
“This isn’t a price. But you still owe us. Me especially.” He pauses for a second, his voice softer. “And Damon.”
My heart thuds a painful beat. But I can’t claim to be surprised. I’ve known for the past few days it would come to this.
Still, I try to play stupid.
“For what?”
The only answer he gives me is the arch of his brow.
Tossing up my hands, I give up that tactic and turn to walk away.
My back is to him when I ask, “What do you want from me, Ezra?”
At first I think he’s not going to answer, the silence dragging on for so long that I have to fight to keep from looking at him. I wrap my arms around my body instead, close my eyes and remind myself to breathe.
“Six weeks.”
The words hit me like a runaway train, a flashback of high school shining way too bright at the end of a dark tunnel. I’m being run down by the memory of a shadowed room and an agreement that led to disaster.
“Six weeks of what?”
I can hear his footsteps approaching me, but I refuse to turn, refuse to meet a beguiling stare I know will trap me in place while stealing my ability to think.
When he traces the scar on my shoulder with the tip of his finger, my eyes clench tight as a shiver runs beneath my skin.
He doesn’t make this any easier when he kisses the scar, his soft lips like a brand against my flesh, hot and searing.
I pull my shoulder away, but he grabs my waist to hold me in place, his lips running down the length of the scar to kiss every inch of it, the tip of his tongue flicking out to tease my body.
He stops, but I can feel his breath against my shoulder blade.
“Six weeks of friendship only. You, Damon and me. Six weeks that Damon needs so that he doesn’t feel so empty anymore.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“Kissing me isn’t friendship.”
His voice is a deep note, a purr that is as frightening as it is seductive.
“You used to kiss my wounds a long time ago. It only seems fair I return the favor. Especially since I’m the reason you have this scar.”
In that case, he needs to rip me apart and keep going. There’s a wound on my heart he left, and a hundred scars on my soul that are all because of him.
If he were to kiss them all, he’d be trapped here for hours until every last one is found.
“It’s not a good idea,” I warn him, just like I warned about their present. “Both of you have been back for three years. Why, now, is this such a problem?”
Seconds pass, silent and pregnant with every possible answer he could give. It’s just like him to choose one that hurts me more than all the others.
“Because we were near you again. We remembered what this used to be. Even if you didn’t.”
I spin to face him then. “You told me we’re done. You said I broke my promise and -“
He presses a finger against my lips to shut me up and dips his head so we’re eye level.
I swear to God, that amber gaze of his is going to kill me one of these days. Just split me open right down the middle to leave me hollow and broken.
“This isn’t for me. It’s for Damon. As far as I’m concerned you can keep running away without a damn word. You can keep pretending that you don’t care. I thought Damon was full of shit this morning when he said we’re still in your head, but that’s not true, is it? Not that it matters to me. I’m doing this for him. I’d do anything for him.”
Fuck Ezra, I think. He says this is only for his brother, but I know him better than that.
Love doesn’t fade with pain and distance. If anything, it only makes the emotion stronger.
Rather than answering, I show him the truth in that by keeping my eyes locked to his while biting the tip of his finger.
Just as I thought, sparks erupt behind his eyes until there’s fire, the amber color now molten as his pupils dilate, and his lips slightly part.
I don’t have to touch him to know how tight his muscles are, how still his body is as he fights to keep from taking what we both know he wants.
With effort, he pulls his hand away, his voice rough as sandpaper when he says, “Not anymore, Em. You broke us when you walked away.”
He breaks me every day just by existing. But I don’t tell him that.
Hell, not just every day.
Every hour.
Every minute.
Every second.
“Six weeks,” he reminds me softly. “That’s it.”
I want to tell him no. Want to explain and argue and yell about how this isn’t a good idea. That it can only lead to more pain.
But I have a job to do. Another agreement I made that I have to follow through. What Ezra is suggesting will only make it easier.
“Fine. But you can’t be the only person making demands. I have one, too.”
A flicker of a grin as his eyes dance with mine.
“What’s your demand?”
Exhaling slowly, I attempt to balance myself, to calm my thoughts and will my heart to stop racing.
“For every week of friendship I give you and Damon, you’ll give me what I’ve always wanted.”
His shoulders tense, but curiosity rolls behind a pair of eyes that watch me constantly from all the shadowed places in my mind.
“And what’s that?”
“The truth,” I answer. “Six parts of it, at least. I want to know what was done to you and Damon on those weekends you were away.”
Instantly defensive, he bristles and glares at me, but I refuse to back down.
