Chapter 2
EZRA
This time, fucking Tate had gone too far.
With a glance at him, I walked Evan and Lucas to the door of my studio, my gaze landing on Lucas’s swaying ass.
Damn, I liked the way he was built. But he was obviously straight, and I had…
a possessive jerk for a boyfriend. “After I go through and edit the images, I’ll send them along to you.
I have all your contact info already.” I’d had to send confirmation emails to all the players, after all.
“Sounds good.” Evan strode into the late afternoon sunshine.
Stopping, Lucas glanced behind me and leaned in, whispering, “Will you be okay?” His brows furrowed.
“Of course.” I attempted to force a smile, but failed. I couldn’t believe the scene Tate had caused. And now this gorgeous man was worried about me? It was sweet. I patted his forearm. “Thanks. You’ll have the photos shortly.”
With a nod and his jaw clenching, he strolled out the door.
I shut the door behind them, and with a ragged huff, faced Tate. I’d hear more shit from him now. My gut knotted.
“Ezra.” Tate stood at my desk with his hands on his hips.
“Yes?” I strolled to him, my pulse picking up speed. “What’s wrong?” Now. I wanted to add now to the sentence, but it would only anger him more.
“You were looking at those guys. Especially the darker-haired one.” His gaze turned hard as he stood over me.
Shit, he’d noticed. “I had to photograph them, Tate. Of course I looked at them.” I flipped my hair off my shoulder. How could I get him to stop this nonsense?
Snatching my wrist, he squeezed. “Don’t be coy with me. You liked that guy.” He twisted my arm. “You want to fuck him? Huh?”
Pain shot up my arm. “Fuck, no.” I wrenched free of his hold and rubbed my aching wrist. This was new.
He’d never been physical with me. He’d threatened it, but fuck.
My pulse thrummed in my ears. “I’ll need you to leave if you continue behaving this way.
” Peeking into his dark eyes, I cowered. I had to stand my ground.
“No more hockey players, okay? They’re too…” He glanced toward the door. “You enjoy their bodies too much.” He choked out a laugh. “And they think they’re so fucking tough. That one guy was an asshole to me.”
I stepped back and cleared my throat. That guy had been defending me. But I couldn’t say that. “I have to, uh, finish the shoot.” It was a lot of money, and they’d already paid for half of it. “I-I told you—”
“You told me these guys would be a bunch of jocks, and you don’t like jocks.” He edged closer to me, putting his face in mine. “Ezra, I don’t like you taking photos of half-naked men. I told you that.”
But that’s where the money was…“I know, but—”
“But nothing.” He lifted my chin. “Look at me.”
I snuck my gaze to his and flinched. “I didn’t do anything—”
“You fucking did!” With a snarl, his palm struck my cheek.
The force of the slap twisted my head. As stinging spread to my jaw and under my eye, my mouth dropped open.
I cupped my cheek as heat swarmed my chest. “Tate, you need to go. Now.” He’d never hit me before.
A slap was a hit, right? It wasn’t a punch, but it was the same, wasn’t it?
Funny how my face hurt more than my heart right now. When had my feelings for him stopped?
“Ezra, shit, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it.” Slumping his shoulders, he stepped to me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
I stiffened at his touch. If he was capable of this, what else could he do? Was this only the start? In a rasp, I said, “I need you to go.” I bit my lower lip. Would he listen?
“No, baby. I’m sorry, really.” He kissed my cheek and rubbed my back. “It’ll never happen again, okay?”
I had to think of something fast. “Okay, it’s okay. I’m busy, so you should go.” I pushed on his chest.
“Are you sure it’s okay? You forgive me?” He held me out in front of him by my shoulders, his gaze searching my face, his forehead wrinkling.
“Yes, it’s okay.” With a forced smile, I placed my palm on his cheek. This was the only way he’d leave me in peace. I knew the drill.
He swallowed hard. “Well, okay then. I’ll let you finish up here. Call me when you get home.” Sucking in a breath, he scanned the studio and ambled toward the door. “Love you.” He stopped, his hand on the knob.
“Love you, uh, too.” I clenched my fist over my heart. But did I and had I ever? Or was I only attracted to his love bombing when we first met?
“Okay then. Call me.” He up-nodded at me and left.
“Fuck.” I blew out a long breath and hurried to the makeup stations.
Had his slap left a mark? Bending over, I checked myself in the mirror and pulled my hair back.
My cheek was redder than usual, but no bruises were forming.
I sighed. If I ended up with a bruise or a black eye, I’d need an excuse for tomorrow’s shoot.
