Ezra
I’m exhausted, but I can’t seem to shut off my brain long enough to fall asleep. It’s been happening quite a lot lately, or I’ll fall asleep, and jump awake again minutes later.
I look over at the time on the nightstand—three o’clock in the morning. I sigh and look over at Damien, who was sound asleep beside me. He’s lying on his front, facing me. He looks perfect even when he’s sleeping. I keep recalling his conversation with Haylee earlier on. I’m unsure if he knows I heard what he told her about me; if he did, he didn’t let it be known. Was he just telling us both what we needed to hear?
God, I’m so in love with him. I wish he could see how happy I could make him if he just let me. But he won’t because he doesn’t think he deserves to be loved. It's almost as if he’s punishing himself by denying himself any happiness.
I reach out and brush my fingers along his jaw. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, so his usual stubble has grown into a short, well-kept beard, which I love. It makes him look older and even sexier. He stirs in his sleep, lifts his arm, wraps it around me, and tugs me closer against him. We were both still naked from our sex session earlier on.
I hate that I have no might to resist him. My head and my heart are at war with one another, and I’m stuck in between, unsure of what to do.
I feel that damned lump forming in my throat, and my eyes burn. Oh god, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry… Ezra, no…don’t. I silence the whimper that escapes me with my hand. I peel Damien’s arm off me carefully.
Sneaking out of bed, I grab Damien’s shirt and tiptoe out of the bedroom. I close the door quietly and walk toward the balcony. I pull his shirt on, it smells just like him, and it makes me ache deeply. Coco hears me approaching and sits up from her bed. I slide the door open and step outside. She follows me, and when I slide down against the wall sobbing, she lays her head on my shoulder and whines.
I honestly don’t know how much more I can take. I have never felt so lost in my life. This whole thing is so unhealthy and toxic—I need to get out. I need to find the courage to walk away from this situation we’re both trapped in. I look up at the darkened sky and sigh. It’s now or never, Ezra. If you don’t leave now, you will never do it. Go!
I’m so torn. I love him so much I can’t bear to walk away from him.
He doesn’t love you! He never will; he’s playing with you. You’re only good for one thing, sex, that’s it. How many times does he have to keep telling you before you get it?
“He’s not capable of loving me, and I deserve better than this. I’m Ezra Quintero, damn it. I’m not nobody’s doormat.” I whisper, wiping away my tears. “I have to stop kidding myself and silently hoping that he will one day love me back.” Coco licks my tears and whines again.
I pull back and look at her; reaching up, I scratch her head. “I have to go, Coco. Look after him for me, okay?” I tell her, and she blinks at me and tilts her head. I get up off the floor and walk back in as quietly as I possibly can. “Bed, Coco,” I order her, and she looks up at me but doesn’t move. “Bed now,” I whisper, pointing, and she groans in response. I lock the balcony door and walk back to the bedroom.
Damien is still asleep in the same position I left him. He’s a light sleeper, so I need to be careful not to make any noise. I grab a pair of jeans, my shoes and pull them on quietly. I tuck Damien’s shirt in the jeans and pick up my denim jacket. I tiptoe around the bed and look at his gun sitting on the nightstand.
With trembling fingers, I pick it up, my eyes on Damien the entire time. I pick up a pen and write a note for him on the notepad he keeps by the bed. I slide off my ring and set it on the note. I glance at him once more, and my heart constricts. “I love you,” I whisper one last time and leave the room.
Coco was sat by the bedroom door and looked up at me when I walk out. I lean over and rub her head. “I love you, too, girl. Please keep him safe. Stay.” I kiss her head and get up. I tuck the gun in my purse and walk to the coffee table where I left my cell phone. I pick it up and slide it into my back pocket.
One final glance back at the bedroom door, I walk to the front door. I look down at Coco, who had followed me to the door. I open the door and sneak out, closing it quietly behind me and wait for it to click shut before I run down the corridor toward the elevator.
I push the button to the elevator a couple of times and look down the passage, terrified Damien will notice I was gone, or Coco will wake him, and he will catch me.
The elevator dings, and I wait a couple of seconds, a stupid part of me wishing he would come barreling out the door and scream for me to stop and beg me not to leave him…but he doesn’t.
I walk into the elevator and push the button to the ground floor. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the damn tears or the ache in my heart that was choking the life out of me, which grew more and more the closer I got to the ground floor. I keep wondering if he will be upset to see I left, or he will sigh in relief that he finally got rid of me. Will it hurt him as much it is me? Will he miss me like I already do him? The elevator dings when it hits the ground floor, and I walk out toward the concierge desk.
“Good Morning, Mrs. Wolfe. How can I help you?” Gilbert greets me when I walk over to the desk. He looks surprised and uncomfortable after taking one look at my tear-stained face.
“Is there any way I can get a cab?” He frowns but nods.
“Um, yes, I can get you a car, but Mr. Wolfe said—”
“—Mr. Wolfe is well aware that I am leaving.” I tell him, and he looks skeptical but nods, nonetheless.
“All right. Well, there are always cars outside the building. They will take you wherever you need to go.” He informs me politely.
“Thank you, Gilbert,” I say gratefully and walk toward the exit. I stop before walking out and look back at the elevators once more.
It’s over, Ezra. Just go and don’t look back. He’s not going to come running after you.
I force myself and my broken heart to walk out of the building to the waiting car. Lifting my gaze to the building one last time, I get in the car, and we drive away.
“Where to Miss?” The driver asks as I stare out of the window. Where the hell am I supposed to go? There was only one place I could go. The only person I trust. Jordin.
“Upper east side. West eighty-first street.” I take out my cellphone and dial her number. Please, pick up, please pick up.