“Admittedly, I should seek out therapy, too,” I confess after a while.
“You think so?” Ezra asks.
“Yeah,” I say. I take a deep breath and hold it. Ezra’s been so honest with me, I feel I should respond in kind. It’s only fair, to lay bare my emotions. “I . . . I’ve bottled all these feelings for so long, I don’t know what to do with them. I . . . don’t know how to let them go.”
Ezra sits on the forgotten chair and scoots it close to the bed. He takes my hand with both of his, waiting for me to say what’s been boiling inside me for far too long.
“Growing up . . . I always felt the need to suppress what I was feeling. It didn’t help that my parents were constantly fighting—getting at each other’s throats. When my . . . when mydadwould leave days at a time, I’d take those isolated periods to comfort Mom and do my best to make her proud—at school, with extracurriculars, with friends, and helping out around the church. Which, you know, is why I never told her about wanting to change schools, for wanting to follow you wherever you decided to go or travel to in the future . . . because Iknewwherever you applied for, you’d get in. You’re insanely talented and I wanted to prove to myself I was worthy of that.”
“Conin—”
“It’s true, Ez.”
He leans into me. My heart flutters.
“But eventually, when they divorced, my mom and I put a lot more time and effort into church—attending every meeting and providing our due diligence in whatever act of service they assigned us to. Some women in the Relief Society started to passive-aggressively prod her over the divorce. Even the bishop expressed he wasn’t a fan of what they’d done and not-so-subtly told her she should’ve tried better, she should’ve forgiven my dad, and she should’ve prayed to God more so they could repair whatever had broken in their relationship.
“The thing is, my dad was a terrible person. And I know you know this. I can’t say he was as bad as Lukeman, but he was still extremely intolerable. He cheated on Mom. He stole some of her money so he could spend it on nice things for whatever woman he was hooking up with at the moment. And the LDS church said we should forgive him? After he made mine and my mom’s life a living hell? Fuck no! So, we left. I comforted Mom. I continued to suppress my feelings so she wouldn’t know how badly I was struggling inside.
“Eventually it became the easiest thing in the world—to lie, to forget, to bury my emotions so deep down that they could never see the light of day. All the guys on the football team started looking at me differently—all our friends did as well since, you know, so many of them were in our ward. I never told Mom, but . . . I started to go back to Tuesday youth activities again to convince everyone I hadn’t left, that I still believed in their fucked-up religion . . . Through it all, Dan and Melissa helped me out the most. They understood when no one else would. Melissa’s fine, but Dan . . . I’m sorry. What he said about you was screwed up.”
I pause, take a deep breath. Ezra’s listening attentively. He hasn’t interrupted to ruin my flow. I grin at him gratefully.
“While all of this was happening, my feelings for you were wild. And we both know how the church feels about queer people. The only people I told before you were Mom and Melissa. Melissa was finally the person to make me realize why the church was so screwed up. I’d tell her about you. She made me understand that the way your family was treated, the way you were treated . . . it wasn’t okay. That was only a part of my decision,” I tell him.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Ezra questions and he appears genuinely hurt.
There goes that guilt again. Relentless.
“Because you were going through so much. I didn’t want to burden you with any of my troubles. It didn’t seem fair, especially with . . . how brutal Lukeman and Thax were. And then—then I discovered about your special abilities and the Barclay Network, and coming clean just didn’t feel right anymore. It wasn’t the right time. Now that we’re here at Proctus, I feel safe enough to tell you. I feel you deserve to hear it from me now,” I answer.
“Thank you for telling me,” he says.
A tear streaks down his face. He kisses the back of my hand and leans his chin on it, gazing at me with those brilliant eyes of his.
“And thank you, for everything,” Ezra whispers so only I can hear. “We’re going to get better, you and I.”
“We are,” I say.
Ezra’s being brave. I admire the hell out of him for coming this far. He’s been through so much and the world was never kind, but he overcame the worst of his adversities. I never thought I’d see the day he would put this much trust in other people. I’ve seen his faith in the Angelics grow. I believe that means something. It has to.
We’re going to be okay. I know we are.
“You miss your mom,” Ezra states.
“I do. So much,” I choke.
“I miss her, too. But I know she’s alright. She has to be. She’s a very strong woman.”
And for the first time in a very, very long time, I cry.
Chapter 65
Conin
The nightmares aren’t as prolific anymore. I wake up peacefully rather than drenched in an excess of sweat, panting for dear life. The space next to me is empty of a body once there. I reach out to feel his lingering traces, the scent that reminds me so much of him. Ezra’s lying on his stomach at the far end of the bed, drool dripping from his mouth. He’s in nothing but his underwear, healed scars exposed, and hair spread out everywhere. I sit up, moving in search of my missing underwear discarded in the mess that litters the floor.
What can I say? Three men live in this tiny one-bedroom apartment together.
