CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 18
He frowns, and I can tell he wants to ask me a lot of questions. Questions I don't want to answer right now. Questions that don't belong in this moment, in the air around us. I swallow, and his gaze bores into my throat. When his eyes meet mine again, I find understanding in them.

"Is it fair of me to ask you to try?" he asks quietly.

"I don't know if that's fair. But I don't know if it would be fairer to say no, so..." I nod shakily. "I'll try."

Her lips curve into a small smile. “Thank you. Now, let me wash you.”

We were getting dressed when my doorbell rang throughout the apartment. As Jeremiah left my room to let his brother in, I suddenly felt guilty. It felt good to be alone with Jeremiah, but it feels perfect when we're all together. I bit the corner of my lower lip as I walked down the hallway.

"Did they make you take the eggs from the chickens yourself?" Jeremiah jokes. "What the hell took you so long?"

—They didn't have the damn pink drink Laury likes, so I had to go to three different places to find it.

Ezequiel's words make me stop just before they see me. Even if I don't want to take care of myself, I do. Just as I'm in conflict with myself about my feelings for them, but they keep growing despite everything. And after what Jeremiah told me made Ezequiel so reluctant to want anything more than sex, I realize he's just as scared as I am. Poor Jeremiah, the man standing between a terrified woman and a terrified man. That makes me smile as I walk into the kitchen.

“I heard something about a pink drink,” I said.

Jeremiah smiles at me over his shoulder, waving something wrapped in the air. "And food. Luckily, we didn't waste away while we waited."

Ezequiel gives him an exasperated look. “It really wasn’t that long.”

—Long enough for us to fuck in the shower and get dressed.—

My eyes bulge out of their sockets with the ease with which Jeremiah lets it out. Ezekiel looks back at me, and I swallow as I meet his gaze, wondering if I'll find pain or anger. But instead, my eyes widen with desire. He darts his tongue out to lick his lips as his gaze roams my body. Suddenly, my shorts and T-shirt feel very thin and very hot.

"I wish I was here to see it," he says, his voice thick with lust.

I try to hold back a smile. "Well, we'll see how breakfast is, and maybe I'll offer a second helping."

Ezequiel laughs, and I both love and hate how my heart races. We sit down to eat on my island. The egg and bacon sandwiches are almost cold from how long it took to arrive, but I don't care.

"Any plans for the week?" Jeremiah asks.

—I'm traveling. I have to audition some bands for the charity event.—

—Fly?— asks Ezequiel.

Driving. It's only three hours. And something you should know about me: I love a good road trip where I can blast my playlist for a few hours.

"Hmm. Noted," Ezequiel says quietly. "When are you leaving?"

—Tuesday, early to avoid traffic. I'll be back on Friday.—

He and Jeremiah exchange a look, and Jeremiah nods.

—You have too many internal conversations.—

Jeremiah laughs. “At one point, we tried to convince our mom that we could read each other’s minds when we were little. We put on a show: We’d ask the other person to write a word on a piece of paper and give it to our mom. Then the other person would guess the word. We thought we’d fooled her, but a few days later she told us she knew exactly what we were doing.”

I throw my head back in laughter. “I feel like your mom had her hands full with you guys.”

“Yeah,” Ezekiel agrees. “Not because we were mean, but because we were so loud and had so much energy. In high school, we played almost every sport, and she was at every game. Looking back, we pretty much took up all of her time, so now we make sure to give back to her. We adore her and so much more.”

—And you never remarried?—

Ezequiel barely took a bite, so he can only shake his head. Jeremiah replies, "She said marrying my father was enough to show him she didn't want to remarry."

\-Damn!-

—Yes.— Ezequiel laughs.

Have you seen or spoken to him again since he disappeared from your lives?

"No way!" Jeremiah mocks. "I don't want to either. And your father?"

I don't know anything about him except his name, and that he was my mother's love at one point, like so many other men. He left while she was still pregnant with me. My mother already had a new love when I was born.

“Interesting,” Ezequiel says, and I laugh, knowing it’s the kindest thing he can say.

"When you get home, can we expect a 'I miss you' text so we can come back?" Jeremiah asks, with a mocking smile.

I raise an eyebrow. “Perhaps my absence will cause me to receive that message from you.”

"Oh, I know I'll miss you," he says so easily.

I shouldn't do it. I know, but I look at Ezequiel anyway and ask, "Will you do it?"

