Chapter 3
E WAN
“Ewan Bard,” I bark at the woman in front of me. “I’m here to see my son, Ezra Andrew Bard.”
She stares at me, transfixed, and I don’t know whether to do a 'swinging-flashlight test' on her or simply call her supervisor and ask her to replace her.
“Ma’am?”
The girl––she can’t be more than twenty-three years old––blinks rapidly.
“Yes,” she says in response to what exactly? “Right away,” she goes on. “You said he was here.”
“I just talked to him.”
“Okay. I’ll find him for you.”
She does her best, still looking at me from time to time while two security guys witness everything from the waiting area.
This is not the time for a woman to be smitten with me and unable to do her job while I start a brawl with the security personnel.
So, I’m waiting patiently, although patience has never been my strong suit.
“I found him. Follow me, please,” she says and zips out of her seat, hugs closer the sweater she wears on top of her scrubs, and signals me to follow her down the corridor.
Good thing she didn’t see me roll my eyes.
She’s extra diligent with me now.
A few directions would have been sufficient. No need to lead me there.
“Can you wait here, sir?” she says, almost breaking her neck while peering up at me. “The doctor is in, and I’ll need to check with him first. I won’t be long.”
“Sure.”
I step away and wait next to a large window.
Once she vanishes inside, and I freeze in the corner, everything seems calmer, and I almost feel the relief in the air.
Soft voices converse inside.
The woman has kept her promise, so she exits the room followed by a doctor with a long name that is hard to pronounce.
I get his first name, though. Richard.
He tells me about himself, and I introduce myself, too, as we shake hands. The woman pulls away before he gives me the rundown on what happened.
“His helmet, gloves, and knee pads help attenuate the impact with the pavement. He was lucky in that regard. We’ll keep him another day for observation, and then he’ll most likely be released.”
Feeling relieved to hear that, I muster a smile for the doctor.
“Don’t be too harsh on him,” he says before we shake hands again. “I know how these things go,” he adds with a clipped grin before walking away.
The corridor gets quiet again, and I take a long breath and push the door open, ready to chew his butt off.
The room is serene and dimly lit, with soft music playing in the background. The bed is empty, the covers crumpled, and a bright light glows in the bathroom, catching my attention. Their voices ring behind the door.
A second passes, and the door opens before the woman chuckles and walks in with a tall man who has his arm curled around her shoulders and leans on her.
I bite back a snark remark.
He’s a head taller than her, and he is muscular for a nineteen-year-old and has big bruises on his arm.
He can’t use his leg without limping.
The woman lifts her eyes, her laugh and grin completely dying when she sees me.
She’s not older then him. Where does he find them? And she is pretty with a mane of curly chestnut hair and big eyes rimmed with thick lashes.
Dread slides over her face. I imagine she’s learned about his father.
Ezra struggles to put his foot down, wincing and cursing under his breath.
“Move over,” I say and replace the woman, who quickly pulls away from him.
He doesn’t comment when I slide my arm around his back and help him get to the bed.
He slides onto the covers and reads the room quickly, moving his eyes from me to his friend.
I shift my eyes to her as well.
“Can you leave us alone for a moment? I need to talk to him.”
I reach inside my pocket.
“Here,” I say, handing her some cash. “Get a cup of coffee or something. I’ll be done with him shortly.”
She takes the cash and looks at Ezra as if asking for his permission to leave him in the room with me, his own father. What has the world come to?
Ezra leans back, making sure he doesn’t make sudden moves and relaxes against the pillows with a stoic expression on his face.
“You can go. And get me a plum juice. Or a grape one.”
She nods and exits the room, leaving behind traces of her sweet perfume.
I watch her vanish before I turn to him.
He already holds his hand up in protest.
“I don’t want to hear anything from you,” he says, the sweet voice he used with her replaced by a gruff one.
Like father, like son.
He can be the kindest man in the world when he wants to, but he can also be a pain in the ass. And he’s becoming worse as he gets older, which is a good thing in our world because the weak never survive.
Still, seeing him pressed into the pillows, with drugs lacing his blood so he doesn’t feel the pain, and a sweet woman as his crutch makes me push some pretty bad words back.
Trying to be the adult in the room, I give him the benefit of the doubt.
Let’s just say that adjusting to our new lives after Margot untimely death has come with some growing pains.
I plant my hands on my hips. “Tell me exactly what happened,” I demand.
