“All right, Ezra,” she says softly. “I will come with you.”

“Good.” I kiss her hand, rising to my feet. “I want you to go to your room and pack some clothes. Just the essentials. I want to be gone in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” she answers just as quietly, nodding as she starts to push up out of her chair.

I don’t wait for her, moving back through the house as I hear her heading toward the stairs, deciding to wait by the door so I can watch and make sure I don’t miss it if Alexander decides to come home early.

“This is stupid,” a voice sounds from behind me, making me jump.

Eli is leaning against the entrance to the sitting room just off the entryway, his arms crossed and his eyes hard. “You know that Dad will never let you get away with this.”

“I would like to see either of you try to stop me,” I say in warning. “She’s not going to suffer for one more second in this fucking house. Do you understand?”

“Suffer,” Eli scoffs. “Because being pampered around the clock by nurses while having every comfort at her beck and call is suffering.”

“She’s a prisoner, Eli,” I spit. “Your own mother has been locked up in this house with no say about any part of her life, and you’ve never lifted a finger to help her. You’ve never said a word.”

“I’m not the one who—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. “I’m talking now. That man you worship so much is a monster. A fucking monster. He locked our mother in her room. He made her hate herself so much that she wanted to die. Do you get that? Or are you so deluded by Alexander’s lies that you’ve actually convinced yourself that she’s the villain in that story? For what? For trying to find any semblance of happiness in this hellhole she was trapped in with that man who treated her like she wasn’t worth his time?”

Eli’s brow knits, his mouth turning down in a frown. I watch as he averts his eyes to the floor, no doubt mulling over my words. “That’s easy for you to say,” he says quietly. “It was always about you, after she had you. You were all that she cared about.”

“That’s not true.”

We both turn at the sound of my mother’s voice, and I watch as she drops her bag on the floor, closing the distance between Eli and her until she stands directly in front of him. She reaches up to press her palm against his cheek, a tear slipping down hers as she gives him a sad smile.

“I have loved you since before you were born, Eli,” she tells him. “I have loved you every day since. I’m sorry that I didn’t fight harder to show you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t bring myself to speak out against your father’s lies. But don’t you think for one second that I loved you any less than your brother. Not for one second.”

To my utter shock, I watch as my brother’s lip trembles, his hand twitching as if he might place it over Mom’s for the briefest of moments. When he swallows, getting himself under control and saying nothing, I decide we can’t wait any longer.

“Mom,” I remind her gently. “We need to go.”

Mom lingers where she’s at for another second, brushing her thumb across Eli’s cheek. “I love you. I’m sorry if you ever thought that I didn’t.” She pushes up on her toes, pressing a kiss to the place her thumb just was, and Eli’s eyes shut, his mouth a tight line. “Be happy, Eli,” she whispers. Then she turns on her heel, grabs her bag, and follows me out.

I send up a silent promise then and there that she’ll never come back here again.

OceanofPDF.com

Twenty-Nine

Five days after Ezra walked away from me, and mostly, I’m just lost. I’ve gone over that day in the stairwell more times than I can count, picking apart the conversation we had via text an equal number of times. There is a deep, needy part of me that wishes he would come after me—even though I know it’s irrational to feel that way. Ezra made it clear that he won’t be chasing after me anymore.

And deep down, I know that’s my fault.

I think I knew even when I accused him of betraying me that it wasn’t something he would do. I’ve had hours and hours to agonize over the possibility, and the conclusion I keep coming to is that I acted irrationally, that I should have given him a chance to explain himself. But the truth is…I am afraid of this thing that’s been brewing between us. Maybe I didn’t fully realize before that day in court, maybe my subconscious had been just looking for something to attach to so that it could protect my heart from another potential break; I can’t be sure. All I know is that regardless of how I feel or what I know…I miss him.

But how can I go to him after all the horrible things I said? I wouldn’t even know where to begin. “I’m sorry” feels trite in the face of throwing the most painful parts of his life back at him. No matter how I look at it, I’m the asshole now. I’ve spent so long pushing people away…I don’t even know how to begin to pull them closer.

There are only two days left before we’re expected to reconvene in court to deliver our closing arguments, and outside of the knowledge that I will have to face Ezra again, that I will have to see him again and pretend that I don’t miss him terribly—I still have practically nothing concrete to bring home Bianca’s case. I’ve been over her financials again and again. I’ve combed through record after record of bland business dealings from Lorenzo’s office; there is a mountain of paperwork sitting on my kitchen table that I’ve read twice over and come up with nothing.

Which means that not only have I failed in my personal life, I’m going to fall flat on my face at work too.

I’m currently sifting through a massive loan contract on the second mortgage in Lorenzo’s mistress’s name; in my heart I know there’s something there, but I just can’t seem to put the pieces together. Is it where they meet up? Did he buy it for her? She has it listed as a “rental property,” which, by all accounts, makes absolutely no sense given that there’s no paper trail of any tenants.

I’m drowning in a sea of my own making when a knock sounds at my door, and I have to physically shove piles of paperwork away just so I can swim my way out of the mess. I assume it’s Nate reporting back after his self-appointed stakeout; he insisted last night that he should go sit outside the “rental property” today and see if he could see anything fishy going on. Like he’s some sort of PI now. It got him out of my hair, which means I haven’t had to answer any questions about Ezra, so I allowed it.

All of this to say it comes as a complete surprise when I wrench my door open to reveal a very haggard-looking Ezra Hart leaning against my doorframe. His normally bright green eyes seem duller, and there is a few days’ worth of stubble at his jaw that he normally keeps shaved. It’s darker than his hair, and the ruggedness it adds to his already unfairly attractive appearance is downright sinful. Even knowing it’s not the time to notice these things, I can’t help but do it anyway.

Every molecule in my body seems to ready itself in a position that would force me to leap into his arms, and it’s an actual physical toll, resisting the urge. “Ezra,” I say in slight shock. “What are you doing here?”

The dark circles under his eyes conflict with the thin smile he gives me, and he shrugs one shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s a good question.”

“Do you—” My tongue feels tangled, like it’s forgotten how to make words. “Do you want to come in?”