Page 45 of Fractured Hearts

Jo nods and makes her way upstairs without even sparing me a glance.

“I can take the air mattress,” I say as I watch Jo disappear up the stairs.

“Take the bed, Maverick.” Ezra leaves without another word.

Ezra’s room is just like the rest of the house. Whoever designed it really wanted to make sure you knew there was an ocean right outside the house. Although I’m not sure how you could forget. I can hear the waves crashing against the cliffs, and the windows aren’t even open. Plus, the moment you step outside it smells like ocean. It reminds me of the town I grew up in. The thought makes me shiver. I have no desire to ever go back there.

I realize my bags are in here as I make my way over to the large bed in the center of the room. Ezra must have moved them from the car while I was in Jo’s room. Showing up here makes me feel like I’ve royally fucked up everything. Jo and Ezra were obviously fine alone, but my incessant need to be with them has blown everything up. Well, the actual bomb did that first, but the metaphorical one Jo dropped did the rest. Which wouldn’t have happened if I just stayed with the group. I sigh, not knowing about her feelings for me doesn’t mean they disappear.

Plopping down face-first onto the bed, my eyes immediately well up. The pillow smells like him. The scent of his shampoo that he must still use invades my senses and closes my throat. I used to fall asleep in his arms with the scent of him in my nose. Sometimes I still wake up smelling it like he was still next to me. I used to make fun of him for the spicy bourbon scent, telling him he was an old man, but I always secretly loved it. Maybe it wasn’t much of a secret because whenever I joked about it, he would just smile and kiss me.

I don’t know what to do or how to sort my feelings for anyone or anything. Jo and Ezra are both hurting, and it’s my fault. Maybe not directly, but I still had a hand in the pain they’re feeling right now. I hate myself for it even if it was unavoidable. Closing my eyes, I can only hope that tomorrow brings answers.

forty-three

EZRA

I’m frozen to the spot as I watch Jo putter around the kitchen. It’s early. The sun has barely started to rise, and she’s never awake before I am. She also never makes breakfast, but I’m watching her crack eggs and chop vegetables.

“Oh, hey!” she says with a smile when she spots me. The frown I was already sporting deepens. I thought she would be sulking today. She should be sulking or at least the Jo version, which is to work and ignore. Not smiling and making breakfast. Maybe she was body-snatched. Or maybe she and Maverick made up overnight. I look around, but don’t see him. I don’t ask either because I don’t want the answer.

“Uh, hi,” I say awkwardly when I realize she’s waiting for a response. “Are you taking my job?”

Jo shrugs, the mildly creepy smile still on her face. “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m making a quiche, hash brown casserole, bacon, and sausage. I’m prepping it right now and then I’ll put it in the oven after we spar.” She turns and continues chopping like this is all super fucking normal and not freaking me out.

“Do you want some coffee?” I ask, making my way over to the machine to see she’s already made a pot.

“I’d love one,” she says, turning to me briefly and smiling again. I quickly make hers, which is just black with a splash of milk, and hand it to her.

“I have to make a call really quick. I’ll just be outside.” I don’t know who to call, but someone needs to help me with whatever this is. Harlow is probably my best bet, but Cal will kill me if I wake his pregnant wife this early, and we’re barely on speaking terms. Maybe I should call a priest since she seems possessed.

“Don’t forget you promised to take me shooting today!” she calls over her shoulder.

“Right. Sure,” I call back, shoving my arms into my coat and feet into my boots as quickly as I can. I’m out the door before she can respond, phone in hand and lost as to what to do. I was able to get a replacement phone overnighted from my dad who found the entire thing amusing. I did not. In the end, I call the person who I know will help even unwillingly.

“You better have a good fucking reason for waking me up this early on game day,” the sleep-heavy voice on the other end answers.

I flinch. Jasper is an hour behind us in Nashville, so it’s even earlier for him.

“I wouldn’t call if I wasn’t kind of freaking out.”

Jasper sighs so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

“Alright. Lay it on me, Ezzy baby.”

“Maverick showed up here yesterday . . .” I tell him everything he missed really quickly so I can get to the part where there’s a stranger wearing Jo’s face in my kitchen right now.

“You really care about her,” he says after a long enough pause that I thought the call disconnected.

I groan. “I know. We’ve been stuck alone together for a month. It was bound to happen. Now tell me how to fix her.”

“You do realize you called a gay man to ask about woman problems, right?” I can hear the laughter in his voice, the asshole.

“I’m gay, too! At least you pretend to date women. I’m clueless here.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what? Clueless? I think that’s been pretty well established at this point.”