"Miller," he murmurs, sounding half asleep.
"Yeah, Ez?"
"Don't let go."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Yeah angel. Promise forever," I whisper.
It takes him almost an hour to fall asleep. When he does, he's tense and twitchy. I kiss his nape, fit my leg between his—everything I can to help him relax. I fall asleep with a good feeling that I've got him in my arms. That he's mine, and I’ll take care of him. I'll keep trying at this until he tells me everything. And then I'll help him.
I wake up at 6:12 a.m., my hands wandering the bed in search of Ezra. His side doesn't feel warm. I roll over, finding it empty, and something clenches in my gut—a sort of twisting dread I can't explain—so I get up and check the bathroom.
"Ezra?"
Bathroom’s empty.
I don’t know why, but I’m afraid to go in his room. It takes me half a minute to push open the door. Because I know. Somehow, I fucking feel it: something’s wrong.
I'm fucking terrified I'll find him on the floor clutching a pill bottle. When I don't, I scurry out onto the roof via his window, but he’s not there. I check in the shower again, and then downstairs. I check the downstairs bathroom by the family room, and then I check the backyard, feeling sick with what I tell myself is misplaced worry.
“Duh, Josh.” The fucking driveway! When I find his Jeep missing, I assume he's getting donuts. So I text him.
The text bubbles are green. Which means his iPhone's offline. That’s a little weird. I check my arms and legs for something scribbled on me in pen—some note that explains where he went. But…nothing.
Fuck, I can't breathe.
I call his phone, and it's off.
"Ezra?" I call through the quiet house. I go back upstairs. I can't bring myself to wake Carl, but my throat’s so tight I’m almost choking with this awful fear, so I get in my car and drive down to the Isabella mansion. My head spins so hard from nervousness that I worry I'll wreck my car for that reason—no seizure needed.
When I get there and I don't see Ezra’s Jeep, I just sit there panting for a minute with my forehead on the steering wheel.
I try his phone again, and text again, and call again and again. Nothing. Voicemail.
"Ez? Hey. Call me. Don’t know where you went and I’m worried."
Again. "Ezra? Love you. Where'd you go, man?"
One more time as I drive back home. "Please call me. I'm getting really worried."
But he doesn't. Not for an hour. I check the attic, feeling terrified I’ll find him hanging from the rafters, but the space is quiet and empty. I try his phone again, telling myself maybe he went out to get the bacon and pimento biscuits; sometimes service out there isn’t so good.
Half an hour passes. I sink onto the couch, feeling paralyzed by fear I tell myself it’s probably all in my head. At 8:15 a.m., I knock on Mom and Carl's door. My mom answers, wearing her robe.
"What's the matter, honey?"
I tell her I can't find Ezra. She gets Carl. For a moment, everything is chaos—all of us checking the house, even though I told them that his Jeep is missing.
Mom and Carl ask if something happened with Ezra and me.
“No, nothing. At all.”
Mom calls Ezra, finding that his phone is still off. “Well, that’s strange. Maybe he went out with friends.”
And then Carl checks his phone. I watch as his face goes somber. When he looks up, it's at my mom and not me.
He makes a face as if there's something he needs to tell her, and I feel almost faint with fear.
Carl frowns from Mom to me. "I have a text from him." He says it slowly.
"And?" I snap.
I see him swallow. He looks down and then back up—right at me.
"It says that he's going back to his mom's.” The words are so slow, monotone, and I don’t understand them. “He says...he wants to move back." Carl's brow furrows as he looks at me. "Josh, did something happen?"
My body flashes hot then cold, like a light bulb that just blew. "I said no. Nothing.” I reach for his phone. “I want to see the text.”
Carl hesitates for just a second, but I snatch it away, my heart pounding so damn hard I think I’ll pass out.
‘Hi Dad. Sorry to leave without saying bye. I’ve been thinking on it and I think it’s good to finish out the year up there with Mom. For closure. Thanks for letting me stay with you. I enjoyed the time a lot. Talk soon- Love Ezra’
I stare at it till the words blur. “That…can’t be true.” I look from Carl to my mom. “That can’t be what he really said. He was just with me!”
I run upstairs and check his room—first the drawers and then under the bed, inside the box spring.