“Ezra?”
My pulse kicks up a notch from his odd behavior, and not in a good way.
I put my coffee next to his, moving to stand up. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
Ezra darts in front of me, blocking me from getting up. “Abby, you have to give me another chance.”
“No, I don’t. I told you, I’m not in a good place—”
He leans down, putting his hands on the armrests, boxing me in. One look into his eyes and I know I’m in trouble. Ezra isn’t heartsick. He doesn’t miss me. He doesn’t want me back. He’s pissed off and even though I don’t know what I did, I know I’m the reason why.
In the calmest voice I can manage, I try to get Ezra to back off. “Ezra, I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Honestly, it has nothing to do with you.”
His mouth curls up in a sneer so vicious, I have to force myself not to flinch. “It’s not you, it’s me? Are you kidding?” Ezra tilts his head, eyes raking over me in a way that sends an icy chill down my spine. “You’re hot and all, but there’s no way you’re using the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line to break up with me.”
“It’s not a line, Ezra. It’s true.”
“I don’t give a fuck what’s true!” he shouts. “You lead me on, let me take you out, tease me all night, and then dump me? No. That isn’t how this,” he gestures between us, “ends.”
“Please don’t yell.” My heart is pounding against my ribcage. Ezra is truly frightening me. I’ve dealt with unstable patients before, but other people were always nearby to help if it got out of my control. Right now, I’m alone. My nearest neighbors aren’t close enough to hear him shouting.
“I’ll fucking do what I want!” he roars. His huge hands dart out and wrap around the top of my arms. I’m yanked to my feet as if I were a rag doll. He pulls me close enough that I have to twist my head to the side so our mouths don’t touch. “No one dumps me, sweetheart.” Ezra drags his nose down my cheek, his hot breath ghosting across my neck.
“Let me go,” I say through clenched teeth. As much as I hate violence, I’m two seconds from punching him in the face. Of course, there’s no way I can win a fight against Ezra. He’s taller, heavier, and way more muscular than me.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t think about this.” Ezra brushes his mouth across my skin and this time, I jerk back. His hands tighten on my arms as I struggle to get free.
“Let me go!”
“Don’t be like that, Abby.” His voice is so detached and unemotional, I break out in goose bumps from the chill.
With my arms pinned, I only have one option. To bring my knee back and kick him squarely between the legs. Ezra howls in pain. He immediately drops me to clutch at his groin.
I completely misjudged the recovery time he’d need from a hard shot to the balls, because when I turn to run inside the house, he grabs me by the hair.
“Ow!”
An arm slides around my waist and I’m lifted off my feet as Ezra turns us around in one swift move. With no time to react, I find myself slammed to the ground, the air whooshing out of my lungs when I land on my back with Ezra on top of me.
“You bitch!” he roars.
I scream, clawing and scratching at whatever is within reach, desperate to get free. Ezra’s size and strength is no match for me and he has my wrists pinned in seconds. Fear twists and flips my stomach into knots. I have to swallow back the bile that threatens to rise.
“You don’t want to do this,” I plead, but Ezra isn’t hearing me. His eyes are near feral as he stares down at me, helpless beneath him.
“Oh, I think I do.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look at those inhuman eyes. The only thing I hear is the hammering of my own heart. This can’t be happening.
Suddenly, Ezra’s heavy weight is gone. For a minute, I’m too stunned to move. The distinct sounds of fighting sink into my frightened brain. I open my eyes and climb to my feet. I literally have to rub my eyes in disbelief to be sure I’m actually seeing what I think I’m seeing.
“You fucking asshole. I’m going to kill you,” Hawke growls.
Hawke and Ezra are circling each other like two panthers battling for dominance. Ezra’s lower lip is split open, blood trickling down his chin. He spits red and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
“Fuck you, dickhead,” Ezra snarls. “I can take you.”
“Then go ahead and try,” Hawke says. His glasses are gone. With no barrier up, I can see the pure, lethal rage in his two-toned eyes. I’ve never, ever seen him this angry. My gaze drops to Hawke’s hands. White bandages are wrapped around both, a stark contrast to the black ink on his fingers and colorful artwork on his forearms.