He steps closer to me and kisses my forehead. “I’m going to get out of this suit.”
It’s not the right time to wonder if I still love him or if I’m falling in love with him. What if? “Are we back to being codependent on each other?”
He halts, looks over his shoulder, and answers, “No.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t think we were ever codependent. You say that when we were together, you steered cleared from drugs because I was your drug. I don’t think that was exactly it. I believe that when we were together, we just felt complete. Neither one of us needed more than, well, us.”
I show him an open palm. “Stop using reason, Killion.”
“Why?”
“It’s much simpler to think that we were bad for each other,” I answer.
He tilts his head, crossing his arms. “Were we?”
“I’m not sure, but following your logic, I’ll have to reevaluate everything I know.”
He doesn’t say anything and leaves me standing and wondering about our relationship. From what he’s saying, I can no longer say I hated that he hid me.
That’s all I think about when I discuss my relationship with him. Now, I’ll have to say that it was painful for both of us that he couldn’t be himself, and I loved the peace he brought to my soul.
“The helicopter is ready on the tower. Let’s go, Z.” His smile, the calm in his eyes, everything just soothes me.
Yeah, I’m definitely falling in love with him all over again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zeke
It takes me another week to gather enough courage to go into my childhood house. It’s a Friday morning, right after my therapy session, when I conclude that I have to confront that part of my life or I’m going to plateau.
Though I’m ready, I’d rather have someone with me. Hannah is a great option, except she left for Colorado last night. I love Tucker, but he’s as sensitive as a hyena. The guy will be laughing at embarrassing pictures of me instead of holding me while I’m trying not to fall apart.
In the end, I decide to contact Ethan, even though we’ve been avoiding each other for the past week. That day at his house, at the studio…things were too intense between us. Well, it was the music. The fire that flowed through my veins toward my heart and was released by my soul in infinite notes.
Loss, love, and lust mixed into melodies that we might never play again.
Maybe that’s our story summed up into words—the three L’s. The order doesn’t matter. It is the combination of the three that keeps us apart and together. The ambiguity doesn’t go unnoticed.
We spent the most exhausting, intense, and draining day of the year together.
It wasn’t only the fact that I assumed responsibility for my parents’ assets and, in some way, became an adult. It also has to do with the day I spent with Ethan and all the emotions we dealt with. At the end of the day, I slept like I haven’t in a long time. It was as if I had a long, extenuating workout. This weekend might be the same.
What are the chances that if he agrees to come with me to my childhood home, we won’t bring up our past? Probably slim, but he’ll do something that’ll set my heart on fire.
One day, when I finish processing all the emotions that I repressed throughout my childhood, I might start tackling Ethan.
It’s not that I hadn’t discussed him before with my therapist when I thought he was just a fucking asshole. Now, there’s a lot more I have to uncover.
At least Ethan and I are in a good place.
We’re not at a point where we can say that we’re best friends. However, we are in a place where I can reach out and say, “I need a friend.”
So, after meditating, going to the gym, and practicing yoga, I call him. I expect to get his voice mail. Instead, after the second ring, he answers with a weary voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah?” I answer, confused as to why he’s worried. “I’m fine. I was expecting your voice mail.”
“I wouldn’t send you to voice mail. What’s happening?”
“We can talk later when you’re not working,” I insist.
“Zeke, you’re more important than work.” Those words hit me right in the chest and the groin. Really. His commanding voice and sweet words are a turn-on for me. “What’s happening, babe?”
Babe? Okay, now he just wants me to march to his office and claim him. Which I won’t. This is about getting my life in order before I can think of getting a boyfriend like him—or him.
“I want to visit my parents’ place.” I let out the words as I let out my next breath.
“Give me a second,” he mumbles.
“Gentlemen, I have a family emergency. Let’s reconvene next week at the same time.” I hear his muffled voice before he asks, “Where are you?”
“Still at my place. You really don’t have to—”
“I want to do it. We know this is taking an emotional toll on you. If you feel like today is the day, let’s do it now. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
I take a quick shower, put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and my industrial boots. Seven minutes after I hung up with him, I’m outside my building waiting for him. A sleek magnetic silver Aston Martin DB11 stops right in front of me.
Ethan looks hot wearing a pair of aviator glasses and a dark blue suit that fits him like a glove. He gets out of the car, opens the passenger door, and says, “Hey.”
“Are you flirting again, Killion?”
He pushes back his sunglasses and winks at me. “Is it working?”
I glance at him and shake my head. “You overdressed for the occasion.”
“Just for you, babe.”
I lean forward and kiss his cheek. “It’s not working, but I appreciate the distraction.”
“You can’t blame me for trying,” he states, closing the passenger door and jogging around the car to get inside.
I’m tempted to ask if we can take my Jeep instead, but I don’t. I have to let go of my obsessions, like not letting others drive for me. When he stops at a traffic light, he turns to look at me and says, “This is how I dress for work. You should try to buy a pair of dress pants since you’re going back to work soon.”
You know what I should do?
I should visit him more often at work. He looks hot as fuck. Plus, that fantasy of having him in his office has been playing in my head ever since he showed me the place.
Focus on the house and forget how much you’d like to fuck him.
“Maybe I should buy myself one of those jackets with elbow pads.”
“You’re going to be a kindergarten teacher, not an old college professor.”
“Can you imagine how much action I’ll get wearing a pair of jeans and the jacket?” I laugh when he groans. “If anything, I could always go back to school and get another degree.”
“Stick with one thing before you change careers. When do you start teaching?”
He asks the most challenging question in the world. Not because I’m not excited about teaching but because I have to quit the flower shop.