“You’re dating Ezra Johnson, right?”
Megan’s question caught me off-guard, and I glanced sideways at her from where I was chopping lemons at the beverage station.
How did she know that? She was a senior at the university and the most reliable employee at Rocky’s. From our limited interaction here, that was all I knew about her. We were always so busy we never had time to chat, and I was sure I’d never mentioned my love life.
Reading my confusion, she shrugged. “He’s pledging Pi Kap.”
Of course. I almost forgot that every girl on campus was drooling over him and that fraternity.
“That’s right,” I answered tightly.
Flipping her dark ponytail, she sighed. “Lucky girl. He’s so yummy.”
Trying to ignore the uneasy feeling her statement gave me, I chopped the lemons harder.
I probably should’ve been flattered by what she said, but uneasiness quickly morphed into anger. Would she have said the same thing about him three months ago? Where were all these people when Ezra was in high school? No one gave him the time of day, just because he wasn’t the picture-perfect guy. Now that he fit the mold, everyone seemed to want a piece of him.
It was so… superficial. And annoying. And wrong.
Oblivious to my stewing, Megan collected her tray of waters, plopping lemon slices in each one. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for being cool.” I looked over to see a sincere smile on her face. “You’ve seriously saved my ass here so many times by covering for all the no-shows.”
My grip softened on the knife. “It’s no problem. I’m glad for the extra money.”
With a nod, she left. Her compliment made me feel a little better, but I was still in a pissy mood.
Since school started, it seemed like Ezra had spent more time with the frat than with me. Not like I could talk, though. I’d been spending just as much time, if not more, at work.
But that wasn’t why I was on edge.
Worried, I checked my phone before shoving it back into my pocket. Nothing from Ezra. No goodnight text from last night, and I hadn’t heard from him all morning.
That wouldn’t have been too concerning, except he was late for our lunch date.
I wanted him—needed him—to be here, but not just because I missed his handsome face.
This morning the private investigator called, saying he had information for me. I told him to meet me at the restaurant around noon. I’d been getting antsy over the past few days, because it’d been a week since I paid him. Most people in the forum said he was crazy fast—like he could have answers in a day or two sometimes.
The fact that my case took longer made me think something was wrong, and having someone to hold my hand through the meeting would be nice.
It was a big information dump to drop on Ezra without warning, and I was basically high-jacking our date, but having him here would make it easier if it was bad news.
I sent him a text.
Me: Hey, where are you? I’m waiting for you at Rocky’s.
Cleaning up the beverage station and closing out the last of the checks, I waited anxiously for his reply.
But when the clock read 11:59 and the man I recognized as Ethan Smith strolled through the door, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer.
Watching him take a seat, I stalled. I washed my hands and hung up my apron. Checked my phone one more time—still nothing. Then I got a coffee for him and a water for myself and slowly approached the table. I didn’t even know if he wanted coffee, but it seemed like the courteous thing to do.
I set our drinks down.
“Mr. Smith?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Miss Reynolds?” Nodding in return, I sank into the soft cushion of the window booth across from him.
Ethan Smith—if that was even his real name—wasn’t as old as I thought he’d be. He was probably in his late twenties, with brown hair and a clean-shaven face. The dark blue suit and glasses made him look professional, though.
“Let’s get right to business, shall we?” He leaned forward on his elbows, placing his hands over a white folder. “Your birth mother’s name was Melanie Barnes. She was born on December 7th, 1979.”
Damn, he sure didn’t waste any time.
As he spoke, I searched the sea of faces outside and the people coming in. None of them were who I wanted to see.
“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked patiently. “Moral support?”
I gave one last peek down at my phone. A blank screen stared back at me. I’d have to do this on my own; that was how I’d wanted it in the first place, right?
Giving Mr. Smith my full attention, I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Please continue.”
“She grew up in Wells, Montana, but for unknown reasons she didn’t graduate high school and left the state before she turned eighteen. The next trail picks up a few years later in Cleveland, Ohio, where she was arrested on prostitution charges.”
