Page 112 of Pas de Trois
“Ezra?”
He sighs and then he brilliantly smiles and my heart beats wildly, beating furiously at the sight of him.
I rise from the floor and run to him.
He opens his arms for me and I leap. He catches me, pulling me close as I wrap my legs around his waist. I press my face into the crook of his neck and inhale the scent of him deeply.
Peaches and cream and sunshine.
He smells like him.
It’s him.
Oh, God, it’s really him!
I pull my head back to look at him, locking into his green gaze for only seconds before I let my mind truly believe that it’s him, he’s here, this is real.
This is real.
I kiss his face, his cheeks, his lips, his nose; every inch of skin, I cover with a kiss, tasting the salt of my own tears that drip from my eyes onto his skin.
I squeeze him tighter and press my face into his shoulder, sobbing into his nice, clean jacket. I say the only thing I can think to say. “Mine?”
I feel the tension in his body slump and fade and the sound of his voice as he responds sends a shiver down my spine. “Yours.” He holds me tighter. “Forever, forever yours.”
I kiss him.
I kiss him with my entire body because I can feel him everywhere. I don’t ever, ever want to let him go.
“You found me,” I say.
“I found you, baby. I found you and I’m taking you home.”
Home.
Ezra found me and he’s taking me home and all I can do is cry. But these tears aren’t from sadness, or pain, or torment, or fear. These tears are an expression of pure joy that I welcome. These tears are cleansing my soul and for the first time in a long time, my soul is at peace.
I’m finally free and I’m going home.