Sighing, he tilts his head back and runs a bruised hand over his handsome face.
He inherited his mother’s features as well as my eyes, my cheekbones, and my jawline.
His hair is slightly wavy when he wears it long, as it is now.
And his hands are positively mine––strong and sculpted––only his are less calloused.
Between the two of us, he is more generous with his time and attention than I am.
I’m too rough, and unforgiving––I’ll be the first to admit it––but there’s a good nineteen years between us, and I’ve seen things he never had to see.
Moving his eyes to me, he finally speaks.
“Some idiot hit me at an intersection. He ran the red light, snagged me, tossed me to the ground, and vanished. Someone took a picture of his plate, and they got him.”
I tense up, recollecting I had run a red light on my way here.
“The cops did?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who he is?”
He gives me a chiding look.
“I don’t want more problems,” he says.
I lift my hand, and walk around his bed before sliding into the only chair in the room.
“No problems. I need to check him out and make sure it wasn’t intentional.”
He crosses his arms over his chest then winces and remembers his ribs are not in the best shape.
He slides his arms down.
“Why would anyone intentionally hit me?”
I lift an eyebrow at him.
“Is that even a question?”
He dismisses me with a gesture.
“Please don’t do anything. I’ll be fine. I’m sure you can get his name, but really, all I want is to be able to move on.”
A few seconds pass, his eyes evading mine.
“What happened in Colorado?” I ask thoughtfully.
He brings his focus to me.
“What do you mean?”
“You had a different woman over there.”
A soft smile tilts his lips.
“How do you know?”
I flash a grin.
“Who do you think I am, little fucker?”
“You had eyes on me.”
“Did I need to?”
He studies my face before crashing back and moving his eyes to the ceiling.
“Please don’t tell Amanda.”
“Who’s Amanda?”
He tips his eyes down and tilts his head toward the door, pointing behind me.
“Oh. She’s Amanda. What kind of sick game is this?” I ask with humor in my voice, although I’m serious. “This is not how I brought you up. Relying on women and holding back secrets.”
“It’s complicated,” he says.
“What is?”
The silence prolongs, so I continue.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble with women as much as I don’t want you with broken ribs. You need to make sense of this stuff, boy. Women should rely on you. Not the other way around. You want to fuck, fuck. But don’t lie to them.”
“I’m not lying to them. The person in Colorado didn’t work out.”
“The person in Colorado… What the fuck are you talking about? She didn’t work out for what?” I push out, unable to suppress a sneering grin. “You’re not looking to get married or anything, are you? You said you needed some time. You just finished school.”
The boarding school that is.
We both thought that being in a different environment, in an all-boys boarding school, would make things easier for him and provide him with more security and predictability in his life.
He loved being there. And then he said he wanted to get a taste of the real world––meaning women––and figure things out, seeing where he fit best.
I don’t want to pass on the responsibilities of a life of crime just yet. I don’t want to lose him. I still don’t know a lot about this new Ezra.
The boy who looks like a man, and makes his own mistakes.
A dark cloud moves over his face, veiling his eyes.
It’s only fair to say he no longer has a great role model in me.
Why would he want a family, when his own has been destroyed? Plus, he’s too young to commit himself to something so serious.
“Ezra?”
“It was a play of words,” he says, and I feel him shutting down, so I calibrate my voice and try again.
“You can’t just tell me you are ready to settle down.”
“I’m not,” he says and slides lower and rolls to his side.
He must’ve forgotten it was his injured side so he grimaces again and moves to his back.
“Are the painkillers working?”
“Yes. I’m numb. And I’m getting sleepy now,” he says to push me away, despite how valid his claim is.
I lean closer and touch his arm.
“Listen…” I say in a softer voice. “I don’t want to be hard on you.
I know you’re trying some things out. They don’t always work…
I get it. But moving from one woman to another won’t get you far in this life.
As much as settling down with the first woman you have sex with won’t be the answer you are seeking. ”
“You settled down with Mom,” he says, his eyes offering a rare display of emotion.
I draw in a slow, bothered breath.
“Yes, I did. And it was the right thing to do. I don’t regret it. Not for a second. But there’s more to life, as you can see. Bad things can happen and rip away everything you hold dear. Nothing prepares you for that.”
“What are you saying?”
I ponder my answer, trying to avoid something that I might later regret.