Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
He’d never wear those again. Were they even here? He doubted it.
“I told you not to go there,” Frank mumbled as if that was any excuse for what hid in the underbelly of his junkyard.
“To trick me into—” Ezra choked up, not wanting to finish that sentence, because it ended with falling for you.
He’d already fallen for Frank, like the sucker that he so clearly was. He’d made Frank fucking pancakes and sorted his receipts, happily simmering in Frank’s attention like a slow-boiled frog while that monster chopped up all its siblings into little pieces.
“It wasn’t my intention to trick you into anything. I meant everything I said to you. But… I understand how you must feel. I’ve covered your treatment, and I’m keeping watch so you’re safe here. We’ll go home when you’re ready, and once you’re healed, and Paul is dealt with, you’ll be free to do what you need to do.”
Home. As if Ezra could call Frank’s house that.
It was a prison he might never leave. And what guarantee did he have that Frank would keep his promise and deal with Paul? He might as well keep him as the boogey man and trap Ezra indefinitely. Until loneliness and fear melted whatever resolve Ezra had right now.
“My treatment?”
Frank sighed. “You have two broken ribs, a broken finger and arm. And you needed stitches. But you were lucky to have no internal organ injury,” he added as if any of this could be considered lucky.
Ezra’s mind buzzed, and his good hand rose, touching the thick layer of gauze and bandage on his face. “Stitches?”
“The car that fell on you… It was old, had lots of sharp metal bits, it cut you real bad, but didn’t break your jaw, and your teeth are fine, just… the nose,” Frank’s voice became quieter as if he knew damn well how much load his words carried.
Even the memories from the container were becoming blurry when Ezra’s mind melted under the weight of these revelations. His face had to be stitched up? And his nose? The fuck had happened to his nose?
The beeping sped up, and Frank rose, trying to hold his hand again, but Ezra pulled away, looking around as his weakened muscles gained strength. “Mirror… I need to see.”
“Sweetie, there’s nothing to see just yet, you need to keep the bandages on.”
That meant it was bad.
“Don’t fucking call me ‘sweetie’!” Ezra snapped.
Frank wrapped his hands on his nape and paced away. “I’ve had my nose broken, and everything healed well. You just need the time to recover.”
“It’s over. My life is over,” Ezra muttered and fell back as if someone had dropped a lead ball straight onto his injured chest. What was he supposed to do now? And with a fucked-up face? Who’d want his expertise regarding skincare when he had scars everywhere and a crooked nose? Who would now want him as arm candy?
Frank scooted next to the bed, as if making himself smaller was supposed to help somehow. “Hardly. This is just a bump in your road. You’ll use your creams and everything will heal nicely.”
“I want to see,” Ezra said through clenched teeth.
“What’s the point, Ezra? There’s stitches, everything is bruised and tender. You’ll only get yourself nervous. Let it heal a little.”
Ezra shut his eyes, sucking in warm air that somehow smelled of Frank, and despite all the revelations about him, that musky yet fresh scent still put him at ease.
He was fucked up.
“Fine. There’s always plastic surgery, right?”
“I’m sure you won’t need it. You’ve got your natural beauty.” Frank smiled at him with affection, as if he wasn’t staring at a mummy. “The doctors did a real good job on your cheek. In a few months, no one will be able to tell it was cut open, I’m sure of it.”
He might have as well shoved Ezra out of bed, onto the hard floor. Or straight to hell.
“Cut. Open. Like I’m some fucking Joker? But only one cheek, so a joke. That’s what I am now.”
But nothing could be done at the moment. Ezra couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone run, and he was still in danger because of a lunatic who wanted him dead. And in love with a man who only got rid of bodies.
What else could go fucking wrong?
Frank got up. “Do you… want alone time? I could go.”
This.
Exactly this could go wrong.
Ezra stared at him, going stiff. “You’re going to leave me? After all of this?” he rasped, his insides twisting with shame, because after giving Frank a lecture, here he was, begging for his protection.
It was pathetic.
He was pathetic.
Maybe he should be glad Frank had even bothered bringing him here instead of doing what any rational killer would and getting rid of the witness straight away.
Frank hesitated but then once more reached out to Ezra, leaving the ball in his court. “I’ll keep watch. You can rest. Ezra… I’m really sorry. I wanted you to have more options.”