Chapter 33
Thirty Three
Kaeli
“So, will you please tell me what got you so upset?” Ezra’s questioning gaze locks on me as his thumbs caress my waist.
My breath stutters to a slow pace. I can’t tell him. I don’t want him to regard me with pity. So, I tell him half the truth. “Stacy informed me that I went viral for the singing performance I gave at the Community event.” A tired sigh escapes my parted lips.
His confused eyes search mine, “And that’s a bad thing?”
“It wouldn’t have been if it didn’t lead the senior PR team to think that it’d be a great idea to use the attention on me and divert it onto the team projecting it in a good light.” The thought alone infuriates me.
“They’re forcing you?” The lick of anger in his tone brings a little smile to my face.
My fingers reach out, and I smooth his furrowed brows. “Not in so many words, no. But if I disagree, it’ll come across as arrogant and uncooperative, both of which would not aid my career. Especially since I’m a woman in a male-dominated sport.”
“That’s bullshit,” he snaps. “Just say the word, and I’ll talk to the management. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Even though his willingness to stand up for me is like a balm to my aching heart, I stand firmly against the idea. “No. I don’t want you talking on my behalf. I’ve come this far on my own; I can handle a few videos.” I squeeze his shoulders, hoping he’ll believe me.
“But–”
“No.”
With a reluctant sigh, he agrees. “Fine. I won’t. But you know I’m right here. Just one word.”
“I know,” I nod and peck his lips. That seems to settle him a little.
We spent the rest of the night cuddling, which was as bizarre as it was comforting. Though he did run out and get me a tub of ice cream, and some comfort food to munch on while binging a show on the television.
If someone had told me a few months ago that Ezra could be so attentive and gentle, I’d have laughed in their faces. But now, I wonder how I never saw it.
He has me utterly under his influence. And as much as it scares me, not getting to experience this side of him scares me even more.
So, even though the warning bells are blaring in my mind, my heart wins, and I burrow myself in his warm side as the curtains of sleep fall over me.
* * *
“Delivery!”
The next evening, Ezra shows up at my door again with take-out.
“Come in.” With a roll of my eyes, I let him in, a small smile playing on my lips compared to his broad one.
“What were you up to? Looking good by the way,” he asks, giving me a once over and so easily complimenting me as he strolls into my kitchen and takes out the plates with such ease as if he lives here.
I freeze, remembering what I’m wearing. I forgot that I was in a pink hoodie. “I do?” I voice, daring him to make fun of me for wearing pink.
But he again surprises me when he says, “Mhmm. Pink suits you. You should wear it more often.” When I don’t speak a word and stare at him, dumbfounded, he glances up at me again. “Why don’t you, though?” he genuinely asks, rummaging around the kitchen for spoons.
“I–Becau…” I fumble as his question catches me off guard. Getting hold of myself as he patiently waits for me to answer, I reveal. “Because people believe that they have the right to judge my color choices based on how they perceive me.”
His features instantly harden. “Who?” he growls.
“People I have cut contact with. I don’t need people’s judgment in my life.” I shrug.
“Good girl. Now, wear as much pink as possible, you fucking rock in it,” he compliments with a wink, and I fucking melt.
He doesn’t realize how much his words mean to me when all my life, people have tried to bring me down.
So, with a hopeful heart, I sit on the chair at the dining table and power on my laptop again as I reply to the other question he asked when he came in. “I was just creating some content and editing some clips,” I say with a tired sigh.
“You are? Cool.” His head bobs.
I stretch the aching muscles in my neck because of being in front of the screen for so long. “Mhmm.”
“By the way, you never posted that video of me and that little girl from the community event, the one where I told her about my social anxiety and stuttering?”
My lips tilt up at the corner. “I never even recorded the interaction, Ezra.”
At that, his head jerks to look at me as if seeing me in a new light. “Thank you,” he whispers after a minute, and I just shrug.
Dividing the Chinese food into two plates, he grabs them and walks over to me. He keeps a plate in front of me, bending at his waist to glance at the screen of my laptop.
His light mood shifts instantly the second his eyes fall on Cillian on the screen, his jaw clenching. I had been creating some reels from the Bandits and the Falcons games.
Without a word, he slams his plate in front of him as he takes a seat at the head of the table to my left.
