“I walked into a tree.” It’s not so far from the truth. I’m a fucking liability for everybody around me. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
“For troubling you?” Maybeannoyingis too strong. I confuse him. I don’t know why, but I do. It’s in every head tilt and frown, every jaw flex and grind of his teeth.
“No trouble.” His firm statement makes me gasp. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but instead, he nods once. Then he gestures for me to lead the way to the kitchen. He follows close enough for me to feel the heat coming off his body. I don’t quicken my stride; if anything, I slow down to continue breathing his rich scent deeply into my lungs.
“Take that when you go back to the dorm.” He points at the bag on the floor at the end of the hallway.
“What’s inside?” I ask, halting my steps.
“A mug heater,” he tells me, stopping near me.
A mug heater? I turn toward him.Did he buy it for me?
“Ezra.” As I utter his name, his nostrils flare and his eyes fall on my lips, reminding me of a hungry wolf.
Is he…? My brother’s shrill voice coming from behind me stops the words inside my throat. “What’s going on?”
I spin on my heels and nearly trip over my feet—classic me. Ezra clamps his arm around my waist again, from behind this time, plastering me to his front. The upper curve of my ass bumps intosomething. A bulge. A big, thick one. I don’t think my face will return to its natural paleness ever again.
My shocked eyes find Ollie’s narrowed ones. He looks pissed for some reason.
“The steaks are ready. What are you doing here?” He’s glaring but not at me.
“We were on our way out when you scared the hell out of me,” I retort a bit too strongly, but I’m trying very hard to forget about theprotuberancepoking my lower back. Am I sweating? I feel hot. So hot.
“Why do you keep standing there?” Ollie’s gaze falls on Ezra’s arm. I could get used to its weight, the reassuring solidity around my body.
“You are in the way.” Ezra’s tone has a hint of hostility to it.
Something must have happened between these two. When Lori asked Ollie about his beef with the psycho, was he talking about Ezra? Something must have definitely happened between them. Or between Rague and Ezra perhaps? Ollie turns berserk if anybody disrespects his husband, but Rague doesn’t seem angry at him, only wary.
“I have a hell of a reason to be,” my brother hisses back.
“Hell is right,” Ezra counters back, cold as ice.
I feel like they are talking about completely different things. Before I can say anything, Rague interjects with a final, cavernous tone, “That’s enough. Let’s go eat.”
Ollie grabs my hand and pulls. For a moment, Ezra’s arm tightens around me before it falls to his side.
While my brother drags me away, I can’t help but turn my head back and give him a last look. Ezra hasn’t moved from his spot, fist clenched, muscles tense. His eyes nearly glow as they follow me until I step outside.
What the hell is going on?
I wake up with a jolt. My mouth is wide open, but no scream comes out. Shards of anxiety pierce through my chest. I look down at my hands, no blood, no bruises, no bandage. It was just a nightmare. I’m in my dorm room. I’m okay. I’m okay.
I can hear myself panting, the dark images still vivid in my head. I blindly find the tube of pills near my bed, and I swallow one hurriedly. My flickering eyes fall on the window, and I glimpse something moving outside among the leaves. A flash of white.
I fumble until I find the lamp switch on the wall. The light blinds me for a moment. I grab my glasses and crawl on the bed until I reach the window to get a better look at the tree. But I don’t see anything among the branches. It’s too dark, and the foliage forms hidden shadows. My hands grab the sill as I focus my gaze on the ground. I’m on the third floor. It’s a long way down. It must have been a bird. A nighthawk, perhaps?
I rescued one a couple of months ago. His wing was broken, and I took it to the animal shelter and nursed him back to health. Watching it flying away was deeply satisfying. Did he come back to say hi?
I let out a long breath and slide my glasses up to stroke my eyes, before letting them drop back down. It’s past midnight. I should go back to sleep, but I know there’s no use. Having nightmares about that day is a rare occurrence, but when it happens, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I ask Alexa to play my country music playlist as I decide to work through a list of menial tasks to kill time until morning comes. When I’m done, I try studying, but my brain doesn’t cooperate. My eyes keep falling on the mug heater on my nightstand and the memory of Ezra’s eyes on me. I’m still so confused by his behavior, too tense. I need to relax. My knee hits the side of the desk, and that’s when I remember Lori’s box, the one he snuck in when he came to visit last week.
Before my mind even has time to form the idea, my hand is already pulling the drawer open. I grab the small black box and place it on the desk. The picture of a gray oval-shaped butt plug makes my fingers tremble with anticipation as I lift the lid. There’s a message inside.
