I look at Atlas and Cy, and they both look conflicted. Like they actually buy into Ezra’s bullshit.This is stupid.He can't do this. He can’t just make a decision about our lives like this.
“F… fuck that.” I snarl, grabbing my keys. “I’m going out t… to find her whether you like it or not. I’m n… not done with her. N… Not by a long shot.”
“Tristan,” Ezra calls out and the ice in his voice stops me in my tracks, “if you bring her back to this house, I will kill her. Her blood will be on your hands and if you think I give a fuck about the repercussions, you’re wrong. I don’t fear death, I welcome it.”
The fire within me slowly extinguishes, as my shoulders slump. I may want Stevie back, but there’s no way in hell I’m putting her in danger. As much as I hate to admit it, Ezra’s right. If I bring her back here and he hurts her, I’ll never be able to live with myself. Right now, the safest place for her is as far away from us as possible.
Twenty-Two
Two DaysLater
I studyhim as he cuts two juicy slices off a lemon and carefully sets them on the edges of our ice-filled glasses. He wraps his fingers around the ice-cold bottle of Pellegrino and just as he begins twisting the cap off, a surprise hiss of gas escapes the bottle. He jumps back a little before a hint of a smile touches his lips. He feels silly for his reaction and as a soft blush stains his cheeks, he slowly shakes his head.
It’s a minuscule sign of his humanity, but that doesn’t stop me from envying him for it. I hate how numb I’ve become. How I never let anything hurt me. I hate that the second I feel pain coming, my gut instinct is to run. And as much as I try to deny it, isn’t that what I’m doing right now? Running?
He finishes splashing the bubbly concoction into our glasses and gently places the bottle on the mosaic tiled table perched between our lounge chairs. He takes a step back and offers us a gentle bow, almost as if to say “All yours.”
“That’ll be all, Charles.” Melanie says, stabbing a stainless steel straw into her glass before wrapping her ruby red lips around it. “Thank you.”
I offer Charles a sham of a smile to thank him, but it’s the only thing I can muster. It pales in comparison to the genuine smile on his face, but he accepts it anyway and retreats back into the house.
“You know, most people would kill to lounge by a pool like this and here you are, looking like someone killed your goddamn puppy.”
I let out a half-hearted laugh. “Is it that obvious?” I’m normally good at hiding my emotions. At shielding myself from the rest of the world. But even after 48 hours to fester, this cut hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before. More than losing Alex.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She prods. “To get away from them for good.”
“It was.” I stammer. “I mean it is. I just… You’re probably the last person I should tell all this to. Your father is the leader of their rival for god’s sake.”
Melanie takes another slow sip of her sparkling water before responding. “I’m not my father, Stevie.” She says, taking on a more serious tone. “And despite what you may think, The Reapers have always been good friends of mine. I care about them, and strangely enough, I care about you, too. You can talk to me. And I mean, it’s not like you have anyone else to talk to.”
“You’re right.” I say, exhaling a deep breath. “Okay, honestly? It still doesn’t make sense to me. Why would Ezra kill my sister?”
Melanie pulls off sunglasses and glares at me. “Babe, he’s Ezra. He’s been through a lot of shit. Does he ever have a reason for acting the way he does?”
“I don’t know.” I say, gnawing on my lower lip. “Something still doesn’t sit right with me about the whole Ezra thing. After Alex disappeared, he was out nearly every night. If his end goal was to get closer to me, why the hell would he distance himself so much? Why not cozy up to me while I’m freaking out about Alex? I mean, for all he knew, I’d never find out who took her. So why not take advantage of the alone time?”
“That’s a good point.” She says, sipping on her Pellegrino. “But you found his jacket. If that’s not him being caught red-handed, I don’t know what is.”
“Yeah.”
“And you said it yourself, he confessed.”
Did he?
“I mean, he said her blood was on his hands.”
“And that doesn’t strike you as a confession?”
“Not really.”
Melanie sets her glass down, leans back into her lounge chair, and closes her eyes to soak in the sun's powerful rays.
“You know what I think?” She murmurs. “I think you’re looking for a reason to forgive him. You want Ezra to have a conscience, to think and behave like a normal person would. But babe, he’s not normal. There’s nothing underneath the beautiful shell but a cold black heart.”
Mel’s phone dings and I’m literally saved by the bell. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m searching for the good in Ezra that just isn’t there.
Out of nowhere, Melanie drops her phone, and the sound of it crashing against the ground jolts me from my thoughts.
