Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Autumn
“Let me make you some cider,” Ezra says, walking me over and sitting me on my couch.
“Stop it,” I tell him. “Stop fussing. I’m not injured. I’m not hurt. You—” My eyes flutter up to his, bent and hovering over me. “You were the one attacked.” Like a nightmare come to life, there was Mav, ready to hurt Ezra all over again. Like time hadn’t passed at all.
His brows knit. “Not attacked.”
My throat aches with a swallow and I lift a hand to his face, where Mav made his mark. “You’re bleeding, Ezra.” Tears well in my dumb eyes again. They won’t stop. “You’re bleeding because he got near you again.”
“I’m fine.”
I cup my hand to his cheek and run my thumb just below his eye and over his still-bleeding cut. Ezra may not realize it, but he’s got a string of blood running down his cheek. He winces with my touch and I let my hand fall back into my lap, wiping the blood on my finger onto the thigh of my jeans.
“Hey,” he says, attempting to erase what I’ve done. “That’ll stain.”
A sad scoff falls from my lips. Mav has stained so many things. “It will.”
“Autumn—”
“You can’t stay here,” I blurt. I was right before—all along. He can’t stay here. Not with Mav. “It’ll just happen again.”
“I don’t care if it does.” He stands, the words ripping from his mouth.
“I do,” I say, my voice so much stronger than before.
“ He won’t be the reason I do or don’t do anything.” He sounds strong and sure in this moment—and yet, I remember the boy Mav Bennett tortured just because he could.
I push up from the couch and charge back to my bathroom. I have a first aid kit back there. Ezra’s on my heels. “Sit,” I tell him, pointing to the toilet in my small bathroom.
He does, and with his obedience, I start my rant.
“He isn’t the reason you do anything?” I say, and Ezra is smart enough to keep quiet. I am talking and he is listening. “Well, guess what? He is the reason you’re bleeding. I didn’t see him give you much of a choice on that matter.”
I run a clean washcloth beneath the sink, dousing it in cold water, then press the cloth to Ezra’s cheek.
“Ow,” he grumbles.
I raise one brow—a silent, see?
I toss the cloth to the sink and rummage through my band-aid box. “He’s the reason I’m searching for butterfly bandages. He’s the reason your face is split open. He’s the—”
Ezra’s hand comes up to calm my own. “Autumn.”
A tremoring breath falls from my chest. “I’ve always known you can’t stay here. We were just kidding ourselves.”
“You’re giving him control. Don’t do that.”
I blink back the tears blinding my vision and place two small butterfly bandages over Ezra’s cut. He watches me. Like a magnifying glass in the sun, his eyes focus on me, creating an unnatural warmth over my limbs .
“How can I not?” I take one step back, inspecting my work and the bruise that’s already forming beneath Ezra’s eye.
“Autumn,” Ezra says, those burning eyes still scorching into me. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry—not for him.” I never knew of the guilt Ezra took on himself, not until Phil mentioned it. I don’t want him feeling guilty.
“Let me finish.” He weaves his fingers through mine and I’m not strong enough to refuse them. “All this time, I knew I needed help. I got it, too. I can honestly say I’ve recovered from the trauma that Mav put me through. But I never realized how he traumatized you.” He peers at our knotted hands, pulling my fingers to his lips and kissing them. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that before.”