I barely held in my gasp.
“Someone bailed her out the next day, and she spent the following eight months at a women’s shelter in Cleveland until she gave birth to an infant girl—you—and chose the private closed adoption route, which you already know.” He shuffled some papers. “It seems that she didn’t plan it out ahead of time. She didn’t contact the agency until after your birth, but quickly decided on your adoptive parent, John Reynolds.”
“And Rob Walsh,” I added, because it didn’t feel right to leave him out.
Mr. Smith gave a small smile. “Yes. He became a second legal guardian in 2015. Were they together at the time of your adoption?”
“Yes. They didn’t hide that fact from the agency. I guess I’m curious as to why they were chosen. I really want to ask her—Melanie—why.”
His smile faltered, and he went back to the folder. “From there, the trail went cold for a few years. Ms. Barnes was arrested again on drug possession in 2008. After serving five months in prison, she returned to the same women’s shelter, but didn’t stay longer than a few weeks. She bounced around various homeless shelters and soup kitchens over the next several years until 2014.” A sympathetic expression passed over his face as he paused. “She was found deceased in an alley in Cleveland on January 14th, 2014.”
“Deceased,” I repeated the word, in shock.
He nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, but she passed away.”
“Passed away?” I parroted. It took me a few seconds to process it.
He’d said was. Her name was Melanie Barnes. As in, past tense.
Homeless. Prostitution. Drugs. Jail. Death.
My eyes stung and my nose burned. It was like he was telling me the saddest story ever written. Only this was real, and it was the story of the woman who’d given me life.
“You mean—” My breath hitched. “—she froze to death? Or she was sick? Or starving? Was she murdered?” The unthinkable questions tumbled from my mouth, each one just as bad as the last.
I thought about Paul. How he wandered the streets, unprotected and alone. Dirty clothes and unshaven face. Unwanted by society.
Then I pictured my faceless mother in his place. I’d never known her, but the thought of her dying, cold and hungry, was unbearable.
“All scenarios are possible, but it was ruled natural causes, so homicide is unlikely. As someone living on the streets for that many years and for the time of year it was, malnutrition or exposure to the elements could be a correct conclusion. I’m sorry. This is never the kind of news I wish to deliver.”
I was really wishing I had that moral support now. My hand clenched, wanting someone to hold it. Out of all the possible worst-case scenarios, this one had never crossed my mind. It’d never occurred to me that she was dead.
Didn’t want to see me? Yes. Couldn’t find her? Yes. But gone? No.
“Is there a gravesite I can visit?” I asked, my voice shaking from emotion.
“I’m sorry, but no. When the body of a homeless person goes unclaimed for more than thirty days at the city morgue, they’re often cremated.”
Letting out a sob, I broke down, quietly crying into my hands.
Mr. Smith gave me a minute, allowing me a moment to lose my shit. I sniffed and wiped at my cheeks as I tried to get myself under control, so we could finish our meeting.
A tissue appeared in front of me and he said, “You can take comfort in the fact that the shelter where she stayed for most of the pregnancy was a safehouse. She—”
“Like a place for abused women?” I interrupted him. “Or recovering drug addicts?”
Slowly, he nodded. “That’s not always the case, but yes, sometimes the women are recovering from domestic violence, trying to stay clean, or both. During her time there, she was well-fed, cared for, and sober. She was also very good about keeping up with the prenatal medical care. She stayed healthy for you.”
A big piece of the puzzle was still missing. “So, my father… he was abusive?”
“I wasn’t able to track down a father. There was none listed on the birth certificate. It’s possible he never knew about you, but the circumstances of your conception are undetermined. Some things only she could have answered.”
Meaning, I would never know. Because I couldn’t ask her. I couldn’t talk to her. Ever.
Conception. Undetermined. Such technical words for something so personal.
My father could’ve been violent. Maybe I was a product of prostitution. Or rape.
