Page 124 of Wrath

His lips press together, and he shakes his head, not looking at me.

“It’s because you’re scared of hospitals. You said so last night.” I play with his hair at the nape, thumbing it gently. “I know something happened to you,” I whisper. “And it doesn’t change a thing for me. When I think of something hurting you, I want to fucking murder whatever it is. Whatever gave you nightmares. I would rip it apart. If I could.”

He stares at something over my shoulder. “I’m not the right person for you.”

“You don’t believe me? It’s like…I say this, and I mean it so much, but it doesn’t sink into your head. I can feel it.”

His face is expressionless. Dammit. I grip his chin. “Look at me, Ez. Look at my face.” He shuts his eyes. “Tell me this much: Who fucked up before me? Who fucked around with you and made you feel like loving you was hard work?”

Now he looks at me. There’re tears in his eyes.

I lock my arms around him, squeezing, rolling onto my back, pulling him down on top of me. He’s pinned against my chest, his cheek on my shoulder.

“Yeah, I said it.” I laugh. “Fuck.” I blow a breath out. I just sort of said I love him.

I can feel him take a deep breath. Then he lifts his head, peering down at me with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“Who? Tell me.” I run a hand into his hair, and once again, he won’t meet my eyes.

“You wanna push me away, disengage and just end this shit every time it crosses your mind that it’s too much for me. That it’s a hardship for me—howyoufeel. You realize you’re the one that’s hurt, but you think it’s too much forme? I’m not a fucking weak guy. I know I might look like I am.” I laugh.

He shakes his head, looking into my eyes again. “You look perfect, Miller.”

“Youlook perfect.” I stroke my fingers over his neck, and Ez shuts his eyes.

“I fucking hate it, thinking no one made you feel the way you should feel. Dude, you’re a prince. I love where this is going between us.”

“I don’t get why, though.” He bows his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Because I’m into you. That’s why. There’s no other why. I just…want you,” I rasp. “I want you near me. I want to see you feeling good. Because Ido. When I see this look in your eyes” —I stroke his eyelid softly with my fingertip— “it hurts me. Like, it actually hurts my chest.”

His eyes flit up to mine, but this time they’re flat and hard. “I know, that’s what I’m saying. Cut the cord, man.”

“I don’t want to.” I groan. “I don’t want to cut the fucking cord. I’m not scared. I’m not bothered. I promise,” I say, hating how I’m fumbling over my words. “Let me be your—I don’t know. Your bungee cord.”

He wipes his eyes, looking away again. Then he rolls away from me and hugs one of my pillows. He blows a heavy breath out, and I stretch out behind him. My lips brush his shoulder. “Listen, bruh. I’m strong enough for all your stuff.” When he doesn’t move, I add on, “If you don’t want to talk more, don’t. Just tell me if you’re okay right now. Whatever pill you took before football yesterday, that made you overheat? Is that stuff out of your system?”

I press my cheek against his shoulder, wrap him up from behind.

“It’s okay now,” he says, quiet.

“Is it? You feel okay?” My hand sifts through his hair.

He nods.

“Do you need to take something today?” I ask him gently.

He shakes his head.

“It wasn’t chicken pox,” he whispers. He holds his hand up. It takes my brain a half second to see the scars, remember what he told me.

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

He’s so still in my arms. With my arm still wrapped around him, I feel for his hand, closing mine around it.

“I had an MRI before. And got put under a ton of times. I didn’t tell you, did I? I didn’t stay for when you woke up.” His voice goes hoarse on that. He swallows. “Find someone who does, Mills. Find somebodybetter.”

I can fucking tell he’s gonna bolt, so I tighten my grip on him. Then, on a whim, I crawl over his body, lying in front of him so I can see his face.

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