“Six parts. Six clues. I’m not asking for the full story. But just enough that I no longer feel left in the dark. One per week, Ezra. As part of our friendship.”
He doesn’t answer, so I push my argument a bit further and toss his words right back at him.
“For Damon,” I say. “That is, if it’s true you’ll do anything for him.”
“It’s not only my story to tell,” he growls, his eyes narrowing on me as he steps closer.
I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my chin in refusal to look away from his angry stare.
“Then tell me your parts and not his. That’s the agreement I’m willing to make with you.”
Fury flashes across his expression. If Ezra hates anything, it’s being cornered. But he surprises me when he laughs softly and shakes his head.
“Still a queen, I see. One who has
no concern about the dangers that snap at her feet.”
I have absolutely no idea what that means, but I’ll go with it.
“You have my offer. Take it or leave it.”
Refusing to tremble at the expression on his face, my thighs tighten together, a wave of heat rolling through me because I know that look all too well.
This man can’t decide whether to rip my head off or throw me down to fuck me, and that’s a bad way to start this friendship.
The energy surrounding him affects me just as much, my mouth going dry while wet heat blooms between my legs.
How will I survive six weeks of being this close to him without losing my sanity?
I take a step back to place distance between us because I can’t trust myself not to reach out and touch him.
One touch.
That’s all it would take for both of us to lose this battle to stay apart.
Six weeks of friendship.
I laugh at the lie.
If anything, it’ll be six weeks of soul-wrenching torture.
“Fine,” he barks, “I’ll tell you the parts that I can.”
Turning, Ezra marches to my door, angrily yanks it open and is halfway into the hallway when he pauses to glance back at me.
“I’ll see you this Friday.”
I blink my eyes. “I don’t remember making plans with you for Friday.”
“You just did,” he says with a grin. “It’s so good being friends again.”
“The best,” I snap, my gaze fighting his.
He doesn’t say another word, just walks down the hall and around a corner. I hear the front door slam in the distance as he lets himself out of the house.
My body gives out almost immediately, and I lie down on my bed and curl into a ball.
Six weeks of hurting myself.
Six weeks of lying.
And in that time while I’m not with them, I’ll be running a different game that neither of the twins can know about.
Ezra
It’s a familiar scent of oil and sweat in Priest’s shop, the high-pitched squeal of an impact wrench scraping my eardrums as I let myself in through a back door and stare at a mess of crushed metal.
Whistling loudly to be heard over the wrench, I lean back against a wall and watch Priest roll out from beneath another car on a lift, his chin nudging in my direction before he sits up on the creeper.
The garage is a hell of a lot bigger than most people realize, easily fitting ten cars. Every bay and lift is full as Priest’s guys prepare for a show Shane told me about a few weeks ago.
Priest pushes to his feet and walks over to me. After slapping my palm, he pulls the welding helmet he’s wearing from his head and drops it onto a large steel table beside us.
I angle my head toward the car closest to us that has seen far better days.
“What the hell happened there?”
Priest laughs, his shoulder length hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, his white shirt smeared with dirt and oil.
“I was told to make sure the car couldn’t be driven. Looks like it’s not going anywhere anytime soon to me.”
Laughter shakes my chest.
“Bit of an understatement, don’t you think? The only place that car is going ever again is a junkyard.”
I also realize whose car this is. I can’t believe the shit Tanner is doing to Luca. The poor girl should have run the instant she laid eyes on him. I mean, I get why he’s doing it, but the woman is being run through a gauntlet like nothing I’ve seen before.
Tanner is playing a long game, and if she ever asks me to help kick his ass for it, I’ll be happy to oblige. He and Gabe are two of the biggest dicks known to man.
“Hell yeah,” Priest laughs, proud of his work. “You should have seen the way I wrecked it. The damn car was bouncing off everything in sight, but I still walked away without a scratch. Reminded me of all the fun I used to have doing that shit years ago. I felt sorry for the chick that owned it, but I can’t stop cracking the fuck up about the look on Tanner’s face.”
I’m not surprised it was Priest who wrecked it. He’d worked as a stunt driver for several years and knew just how to total a car without killing himself in the process. After earning enough to buy his shop, he left the business to build custom bikes and restore old cars.
Priest jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “I caught it all on the security feed. Want to watch? Shane and I keep pausing it right when Tanner walks up because you can’t stop laughing when you see him.”
Actually...
“Yeah. Sounds like fun. Is Shane around?”
Priest grins and puts two heavily tattooed fingers to his lips to let out a shrill whistle.
“Shane! Your girlfriend’s here! Lay off that fucking car for a minute.”
