by T. L. Keary
All of my instincts are at war right now. Hope and elation but also fear and distrust.
I barely catch the declaration of yes behind my teeth before it can come jumping out.
“I promise, no cops,” Ezra says, as if he can read my mind. “Just me, just you, so we can talk about things.”
I mull it over for a minute, considering all the angles. Weighing my own ability to slip away if he’s lying.
It’s worth the risk.
“Okay,” I say.
I hear a rush of air, and I can just picture the smile that’s filling his beautiful face. He has the best smile in the world.
“Okay,” he says, and I can even hear that smile when he speaks. “Tomorrow about eleven? They’re keeping an eye on me, but I’m sure I can slip away when I get to the jobsite, and I can take one of the work trucks so they won’t realize.”
“Okay,” I say again, the smile growing bigger on my face.
He rattles off a location and I scramble to grab the hotel stationery and pen to write it down.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ezra says, and I know I’m not mistaken in hearing the hope in his voice.
“Okay,” I say once more.
He hangs up.
I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Could this really happen? Could Ezra really love me, as me?
Does he finally see all the sacrifices I’ve made for him?
A spike of adrenaline sits me straight up in bed. I scramble for the envelope of money in the dresser drawer and pull the sun hat over my head. I grab my room key and step out the door.
I aim for the pharmacy at the end of the block, two identical items on my shopping list.
I’m taking precautions.
I do my hair up, all of it hidden under my hat. I wear big sunglasses. I take the bus and I memorize all the bus times and stops within a five-block radius from our meeting point. I have an escape destination in mind. I have my very few possessions with me, packed in a backpack that I can run with, if necessary.
My bullet wounds won’t make it easy to run, but I can block out the pain to get away.
I step off the bus in Woodinville. I have a two-block walk before the high school comes in to view.
We’re meeting at the stands of the football stadium. Technically, it’s a public place, but being as it’s July, we should have the place to ourselves.
There are two cars in the entire parking lot of the school. I walk past them, past the school. There’s a big fence that surrounds the stadium, but the gate is wide open. I step through and walk along the side of the bleachers.
When I turn the corner, I stop in my tracks.
About a third of the way down, sits Ezra.
He stands the moment he sees me, his lips parted, his eyes wide. He looks nervous.
But he is alone.
I didn’t see any signs of police in the loop I took around this block. As I scan the field and the bleachers, I don’t see anyone around.
There are a few security cameras around, but even from here I can tell they’re old. None of them will be able to get our faces in any kind of detail.
I step forward, hesitantly walking to the bleachers. I climb the stairs and then walk down the row.
I stop five feet from him.
“Hi, Ez,” I say, my voice coming out quiet.
He doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain fixed on me, his mouth still open slightly. Like he can’t quite believe I’m real.
I take my sunglasses off, and I look at him with my own brown eyes.
He keeps looking at me, blinking, staring.
I take the hat off, and immediately his eyes jump to my hair, to the dark root growth.
I try to read his eyes right now, to tell what he’s thinking. But all I can read is surprise? Shock? I really don’t know.
“Do you hate me?” I ask, my voice threatening to crack.
Ezra’s eyes return to mine and in them, I see an emotion. I see his eyes lighten.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know how I feel, Sawyer.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I mean…Charity.” He opens his eyes again and then there is emotion welling there. “I don’t…I don’t know what to call you.”
“You can call me whatever you want,” I say, and emotion threatens to crack my voice. “Just so long as you don’t hate me, Ez.”
Ezra takes a ragged breath in, his eyes drifting off and he shakes his head. His hand comes to cover his mouth and he stares off at nothing for a long time.
“I did this because I love you, Ez,” I finally say, voicing the words I’ve kept inside for so many years. “I tried and I tried for years, but I saw how much you still loved her, even though she didn’t look back even once. I couldn’t stand that your heart was so broken. I just wanted to make you happy.”
His eyes drift over to me again, but I still can’t read his expression.
“You loved her so much, and all I ever wanted was to see what that felt like,” I say, taking one step closer. “I wanted you to see someone else, to see me, right in front of you. But Sawyer had done her damage. I just wanted to see you happy again.”
“Charity, I…” he starts. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head again. “I didn’t…I didn’t see you. I couldn’t see anyone. My heart was shattered. When Sawyer left…”
“I know,” I say gently, nodding my head.
Once more, he stares at nothing. “I remember you. Being there. I remember your smile. But I…”
Ezra had always been kind. He had always been polite. But I knew it. He didn’t see me. I was out of his mind as soon as he walked away.
“What you did for me is…” His eyes slide back over to me, and in them, I now see a hint of appreciation. “It’s kind of incredible. I don’t know that I could ever be that selfless. So…thank you.”
I feel overrun with emotions. Hope, elation, surprise.
“You’re welcome,” I manage to breathe out.
But then the look on his face darkens, and my stomach immediately sinks.
