Page 139 of Wrath

At this hour, it’s deserted, just like I figured it would be. There’s only two working streetlights in the parking lot, casting the place in soft, gold light. We get out and walk quietly down to the water.

There’s a tree with big roots I think we can sit on, but Ezra sinks down first, ass-planting in the sand. He looks up at me, and I sit by him. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him. I sit cross-legged and he takes my hand into his lap.

He squeezes it a few times, almost giving it a massage.

“I should do that to you,” I tell him. I take his right hand, rubbing everywhere I think might feel good, and he slumps against me, making soft, moan sounds that—not surprisingly—get my dick up again.

He wraps his left arm around my waist, and I try to snap-shot the moment in my memory: the sound of water lapping at the shore and boat docks. The smear of moonlight on the water and the feel of Ezra wrapped around me, hugging me tight, leaning on me like he’s mine to hold. Like we’re a couple.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asks softly.

I smile. “Feeling like we’re a couple,” I confess.

“We are. You’re my Miller.” He hugs me tighter. “I can’t let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

His cheek presses against my shoulder. “You’ve gotta tell me if it gets to be too much.”

“If what does?”

I can feel him exhale slowly. “Me.”

I lace my fingers through the hand I’ve been massaging. “You could never be too much. Could never be anything but just right. Everything that I was wanting but I didn’t even know it. Never let myself think of it. I figured I wouldn’t find someone till I left Fairplay. If then. Last time I saw Arnie, he told me he’shooking up with lots of people up at Bama. One-after-the-other style. I didn’t want that. Never have. Does that sound stupid?” I ask in a burst of insecurity.

“Of course not.” He hugs me closer. Inhales...lets the breath out. “I don’t want that either.” He looks behind us. “You think anybody’s around?”

“Nah.”

His eyes find mine, and they look wide, maybe uncertain. “You care if I use your lap as my pillow?”

“Go for it.”

He does. He lies down so he’s looking up at me, and I start playing with his hair the way I know he likes. Just these light tugs, and then massaging his head with my fingertips.

He takes my other arm and wraps it around him.

“Noticed no nightmares again last night,” I whisper.

He smiles up at me—a gentle little smile. “You’re good for me.”

“I don’t think I do much.”

“You do so much,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my leg. He likes to hold onto me.

“My mom’s religious,” he says softly, after some time. “She can’t find out.”

“About us?” I ask. “Or about you?”

“Either,” he says.

“You mean ever—or like, near future?”

“Ever.” It sounds so definitive,I’m surprised.

“You still talk to her and stuff?”I ask him.

“No.” His eyes shut as he says it.

---