That made me feel dirty. If that was the case, no wonder she didn’t want me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. I should’ve left it alone. So many people in the forum had success stories, but others had warned me about this sort of thing—I just didn’t want to believe it would be my outcome.
“Thank you for your time,” I whispered shakily.
The folder he’d been sifting through slid to me across the table. “Everything I found is in here. May I suggest you take a few days to digest this news before going through it? Again, I’m sorry.”
After he disappeared through the double doors, I clutched the folder in my hands and stood on unsteady legs. I went to the break room to get my backpack. I was in the habit of bringing my books with me in case I had to go straight to class, and today I would need to rush if I wanted to make it on time.
I’d just made it past the kitchen when Megan was suddenly in front of me, looking genuinely concerned. “Hey, are you okay? Who was that guy?”
Unable to answer her around the lump in my throat, I just shook my head and left the restaurant as fast as I could. I was in such a hurry that I almost ran into someone on the sidewalk.
“I’m sorry—” I apologized, then looked up to see Shauna. “Oh, hey. I’d wait on you, but my shift just ended. And I’m kind of a mess right now.” I sniffled. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m actually not here to eat today. I was hoping to catch you, though. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Reaching out, she rubbed my shoulder and the physical contact was somewhat comforting.
It was so like her to try to save the day when someone was in distress. I didn’t feel like talking about my problems, but she seemed worried about me.
“Sure,” I relented.
Following her over to a nearby bus stop bench, we both sat down.
Her normally bright eyes held a hint of pain and her smile was forced. Nervous hands wrung together. “I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes followed something over my shoulder and I glanced behind me to find her watching Ethan Smith get into his SUV down the street.
“When he came around asking about Melanie a few weeks ago, I knew. It’s not the first time a PI has come sniffing around the shelter. Usually I don’t give them the time of day, considering the information about our residents is confidential, but with Melanie no longer living, there was only one reason he’d be asking—you.”
“I’m confused,” I told her. And I was. The information overload I’d just received was too much for my brain to comprehend.
“I knew your mother.”
My grief was temporarily forgotten. “You did?”
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, so I did a little investigating, too. I tracked you down. I told myself it would be enough to meet you, just once, then I’d let that man do his job. Maybe wait for you to come seek out more information on your own.” She shrugged guiltily. “But I couldn’t leave until I saw it through. You remind me of her. In the way you carry yourself. The way you smile.”
The lump in my throat had diminished to a dull ache and my heart was racing. “So, you’re not in town on business?”
“Oh, I am. That wasn’t a lie. There’s a soup kitchen on the outskirts of town and I’ve been helping them expand the place. They couldn’t figure out why I was sticking around for so long, but I didn’t want to leave until you got some answers.” She sighed. “When I saw you in there with him, I decided to wait for you out here. I have to admit I’m a bit ashamed of myself, because where I come from, we call that stalking.”
She handed me a business card with the words ‘Women’s Transitional Shelter of Cleveland’ on it. Shauna Franks, owner, was listed underneath.
I gasped. “You own the place where she stayed when she was pregnant with me?”
Smiling, she nodded. “I didn’t own it back then. Almost twenty years ago, I was a resident there myself. Melanie and I shared a room. I got to feel you kick a couple times. You used to keep her up at night with how much you danced on her bladder.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “Maybe you can tell me more than the private investigator.” I held up the folder. “Not much good news in here, I’m afraid.”
She squeezed my hand. “I’ll tell you as much as I can. Melanie and I became best friends in those months we lived together, but even then she kept me at arm’s length. Melanie was a mystery. She had a rough childhood and I suspected she’d been abused in one way or another. It must’ve been something bad for her to run away to a life on the streets like she did. But I’d never met a more upbeat person. Most days—her good days—she had a smile for everyone. On bad days, she kept to herself, like she didn’t want to poison anyone with her sadness.”
“Did she talk about the father?” I asked, hopeful for answers.
