Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIOLET
“Did you get everything moved out of your place?” I ask, standing outside the room that Ezra will be staying in.
It’s an extra bedroom I have that was supposed to be a guest room or kid’s room when the time came.
Thank God the kid one never came. But I still never turned it into a guest room.
I put so much money towards my business I didn’t have any extra to buy spare bedroom furniture, and Zayn never cared about it.
Ezra bought a brand new mattress because he said there is no way in hell he was going to use the same bed he slept in with Rya.
The way he said it made me laugh because he sounded disgusted with her, but then I started thinking of myself.
I’m still sleeping in the same bed I shared with Zayn.
I bought new bedding and threw away the old one, but this was before I knew Ezra would be staying with me and helping with the mortgage.
So that’s the only new stuff I bought in case I needed the money.
“Yeah.” He sighs, dropping himself onto his mattress that sits on the floor. “I forgot how exhausting moving can be.”
I look over at him, and I can see the tiredness behind his eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t help you.”
His brows furrow. “No need to apologize. You were working.” He rolls his eyes. “Plus Rya was there,” he adds with a smug look.
“Oh.” My heart sinks a little. Out of jealousy? I can’t quite explain why. From his tone of voice, he didn’t seem too thrilled that she showed up. “I didn’t think she would be there.”
“She comes around trying to cry her way back in.”
I lean my body against the door frame, crossing my arms over my chest. “Does she know you’re moving in here?”
“I didn’t tell her where I was moving to. Only that I was, and I don’t think she felt like she could ask me where I was going.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “She didn’t follow you to see where you were going?”
“I haven’t seen her with her car. I don’t know what happened to it, and I didn’t care to ask.”
“Do you think she wrecked it?”
He shrugs, his mouth pulling to the side. “Who knows? I’m assuming she got a DUI, and it’s at the pound because she’s pretty drunk every time she’s come over.”
I raise my eyebrows in shock. “I’m surprised she hasn’t taken money out of your shared bank account for it.”
He lets out a dry laugh and leans his elbows on the bed. “The little amount she leaves us means there was hardly anything in there, and I already got a new bank account.”
I blink back my shock that he has already done this.
He seems so on top of everything, and it makes me wonder if he’s thought about all this before.
He put his business under his dad’s name, so there were at least some prior thoughts about it.
Thinking about the steps I would need to take to fully separate from Zayn sounds exhausting to me.
It makes sense when people let their partner take everything because they didn’t want to go through the fight of it all.
“She hasn’t asked you for money?”
“No. But she makes comments that she doesn’t know what she’s going to do without me because she has no job.” He scoffs and rolls his head back and then back up to meet my gaze. “Only goes to show I was only there for her financial benefit.”
Zay and I always had separate accounts. It always worked for us.
He paid half the bills, and I paid the other half.
I remember mentioning it once before if we should get one account, but he blew it off as why change something that’s not broke?
Made sense to me. Now I’m wondering if he thought I would take his money.
Even though I’ve always been one to make my own.
I never relied on him like Rya relied on Ez.
I’m thankful now it’s one less thing I have to worry about.
I’m startled awake, and my heart is racing when I see the light in the hallway shining through underneath my door. Until I remember Ez lives here now. For a moment, I thought someone had broken in. Or worse, it was Zayn. I reach for my phone, and it reads three in the morning.
What’s he doing up?
I swing my covers off and walk out to the hallway. I see him sitting on the stairs with his back hunched over and his head in his hands. “Ez,” I say softly, walking up behind him. “Are you okay?”
He raises his head and shifts his body. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
I squint down at him as he bounces his legs up and down. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he answers, his tone heavy with frustration, like he’s been through this one too many times.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” I tilt my head, looking further over onto his legs. “Did you hurt yourself?”
He shakes his head, turns back around and squeezes his calves with his hands.
I take a seat next to him. “What’s wrong?”
“I have restless leg syndrome. It won’t let me sleep,” he says in exhaustion.
I remember getting that when I was younger.
My mom would give me magnesium and rub my feet for me until I fell asleep.
It’s a pain to sleep when it kicks you out of bed and makes you wander the house late at night.
It’s a weird feeling because you want to sleep and relax, and you can’t.
It’s almost like an out-of-body experience.
Your legs force you to get up and move, or you lie there constantly moving your legs because you can’t stop.
“Have you taken anything?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“I’ll be back.”
A few minutes later, he comes into the kitchen and eyes the cup of magnesium I’m mixing for him. “What is that?”
“Magnesium. It should help you relax.” I hand him the cup. He eyes it before he takes it from me and drinks it.
When he’s done, I take the cup back and say, “Let’s go back to bed. I’ll massage your feet.”
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t have to do that. You should go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”
I grab his hand. “It’s fine. I know how it feels. I used to get this when I was younger. A massage does wonders.”
One side of his lip turns upward. “You’re okay with touching my feet?”
I giggle. “Yes, I’m okay with touching your feet.”
We both get upstairs, and he goes into his room, and I go into mine to grab a bottle of lotion.
When I walk back into his room, he’s sitting upright with his feet dangling off the side of the bed.
“Lay down.”
He eyes me like I’m crazy but scoots himself further onto the bed and rests his head on his pillow.
I turn the light off and look over at the bed.
The moon is bright tonight, shining through the window and illuminating the room.
I didn’t realize I never put up blinds in here. I hope it doesn’t bother him.
I sit on the side of his left foot, pour lotion onto my hands and rub them together to warm the lotion and my hands up.
He looks over at me as I grab his foot and start massaging the lotion in.
His foot feels very tense, and I don’t know if it’s from the restless leg or if he’s not comfortable with me rubbing his foot.
“Relax,” I say softly.
He nods his head and lets out a breath.
I can feel and see his whole body relax as I get more into massaging his foot.
His eyes flutter open when I move over to the right foot.
After massaging more lotion into my hand, I get to work on his second foot.
I look back up at him to see if he woke up, but his chest rises and falls as soft breaths come out of him.
He fell asleep. His face, which had been tense, now looks more at peace.
I pause for a moment, looking over him, my heart tugging a little at the care we have shown each other in such a short amount of time.
Slowly and carefully, I get up from the bed, making sure I don’t wake him. I pull the blanket up over him and tiptoe out of the room.