Page 23 of Grind
A cold sensation spread into Frank’s chest like an oil spill, paralyzing all logic. While Frank had never explicitly named his place of work, it would have been easy enough to figure out for anyone with some basic internet sleuthing skills. But why would Ezra come here unannounced? If he wanted to say his goodbyes in person for some misguided reason, he should have called. He’d been nothing but discreet and careful about respecting Frank’s boundaries, so his sudden presence made very little sense.
Frank huffed, but his instinct told him to move even though he was filthy and sweaty in a way Ezra wouldn’t appreciate.
“You know this person?” Jag asked, tailing Frank as soon as he started walking.
“Yeah.”
Jag shook his head. “Frank, how am I supposed to efficiently guard the perimeter if I don’t—”
“Just go to Dane,” Frank snarled at him in frustration. Something was wrong, and he didn’t have the energy for Jag’s complaints.
“I’m not leaving you. There could be danger.”
“Was he alone?”
“Yes.”
Frank sped up. “Then there is no danger!”
At least he hoped so.
A spark of hope lit in Frank’s dark heart. Maybe Ezra breaking the professional boundaries meant he didn’t want a professional relationship anymore. That he couldn’t part from Frank after all and his arrival was a grand gesture, which, while inappropriate, would have been very sweet.
Frank hated that his mind was playing such dirty tricks with him.
Unwilling to make Ezra wait any longer than necessary, he jogged toward the gate despite his muscles complaining after the earlier training. It took him five minutes to reach the main entrance into the scrapyard, but as he left behind the last bend on the way and moved toward the fence, he recognized that a vehicle was indeed waiting on the other side of the gate.
Maybe he should have dipped into the house and hosed himself down in the shower after all? He was sticky with grime and sweat and wouldn’t normally want to be seen like this. But if Ezra really was here because he’d changed his mind, maybe seeing Frank’s true form would have been the complete disillusionment he needed to move on? They would have never worked out.
Frank shook off all the doubts and approached, squinting in an effort to see the driver. But as he got close enough, the door of the black vehicle opened, releasing a figure so familiar Frank forgot to breathe for a moment too long. Ezra wore a sandy trench coat from some big-name fashion brand he’d once excitedly told Frank about, and was elegant as ever, but instead of playing it cool, he approached the gate and held on to the steel mesh, as if he was a prisoner hoping for freedom.
“Frank?”
Jag’s nearby presence was barbed wire preventing Frank from touching Ezra right away.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” he asked, already typing in the code that made the gate open. Between Jag and Ezra, he couldn’t have felt more self-conscious, but as soon as the steel door moved aside, Ezra slid past it to approach Frank.
But instead of leaping into Frank’s arms, he pushed his hands into his hair and tugged, uttering a breathless, “Fuck.”
Frank glanced back at Jag, his senses on high alert. The pallor of Ezra’s features was so stark in the lamplight. “Is this something you need to talk about in private?” he asked, nodding toward Jag.
Ezra swallowed, peeking Jag’s way before nodding. “It’s just… the car… it shouldn’t stay here,” he said stiffly as his gaze darted toward the dark woods beyond the fence.
Frank didn’t like the sound of this at all. “Okay,” he said and headed out to retrieve the vehicle, because whatever spooked Ezra so much was worth paying attention to.
Once he drove in, he opened the door for Ezra, while glancing to Jag. “Close the fence and stay alert. Don’t come over to mine unless absolutely necessary.”
Ezra hesitated before addressing Jag too. “Tell no one I came here, okay?” he asked before turning Frank’s way as he sank into the passenger seat. “Is that okay?”
“We’ll find out,” Frank said grimly and drove off, leaving Jag to it. As soon as they were in the privacy of the car, driving toward Frank’s home, he spoke again. “What’s going on? I didn’t expect you here.”
Not tonight, not ever, not when I look like shit, smell like a hog, and my house is a pigsty.
Ezra stretched his legs and grabbed the lapels of his coat as he stared at the mounds of junk revealed by the glow of the headlights. But as ashamed as Frank was for him to see it all, something distressing must have happened, and out of all people, Ezra had decided to come to Frank.
“I’m sorry. I’m a mess. This is difficult,” he said and hid his face in his hands.
“I’m a mess too. It’s okay,” Frank said, forcing a smile and pointing to his dirty sweatpants, but Ezra didn’t laugh.