Her smile slipped away. “Never.”
“Oh.” I looked down. That wasn’t a great sign.
“Didn’t mean she loved you any less, though. When she came back from the hospital with you, she didn’t want to put you down. Several nights she stayed awake, rocking you and staring at you like you might disappear. Very reluctantly, she let me babysit five mornings in a row. She didn’t tell me where she was going, and I didn’t ask. Then one afternoon, she packed you up…” Trailing off, Shauna’s eyes got misty. “There was a determination on her face and tears in her eyes, and I knew she was leaving. I begged her to stay, but I didn’t see her again for several years. When she showed up again, you weren’t with her.”
“I got adopted by the best parents in the world.” I lifted my chin. “She did a good job.”
Relief settled over her face. “I figured that was the case.”
“Did she ever talk about me when she came around?”
“Only once. She never stayed for long. The last time I saw her—” She reached into her purse to pull out a weathered envelope. “—was about eight or nine years ago. She gave this to me and said if you ever came looking for her to let you have it.”
I took it from her. It was just a standard white envelope, no name written on it. “What’s in it?”
“Don’t know. I never looked.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice broke. “When I heard of Melanie’s death, it was one of the biggest tragedies of my life. In the years she’d been gone, I’d gotten my life straightened out and I was working at the shelter as an assistant. Back then, I thought I could fix everyone. But I couldn’t fix her.”
I nodded with understanding, wishing there was something I could give her in return for coming all the way here just for me. Wishing I could repay her for the kindness she’d shown my mother.
Then I realized I did have a gift for her.
“I have something for you. It isn’t much, and it’s kinda silly…” I dug into the front pocket of my backpack until my hands closed around the small sandwich baggie. Holding up the sparkly yellow lump, I shrugged. “It’s a pet rock. A friendship rock.”
“Did you make this?” She grinned as she took it from me.
“Yep. And here’s a card to go with it.” I gave her the small cardstock that simply had ‘You ROCK’ written on it.
“Adorable. You ever thought about selling these?”
“Actually, yeah. But I figured there wasn’t much money in it.”
“You know, something like this would be great for a fundraiser.” Her gaze bounced up to me with an excited glint in her eyes. “For the shelter, I mean. How hard would it be for you to make a couple hundred of these?”
“Not hard,” I replied. “I’d actually love to be a part of something like that.”
Shauna beamed. “You have my card. Stay in touch and we’ll set something up. And maybe after you’ve had some time to get over this, we can sit down and talk all about Melanie.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” I promised.
Awareness of the letter in my backpack made my footsteps quick as I hustled into my dorm room. The door slammed behind me, and I was so glad to find that I had the room to myself. Because I could feel the ugly cry coming on, and I needed to be alone for this part.
Curling up on my bed, I sat with my back against the wall and I pulled out the envelope.
My hands trembled as I slowly opened it, being careful not to tear the packaging. I was even more gentle with the tri-folded note inside. It was just an old piece of paper, but every part of it was precious to me, especially the neatly scrawled words.
My darling baby girl,
You’re about ten years old now. I find myself thinking about what you look like, what your favorite hobbies are, and how you’re doing in school. I wonder what your smile looks like on Christmas morning. What your laugh sounds like when someone tells a funny joke. What your little hand would feel like holding mine.
If there’s one thing I could tell you, it would be that I love you more than anything.
I love you, I love you, I love you. And I love you some more.
I’d planned on keeping you, come hell or high water, but as soon as I saw your innocent face, I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t tarnish you with my past or burden you with my present. I wasn’t sure if I could give you a future.
If providing love was enough to make us rich, we would’ve been the wealthiest pair in the world. But that isn’t the way this world works, and you deserve the best.
Although I haven’t experienced a lot of love in this life, I can still recognize it. I know what it looks like when I see it. When the agency showed me a file on two men wanting to adopt, I’ll be honest, I was surprised. It hadn’t occurred to me that your new family might be a little unconventional, but during the video, I saw two people who were madly in love and desperate for a family.
