11
Ezra’s house was exactly as Mike remembered it, from the literal white picket fence to the lovingly-tended roses in the garden beds under the front windows. The same lawn that Ezra mowed once a week like a good son, his mom’s car unchanged since the last time he’d been here.
He stood on the sidewalk and looked at it for long moments, stomach tight. Running away on Ezra last night hadn’t been fair, but the thought of facing him again…
Mike knew he had to apologize. It was coming up with the right words that he was having trouble with.
All the same, it was either man up, knock on the door, and tell Ezra he was sorry for… everything, or lose him all over again. Right after he’d promised himself they’d stay friends this time. It wasn’t as though Mike had so many friends that he could afford to just walk away from them.
Most of all, none of this was Ezra’sfault. He’d just been going along with something Mike had dragged him into, and then Mike had gone andkissedhim, like an asshole.
Taking a deep breath, Mike took a step onto the path that led up to the front door, the stones crunching under his feet. Ezra’s mom was proud of her yard—they grew their own produce in the back, Mike remembered. One summer, he’d been here picking Ezra up when his car had broken down for what seemed like the hundredth time, and she’d produced a strawberry pie that Mike had thought about for years after. Perfect buttery pastry, just the right balance of sweet and tart, and the freshest strawberries he’d ever eaten in his life.
It wasn’t much of a surprise that Ezra still lived with his mom. For that kind of baking, Mike would have been tempted to stay home, too. Even if his parents were a little harder to get along with.
He got as far as raising his hand to knock on the door before it opened right in front of him, Ezra’s mom standing on the other side in a coat and scarf, her handbag slung over her shoulder.
“Mike,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Crap. Ezra hadtoldher.
Or at least, if he hadn’t told her, she knew something had gone wrong.
“I expected to see you last night when you dropped Ezra off again,” she said.
Mike swallowed.
Mrs. Cardiel was a kind woman, warm and smart and funny, and she’d always welcomed Mike into her home, but he also understood why she was being protective. He had no doubt he’d hurt Ezra yesterday.
Sorryprobably wasn’t going to cut it. He owed Ezra more than that, and he would have understood if Ezra didn’t want to hear it.
But he had to try, or he’d never be able to live with himself again.
“Yeah, umm. I, uh…”
“Didn’t drop him off,” Mrs. Cardiel interrupted. “He was upset.”
Mike looked down at his shoes, ashamed of himself. Ezra deserved better. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I don’t think I’m the one you need to apologize to,” she responded, sighing.
“Let him in, Mom,” Ezra’s voice came from the top of the stairs. The creaked under him, like they always had, as he took a few steps down them.
Mrs. Cardiel stepped aside, giving Mike room to slip into the house past her.
“I’m heading out,” she said. “You two better have kissed and made up by the time I get back.”
A blush made Mike’s face hot, Mrs. Cardiel’s phrasing leaving him even more embarrassed and unsure than he had been a moment ago. But he couldn’t walk away now. Ezra deserved better than that.
“Bye, Mom,” Ezra said. “We’ll be good.”
“Good boys.” She grabbed her keys from the little stand to the side of the door, letting them jingle in her hand. “Text me if Mike’s staying for dinner so I can pick something up on the way home.”
“I will,” Ezra promised.
They both waited in silence as Mrs. Cardiel left, waiting to hear the sound of the car door slamming shut. Then, finally, Mike looked up at Ezra.
“Come upstairs,” he said, taking a step back up them.
