AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ezra loves the piano, specifically the one I saved up to buy him for his birthday, so I’m not surprised to see that there’s another one here, right in front of the bay windows overlooking the forest.
Ezra isn’t the type to spoil himself with many nice things. Yes, he has a private jet and two luxury cars, but he really only buys himself what he needs. He bought me, however, anything and everything my heart desired, without even asking about the cost. When I found out he’d always wanted a piano, I knew I had to get it for him.
That’s what you do for the people you love, right? You hand over an arm and a leg to give them the desires of their heart, even if that means you’ll be paying for it the rest of your life.
“I haven’t played her since you left.”
I jump, nearly dropping my apple. I turn around at the sound of Ezra’s voice behind me. He’s standing on the threshold of the living room, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets. For the first time since I’ve been back, for the first time indays, he looks relaxed.
“How come?” I ask quietly, taking a tentative step towards him.
He shrugs, such a casual gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Music doesn’t sound the same when you’re not here.”
My heart flutters. I clear my throat, try to calm my racing heart. “So, you haven’t played any of the new pieces I bought for you either?”
He shakes his head, his eyes filled with hurt. The day before I left, I stopped by an antique shop on my way back here to pack my things. Displayed in the window were three pieces of music on worn parchment. It was my parting gift to him, a thank you for all he had done for me, even though I wanted to forget about him. It was the least I could do, a way for me to show him that all of it was real.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. But what exactly am I apologizing for? For leaving him when I promised I never would, or for the way I acted last night?
He pushes off the door frame and comes to stand in front of me. I look up at him, into those dark brown eyes I love so much.
“Don’t be,” he murmurs, stroking the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t realize how poorly I treated you until recently.”
I search his eyes. “How recently?”
He hesitates, something in his eyes darkening with that anger I’m so used to. “About a month ago.”
“What made you realize it a month ago?”
Ezra walks around me and takes a seat at the piano bench. He lifts the fallboard, runs his fingers over the keys and begins to play something. It’s a horrible, lilting melody that disorients me. I can’t see his face, but I hear the smile in his voice when he asks, “when were you going to tell me that Donovan helped you leave me?”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
EZRA
My back is to Maya,so I can’t see her, but I can feel the tension in the air. I can feel her holding her breath.
“Are you going to answer me, sunflower?” I murmur in between keys.
Sunflower, the nickname I gave her because she’s the literal personification of the forb. Rich brown eyes, thick, curly hair, and the softest, warmest, most beautiful golden-brown skin I’ve ever seen and felt on a woman.
She’s my sun, the star around which I orbit.
My everything.
“I—” she starts, her voice quavering.
I slam my hands down on the keys and turn around. She backs away a few steps, eyes wide with fear.
“Spit it out!” I shout, pushing off the bench and going to stand in front of her. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes, and a part of me wants to hold her. The part of me that just wants to spoil her eats at my insides.
But I need to hear it from her mouth. After weeks of torture, Donovan finally spit it out. He told me everything I needed to know, told me that he’d been working with the Crimson Brotherhood for a while. He’s being kept alive throughout his torture, and the thought brings a smile to my face. I can only imagine the shit Lee and Jay are putting him through right now. He’ll die soon, either by my hand or from the extent of his wounds. Honestly, I don’t know how the bastard is even still breathing.
I must look like a psychopath, because Maya takes several steps away from me, trying to put as much distance between the two of us as she can. The apple falls to the polished floors with a heavythud.
“Get over here,” I demand. “Get over here and answer my fucking question.”
She swallows and comes to stand in front of me. “I’m sorry,” she says again.