My vision blurred from tears.
I remembered the adoption video John and Rob had given the agency. They’d been completely transparent, showing all sides of their relationship. They were silly, affectionate, and honest. They even talked about the hard times, when they almost broke up after college and when Rob’s mom died. They spoke of the difficulty that came with being gay and the fears they had about never being given the chance to have children. And apparently, Melanie had been able to see something good in them.
Wiping my eyes, I went back to reading.
Family isn’t a one-size-fits-all. Love comes in many variations, shapes, sizes, colors, and faces. I knew as soon as I saw the file on the parents I chose for you. They were the ones.
Times when I get down, I just remind myself that I did something amazing. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. I don’t talk about you often, but it’s not because you’re a dirty little secret. I’m just selfish when it comes to you. You’re my precious, beautiful secret, and sometimes it feels like if I keep you all to myself, somehow it makes you more mine.
I’ve included a picture of us together. It’s the only picture I have of you, but I want you to have it. If or when you get this letter, and if you can find it in your heart to forgive me for giving you up… come find me. I’ll be waiting with open arms, longing to hold you once again.
All my love and then some more,
Mom
A giant tear made a wet plop on the paper, and I quickly dabbed it dry with my T-shirt. There were other old streaks in a couple places, running down through the penned sentences. When Melanie wrote this, she’d been crying, too.
How could she possibly think I wouldn’t forgive her? There was nothing to be sorry for in the first place. She gave me life. She made sure I had a good family to take care of me.
I wanted to tell her that.
But I’d never get to.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, I shook the envelope until the picture fell out onto my lap. It had obviously been through some hard times, the colors a bit faded and the corners ragged, but the image was still intact.
It was upside down, and I turned it slowly, careful not to smudge it with my fingerprints.
I studied the dark-haired woman in the hospital bed. Although she wasn’t smiling, she was beautiful. Kind brown eyes stared down at the blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Pink lips stood out against her olive-toned complexion. Her hair was something to be envious of—jet-black, sleek, and straight.
So I definitely didn’t get my hair from her. My skin was a little darker, but our facial features were similar. I could see myself in the structure of her cheekbones, the slope of her nose, and the soft point of her chin.
What stood out to me the most was the love-filled expression on her face.
And suddenly, I knew I was going to be okay.
In the span of an hour my life had changed, but I had no regrets. Later, I would let myself mourn for the woman who spent her days loving me until her body gave out.
Today, I just wanted to focus on the good stuff.
I was loved and wanted.
All those times anyone teased me for being adopted were suddenly erased. Their cruel words had been lies meant to hurt me, but now I held the truth in my hands.
I found myself smiling as I gently placed the priceless items back into the envelope, then I slipped it into the folder with the rest of the information the investigator gathered. Saving it for another day, I put the packet in my desk drawer.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to center my emotions as I picked up my phone. The first person I wanted to share the news with was Ezra. Not my parents, not Gavin.
But he still wasn’t answering my calls or texts, and I was starting to get really worried.
Frowning, I listened to the last ring before leaving a somewhat weepy voicemail. “Hey, please call me back. I have something really important to tell you.”
When I hung up, my eyes widened at the time on the screen.
“Shit,” I whispered, realizing I was missing my afternoon classes.
Oh, well. If there was ever a time to take a personal day, this was it.
And since I was already playing hooky anyway, I might as well try to find Ezra. He should’ve been home by now, and I didn’t even care if I was acting like a crazy girlfriend by hunting his ass down.
I was about to leave my dorm room when my phone rang. Thinking it was Ezra, I fumbled with it so spastically that I almost dropped it. Disappointment slammed through me when I saw Rocky’s number flash across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank God you answered,” he rushed out. “I know you already had a shift today, but can you come in again? One of the newbies didn’t show up, another called in sick, and Megan is getting run ragged. Her double is about to turn into a triple.”