It's almost as if I feel Jeremiah at my back, eager for Ezequiel to say the right thing. Me too. I want him to say yes, that he'll miss me, that he'll think of me, that he'll yearn for me the way I know I will for him and for Jeremiah. Ezequiel doesn't speak at first; his eyes dart back and forth between mine. Then they settle, staring hard at me. I hear his gulp, and the nerves that accompany it. I can sense he's made a decision, and I wait for it, my heart racing and desperate.

"I will," he says softly, then clears his throat. "I'll miss you, Laury."

And my heart takes flight. I don't even try to stop it.

Chapter 8

"Thanks," I say, shaking the lead singer's hand. "I'll let you know by the end of the week if I sign you."

\-I look forward to hearing from you.-

I watch the band leave and practically slump into the chair next to Heather. "How many more?"

"Two." He chuckles. "I can record them and show them to you if you're too tired."

"No, no," I sigh, sitting up. "I want to see them all live, but my God, I don't know if it's jetlag or what the hell, but I'm dead tired."

Or maybe it's that I've been staying up until 3 a.m. these past two days, either on the phone or texting Jeremiah and Ezequiel. Even after I finished talking to them, I'd stay up for another half hour, agonizing over what the hell I was thinking, letting things get this far. Then I'd roll over, close my eyes, and spend the next half hour convincing myself it was safe to go further. To trust them. To feel the same safety with them that I do. A near-constant war now. It scares and excites me both that my heart will win, but there's always that whisper in the back of my mind.

At what price?

I check my phone while we wait for the next band to set up and frown at the fact that I haven't heard back from Ezekiel or Jeremiah in the last few hours. Maybe there was an emergency at the gym.

“Is there anything specific you’d like us to play?” the singer asks, making me look at him.

I put my phone on my lap. “Whatever you want to put on it is fine.”

By the time we're done with the bands for the day, I'm struggling to keep my eyes open and my stomach is growling so loudly that Heather stares at me with wide eyes.

"Are you hungry?" she chuckles.

—I guess I'm hungry. I saw a restaurant on the way and thought...—

"No!" he exclaims, making me raise my eyebrows. "I mean, I heard the hotel food is to die for. You should order something there."

—Okay. Anything special?—

—The hamburger.—

—A hamburger?—

He gives me an awkward smile and nods. We discuss remaining details for the event on the way back to the hotel, and I check my phone every few minutes, wondering why the hell I'm still not getting any messages. I'm about to text Sarah and Kamila to see if they know anything, but they're already making fun of me enough for how much I talk to Jeremiah and Ezekiel, and how they've caught me smiling on the phone when one of them texts.

"Is everything okay?" Heather asks.

"I'm waiting for a message." She smiles, and I look at her in exasperation. "You too, no."

She throws up her hands. “I didn’t say anything. Maybe I just noticed how your face lights up when you see certain names on the screen.”

—It's... new. I don't know. Maybe the excitement is just that.—

"Well, I don't have much experience with love, but I do know, from seeing my parents, that they're terribly in love..." She rolls her eyes. "I assure you, it's not always emotion that makes you react that way. They've been married for thirty years, and they're still married if the other's name is mentioned."

I smile. I smile! When have I ever smiled when talking about love instead of frowning at it?

That's how it is with Sarah and Kamila, but the truth is, I can't imagine feeling that way. At least not forever. It seems like something from books, not real life. For me, love is very... fleeting. As if one bad action or word is enough to turn into anger, enmity, hatred, contempt. Suddenly, love has conditions and limits, when before people talked as if it had no limits. I don't see the point.

For the first time, though, I feel like a liar saying all this. Oh, I believe it's true. My mother's many great loves have taught me this well, but as I look out the window, I wonder if another kind of love can exist for me. If I could ever trust myself to love someone like that. If I could ever trust someone to tell me they loved me like that. When I start seeing Jeremiah and Ezekiel in my mind, I immediately pick up my phone and stare at the fact that they haven't texted me all day, a reminder not to think about them too much.

"What are your plans for tonight?" I ask Heather.

"Well, maybe I would have tried to find a date on some app around here." She laughs. "But after that conversation, I think I'll just stick with one thing and call it a night."

I roll my eyes. “It’s just my cynical heart. By all means, go out, fall in love, and have a long-distance relationship where he ends up moving in for you and you two get married in the sunset.”

—Only if you plan the wedding.—

I laugh. “Deal. I just need the groom’s name to get started.”

—Hmm, this guy named Sonny sounds pretty promising on the app I'm using—.

We spent the rest of the ride to the hotel and the elevator looking at photos. By the time we got to our rooms, across the hallway from each other, I'd stolen his phone and pressed it about four times.

"Let me know if there's any results in a date," I say.

—And you'll tell me how that burger turned out.—

—I will. Good night.—