Page 47 of They Call Me Wicked

“I can’t! I can’t look at you, Nana!” She advances on me and her hand grasps my chin, forcing my face up towards her. I do my best to point my eyes to where I think hers are, but I know it isn’t convincing. An unfocused gaze is obvious this close.

That’s when the tears finally come, their warmth leaving a trail down my icy skin.

“Dorothy!” My nana releases my face as a couple nurses enter the room and I stumble backwards, a strong set of arms plucking me from the air before I fall to my ass. Sobs burst from my throat as I let Ezra help right me on my feet while the nurses work on calming my nana down. When I feel steady enough, I simply turn around and walk through the exit, not exactly sure what to do with myself.

Ezra catches up with me and gently leads me by the elbow from the building and to his truck, opening the door for me. Gizmo and Snitch’s excited squeaks turn to worried ones as they pick up on my mood. After Ezra helps me into the passenger seat, I snuggle my little trash pandas and let their fur dry my tears as they love on me, their purrs of reassurance a balm to my aching heart.

I know Nana has been getting worse, but to witness the true extent of her disease is a whole other thing. I’ve seen her repeat the same conversation, ask the same question, or even forget where she’s at on many occasions. But I’ve never had to endure an episode quite like this before.

She didn’t recognize me, not even a little, and I can’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. It stung like a bitch.

Ezra hops into the driver’s side and starts the truck without a word. He has no judgments or questions for me. He doesn’t pry or pity. And it’s a fucking relief.

“Here,” his deep gravelly voice intones as his muted aura extends towards me. Holding my hand out, his large palms encompass mine, turning it until it’s palm side up. Gently placing the cool metal of what I recognize as my sunglasses into my hand, I grasp them instantly, shoving them back on my face to hide my scars from the world once more.

After riding in silence for far too long, I finally decide to break it, my hands stroking Gizmo and Snitch absently as they snuggle on my lap. “Sorry you had to witness that.”

“No need to be sorry,” Ezra replies, always the blunt one.

“It’s just a common courtesy to extend apologies when someone happens to witness your skeletons flying out of your closet.” He doesn’t say anything and I feel irritation creeping up on me. “Why are you so weird? Can’t you just…react like a human being?”

“How would you like me to react?” His voice is calm and unperturbed.

“I don’t fucking know!” I cross my arms over my chest as Gizmo and Snitch climb to the back of the truck.

“Okay.”

“Fine.” I huff out a breath as the seconds tick by quietly once more, each one pushing my brain further and further into madness until I think I might snap. “I slept with Kai!”

Woah, girly. Talk about a guilty conscience.

“Okay.” No flashes of judgment or jealousy or anger or…anything surfaces from within him. What the hell do I have to do to get a rise out of him?

“Are you, like, secretly a robot?” I ask, genuinely convinced he’s that or a fucking alien. No person alive has this much control over their emotions.

“No.”

“Do you feel stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…what are you feeling right now?” A moment passes, then two, then three. Then his touch is on my hand, sparks lighting up my nerve endings from where our skin meets.

His aura flashes quickly, and flashes again, switching, gliding and swirling with so many emotions that I can almost see them behind the darkness of my eyes.

Anger that my stalker got past him the other night and guilt for not catching him.

Attraction to my bullheaded nature.

Fear for my safety.

Sadness that I have to deal with so much.

Understanding about what I’m going through with my nana.

Determination to see this case through and keep me safe.

And so much more.

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