I paused. Did I really want to work a second shift? No. But I’d already decided to skip class. I vaguely remembered Ezra saying he had another thing with the frat tonight, and I really didn’t feel like sitting around my dorm room alone on a Friday night.
Plus, Rocky sounded so desperate, and I’d developed a soft spot for the old man.
“Yeah, but there’s something I have to take care of first,” I told him. “When do you need me?”
“Whenever you can get here.” He sounded relieved. “And it only has to be for a couple hours.”
“Sure thing.”
I hung up and looked down at my uniform. Well, at least I was work-ready.
Not wanting to waste any time, I jogged to my car and pushed the speed limit as I drove the few blocks to Ezra’s apartment.
The windows were dark when I parked out front, so I couldn’t tell if he was home or not. Only one way to find out.
I decided not to knock. Using the key he’d given me, I let myself in.
“Hello? Ezra?”
Pierre greeted me, but he seemed anxious.
“What’s the matter, pup?” I tried to pet him, but he dodged my hand.
Taking my purse strap in his mouth, he started guiding me down the hall to the bedroom and a bad feeling came over me.
“Ezra?” My voice was high and panicky as I pushed the door open.
Leaning up on an elbow, Ezra blinked sleepily at me. The shades were drawn, making it difficult to see, but I could make out dark circles lining his eyes and his hair was messy with bedhead.
“You look like shit,” I blurted out. “Are you sick?”
“What time is it?” he rasped, his voice scratchy.
“It’s after two o’clock. Did you miss your morning classes?”
He nodded. “I guess so. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
Sitting down on the side of the bed, I put my hand to his forehead. He didn’t feel feverish, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t coming down with something.
He let out a cough, making a dry hacking sound.
My poor guy was sick. I didn’t like it, but a part of me was relieved. Now I understood why he hadn’t shown up for our date, and the knots in my stomach lessened.
Maybe this was what I needed to recover from the devastation I was feeling. Taking care of him would serve as a great distraction. I could just concentrate on helping him feel better, then I’d head off to work.
Dropping a kiss to his disheveled head, I promised myself I wouldn’t think about Melanie until tomorrow. My mind and my heart needed some distance before I could fully face it again.
“I’ll go make you something to eat,” I told Ezra, getting up from the bed before he could protest.
Once I was in the kitchen, I searched his cabinets for canned soup, but then I remembered he didn’t eat the processed stuff anymore. Fortunately, I found some frozen beef stew in the freezer.
I popped it into the microwave on defrost, then got out some crackers and searched the cabinet for some Tylenol.
I felt better already.
When I heard Ezra shuffle out to the kitchen, I glanced over my shoulder to see him leaning a hip against the counter.
“You weren’t answering your phone and I’ve been really worried about you,” I scolded, but it was hard to be mad about it when he looked so awful. “Go get back in bed.”
“I’m not sick.” Rubbing his eyes, he coughed again.
I huffed. “Tell that to your reflection.”
He tried to smile, but grimaced instead. “I need to sit down.”
On his way over to the couch, I noticed he could barely put weight on his leg and my concern came back full-force.
“Oh my God.” I rushed over to him, kneeling down to pull up his loose track pants. When I saw his leg, swollen and red, I gasped. “How did this happen? Did you fall again?”
“No.” Pressing his lips into a thin line, he glanced away. Although he didn’t blush, I knew that look. He was ashamed and there was something he wasn’t telling me.
“Hey, talk to me.” I rubbed his thigh. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone but…” Letting out a resigned sigh, words started tumbling out of his mouth in a hoarse whisper, spilling the details of what went on after I dropped him off at the frat house. When he told me what happened—the all-nighter in the basement, sitting on the floor, chanting, the hose—I was livid.
And it most definitely was not okay.
“And that’s why my leg is fucked up and why I’m so tired,” he finished. “I didn’t get home until five or so this morning, and I didn’t ice my leg like I should have. I just took a muscle relaxer and crashed.”
