Page 50 of Friends That Heal Us
“Here.”
I chug it down in one big gulp. She takes the cup from me and sets it on the coffee table. She reaches for my hand. All I do is stare and then gaze up at her.
“Don’t fight me, Ezra. Let me help you.”
I nod, sliding my hand into hers as she walks us back to my room. I already know what’s coming. As she steps out, I sink onto the bed, and she quietly returns a moment later. I hear the squeeze of the lotion bottle, the gentle rub of her hands warming it up, and then the soothing pressure as she takes my foot in her hands and begins to massage it.
The sense of relief calms my anxiety that was rushing out of me from the thought of being awake for the rest of the night. Slowly the tingling fades as the crawling sensation settles, letting me finally feel still.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EZRA
Goingto Zayn’s job wasn’t on my to-do list today, but when I woke up from a restful night’s sleep thanks to Violet and her thoughtfulness, I decided I’m not letting this fucker ruin anything for her. She deserves more. She deserves better than what she’s been handed.
I pull my truck into Zayn’s work and park dead center, not giving a damn who I’m blocking. All patience and restraint I had went out the window after she told me what he did last night. Slamming the door shut, I stride toward the bays with heavy steps and catch a few of the guys off guard as they glance over at me.
“Hey Ezra,” I hear in the distance. I ignore whoever said that; I’m not here for pleasantries.
I scan the rows of cars until I spot him on a creeper. My steps cut across the concrete, each one louder than the last. I get close enough to see the smear of grease on his clothes and the smell of oil is thick in the air.
Without thinking, I grab his ankles and yank.
He slides out from under the car. “What the fuck?” he says, startled.
The wheels scrape against concrete as I hold his ankles tight, lifting them just enough to pin him down and make it harder for him to push himself up.
A few guys gasp, while the clatter of tools die down as everyone’s attention turns to me.
He comes up on one elbow, eyes wide, surprised, and for a second he just stares at me, confused. “Ezra,” he yells. “What the fuck are you doing?” he says furiously, trying to twist his ankles out of my grip.
To my surprise, none of the guys come and try to help him get out of this. They probably don’t know what’s been going on. I’m sure they think I’m here to play a friendly joke on him. I know many of these guys. They’ve been here since high school, when I used to work with them. It was common for us to play jokes on each other.
“You need to back the fuck off, Zayn, and stay the hell away from Violet.” He freezes, eyes wide like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Did you fucking hear me?” I roar, spit flying from rage. My pulse is hammering and my jaw is locked so tight my whole head throbs.
He stops fighting the grip I have on him. “Oh, come on. This is about her,” he sneers, his face twisting in anger.
I kick the creeper out from under him, and his back slams into the pavement with a loud thud. A sharp groan escapes him as his face twists in pain. I press my foot against his stomach, pinning him down before he can scramble to his feet.
“I fucking mean it, Zayn. Stay the hell away from her. And keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” I say under my breath, my teeth clenched so hard.
“Are you her knight in shining armor coming to her rescue?”
I drive my boot down harder into his stomach; his chest heaves as he gasps for air.
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. You’ve done your damage. There is nothing left for you. So leave her the fuck alone.”
“Hey, Ezra, he’s not breathing. Ease up on him, man,” I hear in the background.
Anger blinded me to the point I didn’t notice his face turning red.
I press my boot down a few seconds longer, then step off his stomach. He grabs his stomach, doubling over and gasping for air. I follow with a hard kick to his ribs. He lets out a groan while curling into a tighter ball.
“Hey, get the fuck out of here. Or I’m calling the cops,” some guy yells.
I glance around; everyone is staring at me, but no one has tried to intervene. No doubt he’s not worth anyone’s time. I see customers coming out of the waiting room looking over at me with their jaws dropped in shock. They probably think I work here since I’m in my oil-stained work clothes.
I look back down at Zayn as he cradles himself, still trying to catch a breath.
