Page 105 of Wrath

“I’m saying if you had a seizure.”

“If I have a seizure, there’s a lot of places that’ll hurt to fall on. That’s just life.”

His eyes widen. “What about soccer?”

I let out a sigh. “Soccer is fine. When you’re our age, no one’s gonna tell you that you’ve got to quit what you do.”

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m not quitting soccer.” I laugh.

“Should you, though? What if you fell down out there and—”

“Get trampled?” I shrug. “What if a meteor falls on our house?”

“The odds aren’t the same.”

“You don’t know what they are.”

I watch as he swallows, going quiet as his eyes fix on the road. He’s still and somber for a long time—maybe around fifteen minutes. As we turn onto Fairplay’s main drag, I stretch my legs, rubbing at my knee, which has a bruise. I don’t know where I got it.

“Maybe you could wear a helmet,” he says as we pass by the antique mall.

“Mmm,maybe.”

We drive by the Burger King, by Dollar General. He turns onto the road that will take us to our street.

“I think you should,” he says.

“Okay, Daddy.” I smirk, shaking my head. It still feels fuzzy as hell. When I get home, I’m gonna crash. Makes me feel fucking lame, but I’msotired. And I would like to have a break from thinking.

We don’t speak again until he parks. Then I’m out, and to the house’s front door as fast as I can without being obvious—or falling on my face.

I unlock it, step into the foyer, and turn back to see him coming around the Jeep. “Thanks for taking me,” I tell him.

Then I haul ass to my room.

Fifteen

Ezra

Miller ghosts me when we get home.

I don’t blame him.

It was bullshit what I tried to sell him: that I left the hospital to get his food. I fucking fled the place, then I sat out in the parking lot because Icouldn’tgo back in.

Only assholes act like this to other people. Only fucking dickheads treat the person they like most in the worldthisway.

The best thing I could do for Josh Miller is stay on the outskirts of his life. Let him do his thing. Finish up the year and go to college. Let him meet a good guy who can be good back to him. Someone who doesn’t have to lie about his past for evermore because he’s got secrets no one can ever know.

I convince myself that it’s good I had the moment at the hospital. It reminded me of who I am.

When he gives me a small, polite smile a few hours after we get home from the hospital—we’re passing one another, coming and going from the kitchen—all it does is confirm what a good guy he is. He seems chill but sort of sad. Or maybe that’s justbullshit, and Iwanthim to be sad that I’ve gone distant toward him.

I don’t go onto the roof once he’s in bed. Even though the only thing I want is to sit by his window and smoke until my chest aches less. I don’t even let myself sleep until nearly sunup because I know for sure I’ll wake up screaming. Before I even think about shutting my eyes, I lock my door. My dreams are just starting to go sideways as my phone alarm goes off for school. It works out perfect; I didn’t get enough shuteye to wake up screaming.

I make sure I’m downstairs waiting when he comes to get some breakfast. I give him a polite nod and try to act both chill and nice. Then I pull out my physics textbook and ass-plant on the couch till he comes through ready to leave.

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