“They’re telling me some things though,” Ezra says. I take a step back and then sink onto the hot metal bench. “That you did. To Sawyer. To Davis.”
“Ez,” I say, my tone careful. “I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. My hands are clean. I was just trying to protect you. You’d been so happy and I’d worked so hard. I just didn’t want them to ruin it for you.”
Emotions well in his eyes and he shakes his head as he looks away from me. He fidgets with his hands, pressing his fist into his palm and twisting it back and forth, over and over. Then both his hands rise up into his hair, his fingers knotting into it.
He’s breathing hard.
I swear, he’s in agony.
“Please don’t hate me, Ez,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “I just wanted to make you happy.”
A sob suddenly darts out from between his teeth and when I look at him, I’m completely shattered. His face is red, his expression scrunched up as he tries to control it.
“That’s the thing,” he says without looking at me. “I was happy. The happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. Everything…everything was perfect.”
I hate seeing him hurt like this. But I grasp on to what I can, knowing I have to fight harder than I ever have yet. “Our time together, me, you, us, that wasn’t made up, Ezra. That was real. That was me. And you.”
Another sob rips from Ezra and this time he turns away from me, his fingers laced behind his head. Another agonized sound comes from him, his shoulders shaking as he turns his face up to the sky.
“I could see it all,” he says, his words thick. “A couple more weeks and I was going to buy a ring. A couple of months and everyone would finally get over themselves and we could get married. We could start a family right away. And we could move on with our lives, the way I’d always wanted.”
His words grow quieter as he speaks, and the shaking in his shoulders lessens.
He doesn’t turn around to f
ace me just yet, though.
“What if we just skip all the middle part?” I ask. My voice shakes. My stomach quivers.
Slowly, Ezra turns, his eyes meeting mine. There’s confusion there.
My entire body is trembling as I take a step forward. “I…I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I tell him, convincing even myself of my words. “Our time together was amazing. But there’s always, always a risk I guess.”
Slowly, Ezra’s eyes widen as he realizes.
“I’m pregnant, Ez,” I say. And I can’t help the small smile that begins to grow on my face with the words.
His eyes grow wider, his shoulders dropping away from his ears.
I bite my lower lip, taking one step forward as I take my backpack off my shoulder. I unzip it and pull out the new box and the already taken pregnancy test. “I know you probably think I’m lying or just trying to get you back. But I bought a second test, and you can watch me take it right now if you want.”
“Yes,” he says, without hesitating. “Let’s take it. Now.”
I nod. And I incline my head toward the end of the bleachers. “Come on. Down there, where no one will see.”
He follows me, and I make sure to listen to his movements, gauge if he’s going to try anything with my back turned.
But he only follows me down to the end of the bleachers and then underneath them.
I’d say it’s humiliating, peeing on a stick in front of someone you love. But I’d do so much more for Ezra. I don’t want there to be any doubt in his mind. I need him to be one-hundred-percent sure.
He sees it, clear as day, as I pee on that pregnancy test. He watches as I cap it and set it aside as I pull my pants up.
Silently, we wait the few minutes for it to work.
The thought hit me like the entire weight of the Space Needle yesterday after his call.
It had been more than two weeks since our wild weekend camping. A test would show positive by this point.
I’d run to the pharmacy and bought two tests. One to check myself.
Another to prove it to Ezra.
“Holy shit,” Ezra breathes as he looks at the test. His eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open. He grabs it, holding it closer as he reads it again.
“It’s yours,” I say. “I can promise you that.”
Ezra looks over at me, his mouth wide, searching for words. He blinks, twice, three times.
“You’re…you’re…” But he loses his words in his shock.
“I’m pregnant with your son or daughter, Ez,” I say. A small, bashful but happy smile pulls on my lips.
Still in disbelief, he looks back down at the test again.
“I know I messed things up,” I say, taking one step toward him. And I count it as a victory when he doesn’t step away. “But this could be real. This…we could have a family, Ezra. Me and you, and our baby.”
He just keeps staring at that test, like the one word is going to change and tell him everything he should do, scream at him that this is reality.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I reach up and gently grab his arm, holding on to him. “I just wanted you to be happy.”
As if snapping back into reality, he steps away from me. He walks forward five steps to the end of the bleachers. He stops, and looks back at me.
“I need to think about some things, Charity,” he says. Once more, his expression is unreadable. “I… I need a couple of days.”
Cold fear drops in my stomach. But I nod. “Okay.” The word barely comes out audible.
“I’ll meet you back here on Thursday, okay?” he says.
I hate that I can’t tell if he’s lying. His eyes are guarded now. I can’t read him any easier than I can read the wall behind me.
“Okay,” is all I can say.
Without one single word more, he turns, and I watch as he walks away, turning behind the building, and disappearing with that pregnancy test in his hand.
I know I should get out of here as fast as possible.
But I stand here, frozen. Rooted.
