Page 25 of Danger Close
“It never is.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, Marsh sighed and crossed his arms.“We fought.Ricky and I.When you left.He went cold on all of us and I—I blew up.Told him if he didn’t want to be here, he should leave.That very night he did.Disappeared for three months.Ghosted every contact I tried to make with him.And I—I carry the weight of guilt for that.”
Ezra’s jaw tensed.“He ghosted the team because I left.”
Marsh shook his head.“He ghosted because he was bleeding and hurt, and he didn’t know where to put it.”
Ezra swallowed the guilt rising up his throat like bile.“That’s on me.”
Marsh studied him.“You’re right, it is.But if you want him to stop disappearing?Start showing him where to land.”
Ezra nodded once.“I will.”
Later that afternoon, Ezra stood in front of Blake’s door, his finger hovering over the final digit of his code but he didn’t have to press it.
The door hissed open mid-input, and Blake stood there with one brow raised and a crooked smile on his lips.He was barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, a toddler toy clutched in one hand.
“You didn’t mess up the drip again, did you?”he asked dryly, moving back from the doorframe.
Ezra stepped in, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.“No.But I’m gonna mess something up tonight if I don’t do this right.”
Blake’s smile faded into something softer, more alert.He followed him into the living space, dropped the toy onto the counter, and turned with his arms crossed.
“Talk to me.”
So, he did.
He laid it out, stripped of charm or misdirection.No sedative tonight.A full pot of coffee—strong enough to scrape paint.He was going to stay awake.No excuses.No false starts.Just him, sitting in that infirmary bed, waiting for Ricky Bowen to walk through the door again.
He had something to say.
And he wasn’t going to miss the moment this time.
Blake blinked once.Then, pulled him in for a hug without a word.
His hug was tight and clean, all the weight of two lifetimes packed into one gesture.He held on like someone who knew exactly what broken hearts felt like—and what it meant to fight for them.
“You already nailed the hard part,” he said into his shoulder.“You survived.You got the list out.You held on and we will find Van’s girl and bring her home.”
Ezra huffed a sound, “Sophia.Her name is Sophia.”
Blake smiled.“Beautiful name.We will bring Sophia home and she will grow up with Ryan and Celia, and they will all be the very best of friends.”
Ezra swallowed.“I know.But this—this is different.I need to tell him why and there are a few things I need to say to him.I need him to sit still long enough so he will hear it.”
He leaned back and brushed the edge of his fringe off his forehead like Ezra was one of his own.“He will.You’ve got him on the hook, Ez.He’s just not sure if he’s allowed to reel you in.”
Ezra let out a shaky breath.“I don’t think that’s how fishing works.”
Blake rolled his eyes.“Don’t care, you get what I mean.Now, let’s stack the odds in your favor, then.”
Blake dug out the kettle, filled it with water from a filtered tap, clicked it on.Ezra found the French press and an old tin of coffee grounds that smelled like gunpowder and midnight.They worked in silence.
Ezra stared out the window toward the trees that marked the boundary lines between areas of the Ridge.Somewhere out there, Ricky was probably pacing the south field, burning daylight into sweat, trying to keep his edges sharp enough to hold him together.
Ezra got it.They’d both been blades for too long.Now ...he just wanted to be human again.
