Chapter 39
thirty-nine
JO
I’m glad Maverick can sleep, but I can’t.
There are too many thoughts running through my head.
Apologizing to Ezra should probably be at the top of my list. Throwing his phone over a cliff might have been a bit of an overreaction.
I’m still not happy that he was in contact with Kai and didn’t tell me.
I thought we were past the secrets. I thought we were friends.
Friends probably wouldn’t pretend to be in a relationship with their friend’s long-lost boyfriend.
Maverick stirs slightly next to me, moving just enough to allow me to slip out of his arms. The moment I do, my heart feels heavy. I’m in love with him. I know I am, even though I pretend otherwise to anyone who isn’t Harlow. But he isn’t mine, and I need to go confess as much to Ezra.
Ezra and Maverick are good for each other.
It’s not fair of me to stand in the way of that when Maverick doesn’t have feelings for me, anyway.
I wish he did. I wish his physical affection and caring meant what I wanted it to mean.
I wish that my parents’ coldness hadn’t made me so emotionally stunted that I fall for anyone that shows me a hint of kindness.
But that’s not the hand I was delt in life, so I need to put on my big girl pants and go talk to Ezra.
I find Ezra still in the gym, where I knew he’d be. He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his toned body and pooling by his feet. I’m sure he’s been in that same spot punching the bag since he came down here. He probably thought Maverick and I were upstairs “reuniting.”
I wish.
Ezra’s icy blue eyes meet mine in the mirror. I can see the hurt and anger there, but he must clock something on my face because he frowns.
“What’s wrong?” he says, turning to face me and removing the headphones from his ears.
I had this whole speech planned about how I lied to protect Maverick but then regretted it.
Instead, I burst into tears. Ezra’s warm and very sweaty arms wrap around me, and I plant my face into his chest, not caring how wet it is.
Sobs wrack my body, and he just holds me through it, which makes me cry harder.
“Please tell me what’s wrong, Bambi,” Ezra says quietly. His heart is beating quickly beneath my ear. I hug him tighter to me, his sweat seeping into my clothes and his warmth breaking my heart.
“Maverick and I aren’t together. We never were. He’s my best friend, and I’m his. That’s all it ever was,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. Ezra stiffens and lets his arms drop, but I hold on to him for a few more seconds before letting go, too. He backs up and stares at me in confusion.
“I don’t understand.”
“You assumed we were together, and I let you because I hated how much pain you put him in. I hated you. I wanted you to hurt, even if it was just a fraction of the pain he felt,” I admitted, the tears drying on my cheeks as I spoke.
Ezra frowns as he takes in my words. “No. You have feelings for him. I can see it.”
“Does it matter? His feelings are for you, not me.”
“Of course it matters! I’ve heard you tell everyone else that their feelings matter.
Yours do too,” he says, frustrated. He doesn’t get it.
Sure, my feelings matter, but when those feelings aren’t reciprocated, it just hurts.
I’ve had this argument with Harlow enough times to know that it’ll just go in circles.
“I’m going to start sleeping on the couch,” I say, changing the subject.
“No,” Ezra says.
“I’m the only one who will fit on it, so it makes the most sense.”
“Jo—”
“This way you and Maverick can get to know each other again without thinking about who is sleeping in his bed,” I say, and turn to leave.
“Jo!” Ezra yells, and I can feel him step toward me without even looking. I run up the stairs, knowing he won’t chase me. I need to get my phone and call Harlow. I fucked up.
I fell for them both.