10. Lucas
Lucas
10
The sun is just beginning to crest the horizon, reflecting down on the mirror surface of the lake. My feet thump over the packed dirt of the trail. Morning dew shines like diamonds on the grass. I’ve left my earbuds off, instead opting to listen to the sound of the birds and insects that fill the forest.
There’s no better way to begin my day than with a morning run. We’ve been here close to two weeks now and I know the route like the back of my hand, but it still feels fresh and magical compared to my usual route through the city streets. It’s the perfect time to clear my thoughts, which are currently still stuck on our conversation the other day.
I knew I messed up kissing Ezrah, but I didn’t realize how badly until I saw his face when we talked after. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did.
I knew I could keep my distance, but that was hardly an option in our little cabin.
In the days that followed things slowly returned to normal. I should feel grateful that he was willing to pretend it never happened. It would have been reasonable if he refused to talk to me or requested a new guard, but he didn’t.
Honestly, we’re probably spending even more time together now than we were before.
It’s a blessing and a curse all at once.
I can’t get him out of my head, and I feel a profound loss when I think about losing this tenuous thing we have.
It’s so close to perfect. I love spending time with him, and Dil is an absolute angel. The problem is that it’s a house of cards. None of this is really mine. He’s just tolerating me because I’m all that stands between him and a crazy ex.
Realistically I should probably try and bother him less, but I just can’t make myself stay away. Every time I do something that softens his prickly exterior, it feels like a hit of the best drug in the world, and I’ll do anything to make him happy again.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes, pulling me back to reality.
Coming to a stop, I pull it out and frown. Rio Torrez, another Alden Security is calling. Hopefully, someone has something good to report.
But something to report might mean we have to go home, a traitorous voice in the back of my mind tells me.
Shaking my head I shove the thought away. I answer with a cautious, "Is it good news or bad news?"
"Not news at all so much as an update. From our end, not much has changed. Allen comes by once a day and leaves a letter on the door. As far as we can tell, he doesn't know Ezrah isn't there anymore. We've been saving the letters, but he hasn't done anything we can get him on yet."
I let out a long breath. "I guess no news is good news."
"Try not to let Ezrah stress too much. It's only a matter of time before he makes a mistake and when he does, we'll get him."
"Don't worry. I think we're doing okay here."
I hang up the phone, unable to keep a smile off my face as I step inside and get started on breakfast.
By the time I’m finishing up, Ezrah is coming out of his bedroom rubbing his eyes like a sleepy toddler.
“Morning sunshine.” I set a cup of coffee next to him as he falls on his plate.
He grunts in response.
We eat together, get Dil up when she calls, go for a walk, then he goes to get some work done while I spend some time playing with the baby.
It’s a little strange. I never was a homebody. Hell, I got twitchy if I spent even a day inside. Now I have no choice. The only people I’ve seen since we got here are Ezrah and Dil, but I’m still content here.
Happy even.
Every time I feel the growing flame of joy around them, an icicle of guilt stabs my spine. Every shared smile over dinner, every brush of shoulders or hands, every almost reluctant laugh I pull from Ezrah I hoard like they’re something sacred. If he notices anything is off he’s good at hiding it. Unfortunately, this can’t last forever.
The next day is off from the get-go.
When Ezrah comes out for breakfast he barely even smiles at me, taking his seat and picking at his food.
“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly.
“Fine, just dreams,” his words are short and clipped. His eyes avoid mine, locked instead on the contents of his cup.
“Nightmares?” I ask with concern.
“Something like that,” he grumbles, gulping down his coffee.
I don’t know why I do it, but I reach out, resting my hand on top of his. “Don’t forget if you ever need anything, I’m right here.”
Ezrah chokes and sputters on his coffee, his face bright red. “Come on!” he shoots to his feet. “Dil needs fresh air.”
I frown at the barely touched breakfast. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I know I fucked up.
Probably when I tried to touch his hand. I must have overstepped again. I really should know better.
He doesn’t say much else to me the rest of the day. I ask the occasional question but he’s absolutely icing me out. It’s especially noticeable on our walk. He keeps his eyes glued to the trail no matter what I do.
“Was breakfast okay?” I ask.
“It was fine.”
“Are you cold?”
“Nope.” He literally puts more distance between us, moving to walk on the edge of the trail.
It’s starting to get ridiculous. I wish he would tell me what’s wrong, but I can hardly make him talk. All I can do is hope eventually he wants to talk to me.
To my relief, he finally does later that night.
Dil is already down for bed. I’m finishing the last of the dishes. He isn’t saying much, or even really looking at me. He didn’t eat much again either. Ezrah’s just sitting at the table, eyes locked on the wall. I’m pretty sure he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. I’m really starting to worry.
"Doesn’t look like you’re in the mood to watch anything tonight. Penny for your thoughts?" I ask, leaning against the counter and drying my hands.
He shakes his head and lets out a strained laugh. "They might be worth a bit more than that."
"A dollar then."
"How about a glass of wine?"
“Can do. Red or white?" I ask as I open the fridge. I send up a silent prayer that he’ll tell me what’s going on.
"White."
I pour a glass and set it down in front of him, laying my hand briefly on his shoulder before taking my seat. When I touched him he held perfectly still.
"So, have you heard anything about what's going on back home?" He asks after a moment.
"I get check-in calls every few days.”
His eyes lock on mine, a look of disbelief on his face. “You do? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have, but honestly, there’s nothing much to tell, and I didn’t want to stress you out for nothing. He's still going by your house every day and we're still waiting for him to make a mistake we can get him for."
"Do you still think that's going to happen?"
"I do. He can't keep this up forever."
He shakes his head, playing with his glass. "You don't know Allen."
"No, I don't, but I've seen men like him before."
"Have you?"
I let out a long sigh. "We've all got our skeletons."
"Do we?" He downs most of his wine and holds his glass out for me to refill it. Only after he's drunk most of the second does he speak again. "Allen's less a skeleton in my closet and more of a rotting corpse in the middle of my backyard.”
I wait to see if he wants to say more or if it was just a throwaway comment. He takes another drink, then continues.
“We met when I'd just turned eighteen. I needed to move out of my parents' house before they kicked me out and he offered me a place to crash."
"How old was he?"
"Too old to be picking up kids who've never even had their first job. Anyway, I moved in with him. He said he'd help me get on my feet. Told me I was special, and took me to bed. Next thing I knew a few years had passed and he controlled everything. His name was on my bank account, my ID and birth certificate were in his safe, and his marks were on my body." Ezrah downs the rest of his glass. "I knew it was bad and it was only going to get worse, so I took a chance. One day while he was at work, I grabbed what I could and bolted. Didn’t get any of my papers or my money out of the bank. I spent a few months on the streets before I landed a shitty part-time job. I fought tooth and nail to come to LA and get my first writing job. Now he’s tracked me down and here we are.”
When he’s done, I stare at him in awe. The longer I’m quiet, the more nervous he looks. I need to say something.
I let the first thing that comes to mind fall out of my mouth. "Oh my god. You're incredible!"
Ezrah’s face is unreadable. I can’t tell whether he’s going to laugh or cry.