Violence (Antihero Inferno #3) - Lily White Page 0,66
bed, pull the pillow up to my body and wrap my arms around it.
The first thought in my head is how slimy William Cross is, but I force that one out of mind since he’s the last face I want to see right now.
I can’t stand him, and the two hours I spent in his house left me feeling just as slimy as him.
Unfortunately, that just leaves me open for new thoughts to roll in, mostly of the twins, specifically of Ezra.
I can’t look at him without tears burning at the back of my eyes, can’t talk to him without fighting, can’t touch him and hold on to my sanity.
It only makes it worse to have Damon looking at me like I’m his world, the playful parts of him coming out while he hides the anger I know is inside him. I want all his playful parts, want all his smiles and all his energy. But not in the way he wants to give them to me.
Judging by the way Ezra kept flicking quick glances at his brother, he knows what Damon is thinking as well, and he doesn’t like it.
Which leaves me stuck in place.
How do you friendzone one brother while doing your best not to cling to the other?
How do you forget that you were the person who created such a fucked-up situation to begin with?
I was only having fun. I was following the rules and the agreement, yet somehow I still ended up royally screwing them both over without ever meaning to.
Those are the memories assaulting me now while tears stream down my face, and my body curls into a ball. I left them to protect them. To keep them together. To ensure their relationship didn’t suffer the consequences of my bad decisions and stupid behavior.
I must have cried myself to sleep at some point, or maybe into some halfway state where I’m only partially aware of my door pushing open, a thin stream of light rushing into the darkness before I’m bathed in shadow again.
It isn’t until the mattress dips down behind me and a familiar heat impacts my back that I fully wake up.
My heart is shattering as a set of strong arms wrap around me, my eyes burning with more tears as a large body presses against me. My breath leaks out on one slow, shuddering exhale as a warm cheek presses against mine, and I can feel the heat of Ezra’s breath.
Don’t ask me how I know it’s him. I just do. You always know when the person you belong to is in close proximity. Always know when the person who destroys you is holding you tight.
We’re both still and silent for several minutes, the tension from being together warring against the relief we feel for the exact same thing.
It’s like a rubber band that has been stretched for almost a decade, tight and burdensome, threatening to break and snap back at any second from the miles that existed between us. And now it’s relaxed, the threat of damage gone because the distance is absent.
Only what new damage are we facing by being like this?
I want to tell him to leave.
I should tell him to leave.
But I can’t find the willpower to do it.
Instead, I state the obvious.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I fight back more tears.
“I know.”
Ezra’s voice is just as soft, but it’s so deep that it sinks inside me to weave through my veins, knotting up until I’m nothing but a tangled mess.
Everything he says, every look he gives me, every touch I’m lucky enough to feel is absorbed so deep that I’m practically drowning in this man when we’re together and empty when we’re apart.
Even now, my body is trembling, and so is his, both of us desperate to continue clinging on while knowing we’ll walk away again.
Because we have to walk away, only he does so angry and hurt and betrayed, while I do it to protect him.
It’s torture.
Pure, painful and never-ending.
It’s hell, with my heart being torn out and my soul ripped apart.
It’s why this can’t be happening, why I need to get out of this bed and stay as far away from Ezra as possible.
I wiggle in place to pull away from him, my butt tight against his hips when he reaches down to grip my waist and hold me still.
“Don’t move, Em. Just stay still a little longer.”