The squeal of the impact wrench stops, and Shane pops up from the other side of a fully restored 1970 Chevelle. He nudges his chin in hello before dropping back down for a few seconds and coming around the front of the car.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he says as he approaches us. “Bet you’re pissed about the other night.”
It’s exactly why I’m here. After the drama yesterday with Luca’s apartment getting ransacked and Tanner losing his shit, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Shane about what happened at the bar.
Damon has been tightlipped about it, but he’s been in a bad place after the unanswered call from our dad.
“Yeah, you can say that.”
His lips stretch into a shit-eating grin. “You won’t be after I explain what happened.”
“There’s enough time for you bitches to talk about it later. For now, let’s show him the fucking brilliance of the shit we pulled on Tanner.”
Shane’s grin splits wider as he claps me on the shoulder.
“You have to see this. I swear, Tanner looks like he’s about to have a stroke. Priest’s going to print out the best shots of his face so I can have them blown up into posters to give all the guys for Christmas this year.”
Priest and Shane aren’t wrong.
After watching a car accident that would have sent any normal person to a hospital, the video of Tanner walking up with his eyes busting out of his head, a vein throbbing at his temple, and his neck so tight you can see both tendons, I’m having a hard time catching my breath from laughing.
“Wait, this is the best part,” Priest snorts. “He asked me what happened, and I told him the brakes gave out.”
All three of us crack up again to see Tanner’s face turn a bright shade of red just as Luca comes running up behind him.
Shane wipes a tear from his eye.
“It’s his fault for being such an arrogant dick that he didn’t know who you were.”
With a shake of his head, Priest stops the video.
“Maybe this will teach him to pull that stick out of his ass and pay attention to people. Would have saved him a lot of trouble.”
I can’t argue with him there. Tanner can be a good guy with the right people, but to most, he lives up to being called Treachery.
“Alright, well you two have fun gossiping like a bunch of schoolgirls. I have a bike to finish for the show on Friday.”
Nodding his head at Shane and me, Priest leaves the small office, and I cross my arms over my chest before locking my stare on Shane.
“Spill.”
He runs a hand through his hair and grins.
“There’s not much to tell. I took care of a problem we both saw at Mason’s engagement party. Unfortunately, it got a little out of hand.”
I should have guessed Shane would push that issue to the extreme. I swear this guy isn’t right in the head. Maybe his mom dropped him as a baby, or maybe it has more to do with being raised in our fucked-up families, but Shane doesn’t just dance to his own beat, he’s got his own marching band.
“What did you do to Paul?”
I’m almost afraid to hear Shane’s answer. Not that Paul doesn’t deserve what he got. If not fo
r him, Emily wouldn’t have that scar on her shoulder, and I wouldn’t have been the monster who put it there.
There’s a wicked glimmer in Shane’s eye, the side of his mouth tipping up into a smirk.
“I might have slept with his fiancée.”
Oh, fuck...
“And?”
Because I know him better than to leave it at that.
“Turnabout is fair play, Ezra. I also might have sent him video of it with her screaming out my name. But I can’t take credit for the idea. I was only tossing their bullshit back at them.”
Sighing to hear it, I cock a brow.
“Please tell me you didn’t break any laws pulling that shit.”
“Not a damn one,” he says, obvious pride in his expression. “She knew I was recording her. If you remember Hillary at all, she’s always been begging to end up with one of us. It just sucks for her it will never end up that way after the shit she pulled. Well, that, and she’s a raging, psychotic bitch.”
My brows crash together. Talk about taking one for the team.
“Hillary? From high school?”
Laughter shakes his shoulders.
“The one and only. Her and Paul got engaged a few months ago, and I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to take out both of them. Especially after the shit they pulled with Emily at the end of the year. After Paul saw the video, he called me, threatening to kick my ass for it. I told him where we were, but didn’t think he’d actually show. Damon and I were both surprised when Paul walked in with six of his buddies.”
I can’t be mad at Shane for it, not with how much I hate Hillary and Paul. If not for them, Damon and I wouldn’t have been arrested that night, and Emily wouldn’t have that scar on her shoulder.
“Just call it settled at this point. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than them.”
He nods his head, his voice losing every ounce of humor.
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with your dad suddenly resurfacing and reaching out to Damon, would it?”
Although Shane doesn’t know what happened to Damon and me - something nobody knows because Damon and I swore never to talk about it - he does know more than Emily.
He was there when dad showed up to take us off every other weekend, and he was there when we were carried back into the house at Yale barely able to walk on our own.