I told Ezra the truth. Every word I spoke was the truth.
And now he knows everything he should. How I feel. What I’ve done for his happiness. What the future could be.
He knows about his child.
So for now, what else can I do, but wait and see what he chooses for our future?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sawyer
A warm arm is wrapped around my middle, another arm is under my head and I use it as a pillow. The blankets are pulled off both of us, leaving only the sheet covering half of me. It was hot last night. It had been the hottest day of the year so far. The fan still spins above our heads.
Frantic knocking on the door rips me from sleep. Davis immediately sits up in bed, wincing in pain.
Through the house, we hear the officer tread. We both sit up, poised, waiting.
“It’s Ezra,” the officer says through the house.
A breath of relief escapes Davis’ lips. He looks back and places a hand on my ankle, a simple message, stay here unless I give you a signal. He slides off the bed, wearing only his boxers and heads out the door.
I scramble from the bed, pulling on clothes, running my fingers through my hair as I yank it up into a ponytail. I go back to the door, cracking it just slightly so that I can see and hear.
“You okay?” Davis asks. He stands in the middle of the living room, his arms folded across his chest. Ezra paces back and forth. His eyes keep drifting back to Davis.
“Am I okay?” Ezra asks in a mocking tone. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
“Your immature shit is getting really old, Ez,” Davis says. I can hear the tired patience in his voice.
Ezra just gives a huff, but he finally stops. His eyes are fixed on Davis and I see the muscles in his jaw clench and tighten as he looks at his brother.
“What are you looking at?” Davis asks with impatience.
“I just…I just need to see it,” Ezra says, his tone rising, getting loud and frustrated, but like he’s frustrated at himself.
“See what?” Davis demands.
“What she did,” Ezra says, his tone falling quiet and exhausted. “If…if it’s as bad as everyone makes it out to be. If…” He shakes his head, his fingers lacing back into his hair. “I need to see what she did.”
Davis looks at his brother for a long moment. I’m not close enough to see the expression in his eyes. I’m not sure what I’d find there right now.
But he lifts his arms, spreading them wide. Ezra’s eyes slip down, and slowly, Davis turns in a circle.
I know exactly what Ezra is seeing.
Davis’ entire left side is still covered in yellow and green bruises. It isn’t too hard to figure out where the broken ribs are. There’s a huge bruise across his chest from the seatbelt. The cuts on his face that required stitches are nearly healed, he’s getting them removed in two days.
He actually looks a lot better than he did last week, even better than two weeks ago.
But still, the evidence of how Charity tried to kill him is plenty obvious.
“You saw my truck,” Davis says as he drops his arms, folding them over his chest once more. “It’s totaled. I’ve been planning to go buy a new one, but the officers won’t let me go anywhere but work and home and the grocery store.”
I see Ezra glance over to the officer who is standing in the kitchen, keeping a watchful eye.
I know Ezra has his own officer standing out on the porch, waiting to go wherever Ezra is going.
“What about Sawyer?” Ezra asks. But the way he says my name, it’s like it sticks in his throat and makes his stomach roll. “She seems fine.”
“You really don’t know what Charity tried to do to her?” Davis asks, shaking his head. “Besides stealing her face and her entire life?”
Ezra shoots a dark look at his brother. But he takes two steps away, setting his hand on the black mantle above the fireplace. “I think they tried to
explain it that first day, but I wasn’t…I didn’t hear much of anything then.”
Davis nods and there’s a change in his body language that I can see. Something lightens on his shoulders; I see compassion in him. I see a big brother.
“Look, I wasn’t here for most of it,” Davis says. His tone is low, gentle. “It would be best if she explained it to you.”
I don’t miss the darkness in Ezra’s eyes when they look up and down Davis, standing there in nothing but his underwear, before rising back up to meet Davis’. “She’s here.”
Davis doesn’t jump down his throat. He answers with patience. “You need to realize. Charity took everything of Sawyer’s. She moved Sawyer out of her own apartment, took every single thing Sawyer owned. The police haven’t released anything back to Sawyer yet. She had to stay somewhere.”
Goosebumps flash across my skin. I realize what’s coming. I’m going to have to go out there and face Ezra.
But all I feel toward him is pity and hatred, and it’s hard to face anyone with either of those emotions.
“I don’t want to see her,” Ezra says.
Davis doesn’t back down. “But you need to face the reality of what happened.”
There’s another moment of quiet. And there’s nothing in particular that breaks it. Davis simply looks toward the door I’m hiding behind, and our eyes meet.
I take two seconds, two breaths.
I didn’t do anything wrong. And if there’s anything I can do to help Ezra move on with his life, I’ll do it.
I step out. I walk down the hall toward the living room.
Ezra’s eyes lock on me the second I step inside.
We had nine months of history. Some of the most memorable time of people’s lives is their senior year of high school.
Ezra and I had a lot of great times together.
But we were kids then.
That was thirteen years ago.