“Awkward.” I fell into the chair. My inner dialogue sounded more and more like a battered wife. This wasn’t good. And slapping me was the final straw. I needed a way out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Fuck, was it Tate again already? I should have locked the damn door.
After fishing the phone from my pocket, I looked at the screen and smiled. “Maddy.” I answered the call, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, sis. What’s up? How are the rug rats?” I wouldn’t mention a thing about Tate. She already worried about me enough.
“Hey, darlin’. They’re great. How are you doing?” Clanging sounded in the background and then rushing water. She was doing dishes. They were never ending at her house.
“I’m good. I’m doing a photoshoot for a local PHL hockey team.” Picking up a makeup brush. I twisted it in my hand, the earlier tightness in my chest releasing.
“PHL? What’s that?” The water sounds stopped.
“The Professional Hockey League. It’s like a minor league for the NAPH. So, most of the players are younger and honing their skills to move into the NAPH.” I set the brush down. I’d learned a lot about hockey through this shoot and speaking with all the guys.
“Oh, aren’t hockey players hot?” She giggled. “I bet you’ve got some eye candy there in your studio.”
I rubbed my finger along the counter of the station, Lucas coming to mind. “Yeah, they’re attractive for sure. And I’m shooting them with bare chests for a charity calendar.” She was going to love this.
She squealed. “Are you kidding me? Can you send a few of the better photos my way?”
“You know I can’t do that. There are privacy issues and copyright…” I propped my elbow on the counter and my chin in my hand, gazing into the mirror. My cheek was still red. Fucking Tate. My chest heated all over again. I had to get rid of him.
“Aw, I know, darlin’. But a girl can dream.” Lowering her voice, she said, “What’s the latest with Tate?”
Tipping my head back, I breathed in. “Nothing much. We’re still together.” She hadn’t even met him, and she didn’t like him. Probably because she knew she had to call me at work, or he’d butt in on our call and shut it down. He never liked me talking with her. It was weird.
“Oh.” She sighed. “I talked to Mom yesterday.”
Oh, here we go. “And?” I straightened my spine, my chest pinching.
“And she asked about you.”
I paused. “Uh, why?” I shifted, dropping my elbow from the counter and turning toward the studio lights.
“She doesn’t care about me.” No, she made it well known when she kicked my ass out right after high school graduation.
Okay, she’d given me one-thousand dollars and a suitcase of clothing, but that was it.
“She cares about you. I think she’s sorry. I think she wants to make amends,” she said in a soft voice. “Dad too.”
“Fuck Dad.” I scoffed. He’d have beaten me to a pulp and then kicked me out. I doubted he knew Mom gave me money before I left.
“Ezra, people grow, and people change. I know what they did to you was horrible. But you made it anyway.”
“That’s no excuse and you know it.” I scanned my studio, my life’s work. My parents had been toxic, and I didn’t need them in my life. Especially now.
“Well, Mom asks about you sometimes,” she said in a soft voice. “We all miss you here. I’d love it if you could come for a visit.”
The studio was so busy, when would I find the time? “Maybe. I’ll look at my schedule.” Fucking Tate would insist on coming with me, though. I huffed a sigh. “What do you tell Mom when she asks?” An ache floated through my heart. Before Mom found out about me, she’d been a decent mother.
“I tell her about your photography business.” She tutted. “I don’t tell her about your boyfriend. He’s too controlling, Ezra.”
“I know.” Slumping over the counter, I laid my forearm over it, my gaze winding to my reflection in the mirror. I deserved genuine love. Maybe someday.
“Do you still love him?” she asked.
“I…” Shit, I could talk to her. “I don’t know.” Setting my chin on the back of my hand, I rested against the counter. I looked exhausted. The stress of running a business and keeping Tate happy was showing on my face.
“If you don’t know, then you don’t.” She scoffed. “Ezra, guys who try to control you end up hurting people and I don’t mean emotionally.”
Fuck, it was like she already knew what had happened today. “Yeah, okay.”
“Has he tried to hurt you?”
“No…” I laid my cheek on my hand. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror while lying to her.
“Are you sure? No pushing, nothing?” she asked.
“Can we drop this for now?” My throat tightened, and I swallowed through it. “I’m okay.” But was I?
“If you need a place to stay, you can always live with us. We have the casita in the backyard, you know. Wyatt said it would be okay. You could help with—”
“I have my business here. I’d have to start all over.” Not to mention the shitty way they treated queer people in Alabama. But she didn’t quite understand that. I straightened. “Hey, Maddy, I should go. I have work to finish up.”
“Okay. But keep in touch.”