Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
VIOLET
The thought of losing Ezra kills me. He loves me how I know I’ve always wanted to be loved.
He’s shown it to me in such a short time.
I believe we both can be mature enough not to let anything get in the way of our friendship, but is that fair to him?
To us? Because if it doesn’t work out, that hurt will still linger like our feelings did for so long.
I sit here with my stomach twisting at my thoughts because I’m not innocent. I’ve continued this relationship as if we were together. And now I’m sitting here questioning it. It’s not fair to him.
Ezra wraps my hand in his. “What are you thinking?”
“That I’m a fucking hypocrite.”
“Don’t say that.”
“But I am,” I reply, trying to hold back my tears.
“There’s no rule book on life and how to handle what we’ve been through, and if you need more time, that’s fine. I won’t rush you.”
I hang my head low, staring down at the ground. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt us. We’ve been hurt enough.”
He shifts closer to me, his thumb rubbing circles on my hand. “You will not hurt me. I would be more hurt if we didn’t give this a shot.”
I force myself to look up at him. The patience this man has is inexplicable. We’ve been through a storm, and he’s stepped out of it while I’m still in the middle of it.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
He exhales slowly. “I know you are and I know it’s hard. But don’t let what they did get in the way of us.”
A lump forms in my throat because if it weren’t for them and everything they did, I would’ve said yes without hesitation.
I would’ve jumped into this with him with no second thoughts and no fear.
But they took so much from me. They chipped away at pieces of me I didn’t even realize could break.
And now, even though Ezra has been giving those pieces back, their actions still sit in the back of my mind.
It makes moving forward harder than it should be, harder than I want it to be. And I hate that.
“You won’t lose me at all. I can promise you that.” He leans in closer, kisses my cheek, and wraps his arms around me.
I rest my head against him, feeling his heartbeat beneath me.
“Whatever you decide, I’m not going anywhere.”
My eyes sting at his words. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”
“Of course.”
Sometimes I don’t understand why this man even wants me. He’s seen me at my worst. Like my absolute worst—all broken, messy, and sometimes batshit crazy. He’s seen the parts that I didn’t even know I had. And somehow, he stayed, and has always made me feel my actions are justified.
Maybe it’s our history. Maybe it’s because he knows me better than most people ever will. But even then, I still get this guilty feeling sometimes, like I’m adding chaos to his life instead of peace. He deserves a peaceful life, and I’m still trying to figure out mine.
Then, every time he looks at me, he makes me feel safe and calm. And then it makes me forget all the shitty people and everything they’ve done. As if none of what happened even matters because we have each other.
Ezra nudges my shoulder again. “You’re making that face again.”
“What face?”
“That face you make when you’re overthinking.”
I remain silent, wondering which expression he’s referring to, and how he knows. It’s not the first time he’s caught it.
“Yup. There it is. It’s getting stronger.”
I elbow him. “Shut up.”
“Ow.” He laughs, rubbing at his side.
“I didn’t hurt you.”
“You hurt my heart,” he says, rubbing at his chest with a puppy-dog face.
I give him a small smirk. “Sure.”
“My heart is sensitive, you know.”
I lean down to his chest. “I’m sorry, sensitive heart,” I say before sitting back up. “Is that better?” I ask, catching Ezra’s growing smile.
“Much.”
I shake my head and shove him lightly. He grabs onto me and pulls us to lie down, and my head lands on his chest. He squeezes his arms tightly around me.
I let out a breath. “I needed this.”
“What?”
“This,” I say, waving my hand around. “I forgot what fresh air felt like.” I chuckle.
“I’m glad I could steal you away.”
“Me too.”