Page 79 of Love and History

EZRA

Holden disappeared.

The cast was in a panic and I was right there with them…for different reasons. I’d said everything would be fine, and he’d said it wouldn’t, and I didn’t know what the fuck to think now. I couldn’t think at all over the constant buzz of the crowd and my own unsteady heartbeat anyway.

Val was sure he’d been kidnapped until Noah reported that Tommy had driven him home. They thought he’d suffered a mild heat stroke. I had my doubts about that, but he wasn’t answering his cell and I couldn’t fucking leave.

Henry the Eighth had accidentally become the star of the show. I had kids crawling all over me and a line of people waiting for photos. After I wiped the first layer of whipped cream off, I was going to have to take a few more pies to the face. And then there was cleanup. I disassembled the booths and schlepped props to storage, sending a barrage of texts every chance I got.

Are you okay?

I know you aren’t okay. I’m sorry.

Text me so I know you’re home.

Please.

Nothing. Holden had gone radio silent.

I didn’t get home until eleven p.m. The house was dark and vaguely spooky, yet comforting too. I stood on the sidewalk, keys in hand, and gazed up at Holden’s window. I didn’t know what to do now…throw pebbles, knock on his bedroom door? And then what?

Look, I wasn’t a complete moron. Mallory and her dad were a sidenote consideration. I hadn’t handled that well and I could promise him it wouldn’t happen again and mean every word, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough. I had to show him how I felt. I had to prove myself. And I didn’t know where to begin. I wasn’t brave like that. I was actually kind of a mess.

Leave it to Holden to change the game. He couldn’t just be my first gay affair, he had to complicate things and be the first person I’d ever—

Fuck. I wasn’t ready for that word. I wasn’t ready for anything.

I let myself in the house and tiptoed up the creaky stairs. I stood on the landing for a long moment, staring into the shadows toward his room, willing him to appear. The minutes ticked by, and fatigue settled deep in my bones. When I thought I might keel over from exhaustion, I moved down the hall, rested my forehead on his door, and slowly twisted the knob.

It was open. I shuffled as quietly as a church mouse, navigating the dark space with my hands out to avoid tripping into furniture. He rolled toward me when I perched on the edge of the mattress.

“Ezra?”

“Yeah. It’s me,” I whispered hoarsely. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m okay. We can talk tomorrow.”

I couldn’t see his expression. I was like a blind man in every way possible and fumbling for something solid. And I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Holden…”

He sat up and pulled the covers close. “We can’t do this, Ezra.”

“What?”

“This. Us. We just…can’t.”

My eyes welled out of the fucking blue. “Don’t say that. I swear I didn’t know about—”

“I know. I know.” He set his hand on my neck and stroked my jaw. “It’s not the donation. Or Mallory. That’s just real life happening around us. What we have here in this house might feel real to us right this second, but it’s not real and—“

“Don’t say that.”

“Ezra.” Holden held my gaze in the dim light. “It’s not real.”

I didn’t have a comeback. I knew the score.

This was never supposed to be a forever thing. There was always going to be a good-bye. We could say it tonight, wait till tomorrow, or until the day I packed my last bag and handed over my key. I couldn’t stop time. I couldn’t stop change.