Chapter 91
ninety-one
MAVERICK
When did the lights go blurry? Probably around the fourth bottle of wine, I think to myself and chuckle.
I wonder how long I’ve been down here that I could drink that many.
I’ve been known to hold my own in a drinking contest, but I think four bottles of wine is a lot.
And I’m not even good drunk. I’m just kind of dizzy and nauseous drunk.
And my head is pounding, but that might be because of all the loud noise.
I lie flat on my back on the cool floor and stare at the ceiling above me. It saved my life. I think. Unless that’s Patrick digging me out. That possibility is the reason I’ve stayed quiet down here and haven’t yelled to let anyone know I’m alive.
Also, what’s with all the fucking bombs? That’s how we all ended up separated and now it’s caused my parents’ house to literally fall on me. Who is bombing Patrick?
Actually, many people would like that opportunity, I’m sure.
“I bet this puts a wrench in the wedding plans,” I mutter to myself and then stifle a laugh.
I don’t think anyone could hear it over the ruckus out there, but I’m not risking it.
“Too bad. I was really looking forward to that exotic Pittsburgh venue.” I can’t help the laugh that escapes this time.
Once I calm down, I realize it’s eerily silent.
Sitting up slowly, I spin on my butt and face the door.
There’s a loud thump and then a grunt. I stand quickly, sway a little, and grab one of the empty wine bottles from the table.
I left them there neatly and not on the floor because I’m not a heathen.
Raising the bottle above my head, I watch as the door slowly opens with a loud groan; the metal protesting against all the dust and debris.
My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I stop breathing when I see the man who squeezes his way inside. “Ezra?” I whisper, pretty sure this is a wine dream. That’s a thing, right?
“Oh god,” Ezra whimpers, then runs for me. I’m in his arms, the wine bottle dropping to the floor and shattering. “Sweetheart, you’re okay.” I think he’s saying that more to himself. Then I see the blonde head of hair that flies into the room and wedges her way in between us.
“Angel?” I still can’t believe they’re both here.
I pull away and cup each of their cheeks in my hands.
Ezra first and then Jo. They’re real, and they’re here.
Other than looking like they haven’t slept in a week, they’re healthy.
At least I think that until my eyes find Ezra’s shirt. “You’re hurt!”
“He’s going to be more hurt when we get back and Martha sees how many stitches he’s ripped,” Jo jokes.
She’s smiling with tears streaming down her face.
Ezra is, too. Eyes shining with happiness and relief.
One set brown, one set blue. I know mine are the same.
I pull them both back into my embrace, trying to be careful of Ezra’s injury, but he won’t allow it, making sure we’re as close together as possible.
“Uh, guys? What did you find?” I hear Kai yell.
“I’m alive, dude! I drank too much wine and my tummy hurts!
” I yell back. I can hear Kai chuckle, or maybe I just think I hear it because I know the sound so well.
I’m alive. I have the two people I love most in the world in my arms, and it sounds like everyone I consider family is here, too.
There’s nothing more I could ask for or care about.
Actually, wait.
“Where’s Patrick?”
Jo turns green, and Ezra pales.
“You really don’t want to know what happened, but he’s gone,” Ezra supplies, rubbing Jo’s back and looking concerned. I know with how Ezra is relaxed, even if he is bleeding and worried about Jo losing her lunch on his shoes, that Patrick is dead.
“Aw, man, that means no donut wall,” I say and laugh. I laugh even harder when I notice the confused looks on their faces. Jo shakes her head and grabs both of us by the hand. I just smile and let her lead us home.