Rage caused my entire body to tremble as memories of Ezra being mistreated in high school flashed through my mind.
And now it was happening again.
Suddenly, puzzle pieces began falling into place. The knee injury last week, how exhausted he’d been on Sunday, and his vague explanations of what went on during their “meetings.”
“They’re hazing you?” I asked low.
His eyebrows pinched together. “No. It’s just a loyalty test. Everyone has to go through it to get in.”
My fists balled tight. “That’s called hazing, Ezra. Why would you participate in something like that?”
“I have to.”
“Like hell you do!”
Ezra flinched back at my shout, and I immediately felt bad. A flush bloomed over his face, but I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment, shame, or anger.
I wasn’t pissed at him—I was mad at those frat assholes. McAdams was a classy university. That kind of shit wasn’t supposed to happen here. At orientation, we’d been told there was a zero-tolerance policy on hazing.
Silence stretched over long seconds, and Ezra rubbed his temples. Pierre sat at his side, ears perked up at attention.
“Pierre, rapporte las eau,” I commanded softly, and the dog trotted off to the kitchen.
“Your French is way better than mine.” Ezra attempted a lighthearted tone, but the way his voice broke reminded me of the abuse he’d suffered all night.
“Don’t change the subject.”
Pierre came back with a bottle of water. I uncapped it and handed it to Ezra.
“Thanks.” He took a long drink.
“Why is this frat so important to you?” I questioned.
“Because it’s important to you.”
An exasperated noise left my gaping mouth. “Since when?”
“Since always? In high school, you were involved with all the best clubs and got invited to all the best parties.” He looked down. “I just wanted to be good for you.” Then he said the last thing I ever expected to come out of his mouth. “Are you jealous?”
My eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry, that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his head. “What I mean is, do you feel left out? Is that it? Because you have to know I’d never leave you behind. I’m doing this for both of us.”
“I never asked you to do this,” I shot back, offended. “If you want friends, that’s great. If you want to join a frat and party it up, I’ll stick by your side. But I would never want you to put yourself in danger for it.” Ezra didn’t look convinced, so I continued. “I don’t care about popularity. Not anymore. I’ve already been down the road of changing myself to be what I thought other people wanted. The truth is, you’re better than that. You’re better than me, and you’re better than these ridiculous tests—which is called hazing, by the way.”
Hanging his head, he didn’t respond.
“Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you in pain? Call me co-dependent, but I physically ache for you. When you hurt, I hurt.” The terrible day I’d had tipped me over the edge, and my words became choked with emotion. “And you were supposed to show up today for lunch and you didn’t. I needed you, and you weren’t there. And for what? Some stupid frat full of people who aren’t your friends?”
“Whoa.” Ezra suddenly seemed alert at the sight of my tears. “Baby, what’s wrong? This isn’t just about what’s going on here, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” I sobbed. “And I don’t even have time to talk about it now because I have to get to work.”
Pushing up off the couch, I slung my purse over my shoulder and headed for the door.
Ezra let out a pained grunt when he got up. “Can’t you call in?”
“No.”
Just as my hand landed on the doorknob, a warm hand gently grasped my forearm. “Please, Kayla. I told you what was going on with me, even though I didn’t want to. Talk to me.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I replied. Actually, that was a lie. I didn’t want to talk about it. I’d officially breached my emotional limit, and if I let it all out with Ezra now, I definitely wouldn’t be in any shape to go to Rocky’s. “Can I tell you later?”
“Okay,” Ezra whispered. He hugged me from behind, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Come back tonight after you’re done.”
“I thought you had a frat thing,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t go there again. Hoping he wouldn’t willingly put himself in a situation where he could get hurt. Ultimately, it was his decision.
“I’ll skip it,” he told me, and I blew out a relieved breath. “You’re more important. Please know that.”
Nodding, I swallowed hard, reveling in the safety of his arms. And before I could crumble into a weepy mess again, I left.