Page 28 of Danger Close
“All right,” he said quietly.“That’s a start, I guess.”
Ezra’s swallowed hard.“But I did leave you that morning.No warning.No explanation.It must have felt like I treated what we had like it didn’t matter—like you didn’t matter.”
Ricky’s jaw clenched, but he nodded.
Ezra leaned forward.“That night, it wasn’t a regret for me.It wasn’t just comfort or adrenaline.It meant something.Youmeant something.”
He exhaled, slow.“I thought I could keep my world separate—grief, danger, feeling.But you ...you got under all of that.”Ezra’s expression was raw and open.“I’m not proud of what I did.But I’m here now, trying to put it right.Because the thing that hurts the most—more than the knife to the side, more than the chains—is knowing that my actions hurt you.And if I don’t fix that, then nothing I do next matters.”
Ricky’s chest tightened like something was wrapped around his ribs, squeezing.He wanted to speak—God, he wanted to—but his throat locked down around the ache.
Ezra shifted again, slow and stiff, sliding to the far side of the infirmary bed.He winced, then patted the space he’d cleared.“Come lie with me, baby.You look like you’re about to either run—and I’ll have to give chase—or beat the shit out of me, and I have to be honest.I’m not up to either at the moment.”
It was such an Ezra thing to say—honest, irreverent, just vulnerable enough to crack through all the walls.
And just like that, the edges softened.
Not gone.Not yet.
But they softened.
Ricky let out a slow breath and toed off his boots.Then, without a word, he climbed into the narrow bed, sliding his arm around his shoulder, fitting himself beside Ezra like he belonged there because maybe he always had.
Ezra eased back into his arms with a sigh that sounded like relief.His fingers found Ricky’s, twined them together against his stomach and lay his head on Ricky’s chest.
“I missed this,” Ezra whispered.
“Yeah,” Ricky murmured, pressing a kiss to Ezra’s temple.“Me, too.”
Ezra lifted his head, and Ricky met him halfway—mouths brushing, then deepening, the kiss slow and aching.It spoke of everything they hadn’t said and everything they still needed to.Passion, sorrow, longing.The sharp edges of regret dulled by the quiet promise of something better.
They didn’t speak after that.
They didn’t have to.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, heartbeat to heartbeat, they let sleep take them.Together.Safe.Sound.And home.
