Page 25 of Moonflower
Brooke’s eyes bug out of her head. “WHAAAAT? You told me they were just your friends! Wait. Waitwaitwait. What happened to Matt?”
Cora takes Brooke’s questions in stride. “I’ll tell you when you’re sober, hon. I don’t think you’d remember anything right now.”
With a groan, Brooke leans into Blaze. “I’m not drunk. I promise.”
Blaze chuckles. “Yeah you are, you dork.”
Imani looks over me, Ezra, and Cora with a knowing smirk. “Can’t wait to hear all the details.”
Cora blushes so deeply, Ezra chuckles when he sees it. Then he kisses her on the cheek. “Have fun, babe.”
The second Ezra starts pulling me away, Cora’s face falls and panic fills her eyes. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
She’s joking, right?
Oh shit, she looks like she’s gonna cry.
“We’re here all weekend,” Ezra assures her. “I just don’t want to take you away from your friends too much.”
She relaxes instantly. “Okay. Thank you. You won’t go too far?”
“Definitely not,” I say, planting a firm kiss on her lips. “Now go spend time with them. Because you’re ours for the next two days.”
With a radiant smile, she turns back to the girls, who look like they have a hundred questions each. Ezra and I retreat to the corner of the room and watch her.
I hope things will be different from here on out.
Of course, I know they will be. But I want everything to change. I want Cora to go back to telling us every little thought that goes through her head. I want Ezra to get some fucking help. See a therapist or get on antidepressants or something. And I want . . . well, I want the three of us to spend the rest of our days together doing whatever the fuck makes us happy.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.
Mom: Did you ever look at that job listing?
With a sigh, I show the text to Ezra. I told him about what she sent me last week and may have gone on a slight rant. He listened to the whole thing without a peep. That’s Ezra for you. He’s always been good at that.
“The shit you do pays your bills,” Ezra says. “Don’t know why she doesn’t get that.”
“It’s steady work, too,” I reply. “I think she’s just scared because it’s all online.”
Ezra gives me a knowing look. Hell, he has it harder than I do. Imagine having parents who’re supportive of you pursuing an art career. Don’t think that’s happened in the history of ever. But he’s making it work somehow. Putting his work on print-on-demand sites, taking commissions online, shit like that.
“Maybe if you showed her proof,” Ezra suggests. “That’s what got my parents on board. I showed them how I was actually making money, practically shoved the bank transactions in their faces. It made it make a little more sense to them. And you, you can show them all those comments you get from kids who’re thanking you for helping them.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, staring at my phone. “Maybe I’ll try that.”
The thing is, I can’t help but wonder if my mom is right. What happens if this site decides they don’t need me anymore? Or if I mess it up somehow? My school workload is already heavy enough this semester. What if I can’t keep up with deadlines—with homework or this job?
Plus, freelancing is already risky. It comes with more freedom, but it can trap you, too. I’m not an employee, so I don’t get benefits. No health insurance, no paid time off, no sick days, none of that shit. Honestly, thinking about that is stressful as hell.
And now—not that it’s a bad thing—we finally have Cora. We’ll be five hours away for the rest of the school year, which is going to hurt like hell. There’s no way Ezra and I aren’t going to make it out to Philly more often. Or maybe we can meet her somewhere halfway. Regardless, it’s going to mean less free time for working.
Sagging into the corner, I sigh. It’ll be worth it. I wouldn’t trade a second of the time I have with Ezra and Cora for the world. But these coming months are going to be really fucking stressful.
Ezra nudges me gently. “Stop.”
“What?”
“Stop worrying. Just be here. With her. With us.”