I slide the device to the side and grab my plate, digging into my food. When I’m almost halfway done with my meal, and he still doesn’t say a word, I ask, “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he grunts, his broody side making an appearance.
I do think I have an idea, so I test him. “Does your bad mood have something to do with Cillian?”
He looks up from his plate and cuts me a glare. “Don’t say his name,” he growls.
“So, it is?” My eyebrows arch, though the question is rhetorical. “He is handsome, by the way, with his tattoos covering his rugged and rough edges.”
Ezra doesn’t say a word, but his knuckles tighten over the fork he’s holding. And I love to rile him up, so I don’t shut up. “I might need to ask him for a selfie, and maybe wear his jersey to one of the games.”
His fist slams on the table, rattling the cutlery and scaring the daylights out of me. “Don’t you fucking dare.” His voice low enough to give me goosebumps.
But when I see his face, a truck of regret and guilt slams into me. Ghosts of some untold past cling to his features. His eyes glaze over as he battles to stay in the present.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Ezra. I was just kidding,” I cover his hand with both of mine on the table. When his muscles still don’t loosen, I stand up and walk over to him, making space between him and the table so that I can sit on his lap.
Ezra looks everywhere but at me, even though he doesn’t stop me from invading his space. Needing him to understand how sorry I am, I grab his face and make him look at me.
“I’m sorry, Ezra. So fucking sorry.” I kiss him, hoping that he’ll believe me, and massage his tightly corded shoulders.
With a sigh, he lets it go and wraps his arms around me, holding me in place as our warm and wet mouths engulf and comfort each other.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat against his lips.
He squeezes the back of my neck as he mumbles. “It’s okay.”
It’s not, but I know he won’t say it. So, I wrap my arms around him and keep my head over his heart, breathing him in.
A few minutes pass before he speaks. “Cillian was my best friend in college.”
Out of all the things I’d expect him to say, this was not it. The hostility between them would never let you believe that these guys could ever be friends.
I don’t move or interrupt him, just calmly rub his back. He needs to let it out.
“I was dating this girl, Jenna.” My body stiffens at the name of this girl I have never met, all because she had been someone important to him.
“I loved her in a way a college guy would,” he continues. “Was loyal to her and never looked at another girl once.”
Does he still love her? The question bubbles in my mind, but I stay mum.
“I thought she loved me, too, and all that bullshit. Turns out, she only wanted me for my fame,” he scoffs, his words salty. “One day, I walked in on her in the locker room fucking a few of my teammates at once. She cheated and had no sign of remorse for being caught.”
Fuck!
I finally pull back and look at him as his eyes line up with tears. Someone hurt this strong fucking man, and I want to punch Jenna in the face for letting go of this sweet man, for wasting her chance away and hurting his true and caring heart.
I may argue with him time and time again, but it’s no secret that he’s caring, kind, and perceptive. He’s always ready to help the guys on and off the ice. Always ready to help anyone in any way possible.
And someone dared hurt him.
I caress his jaw, and he collects himself and continues. “It wasn’t just Jenna who cheated. My teammates’ betrayal stuck a deeper knife in my chest. I considered them my family, my friends, and they did this. They cheated, too.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, even though it’s not me whose apology he needed.
He shakes his head, trying to keep his tears at bay and be strong.
“Where does Cillian come into this? Was he one of the teammates?” I ask hesitantly.
“No,” he says in a small voice.
“Then?” My brows furrow, not understanding.
“He knew.” He chokes on the last words as his tears finally break the barrier and flow down his cheeks.
Seeing him like this breaks my fucking heart, and I haul him to my chest, hugging him fiercely, wishing to whatever power that exists to take away all of his pain. My own tears don’t stay far behind, but I don’t let him see me crying.
It’s about him and his feelings and what he needs. And he needs to let it all out to get over the betrayal that so many people gave him.
I can’t even imagine the amount of pain he handled and battled alone. God! I hate that he had to.
“I’m right here,” I say as his body shakes with violent sobs, his head nestled in the crook of my neck. I don’t tell him to quiet down, I don’t tell him not to cry.
All I want him to know is that I’m right here with him. All I want him to know is that he has me to shoulder his burdens and stand in his corner. All I want him to know is that he has me to tear down anyone who tries to fuck with him or his heart.
All I need him to know is that he has me.