Chapter 33

The One With Skeletons

A R I E L L E

“Did you just say his name was Ezra?” I ask him, feeling all of the blood drain from my fucking face. “Like Ezra fuckin’ Sullivan?”

Memories flash back of my childhood. Of things I wish I could forget and of people I have no desire to reminisce about.

“Yeah,” Nate says and I can sense he doesn’t even really want to tell me about this. He seems uncomfortable about the entire thing and knowing Ezra, I’m sure as to why he feels that way. The guy’s fucking psycho. “He called you Ella.”

I swallow an uncomfortable lump in my throat, remembering when he used to call me that as a child. I didn’t know just how involved he’d become in my life after my father’s death. If I knew, I would have moved out as a damn child somehow. I would’ve left the fucking country. I would’ve figured out some way to get away from him and my mother.

“How do you know him, Arielle?” When Nate asks the question, he looks at me softly, aware that I likely don’t want to talk about it. I’m sure Ezra said something to him that made his mind wander. Like how Ezra always called me his darling Ella in the creepiest fucking tone ever.

It was his way of mocking my dad. He says it that way because he knows how much it really bothers me. He knows how to get under my skin.

Plus he thinks he’s my father now ever since my dad’s passing and the fact that he’s technically been my only father figure since then. Still doesn’t make him my fucking dad.

I sigh as Nate rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. “When I was a kid, he was my dad’s best friend.” I pause, unsure of how much to share with him as he just waits patiently. “My dad was always good, straight edge. Ezra, on the other hand...” I trail off, giving Nate a weak smile, “he never fuckin’ was.”

“My dad got caught up in his bullshit and he was murdered when I was really young. I barely even remember him.”

“I’m sorry,” Nate tells me, bringing my hands up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of them. “Did they ever find out who did it?”

“No one was ever arrested for it,” I admit to him, “But I’m positive I know who did it.”

Nate twists his neck, surprised at my admission. “Wait, seriously?”

“When I was really young and my dad was still alive, I was restless one night so I crawled out of my bed. I don’t know why—I wish I fuckin’ didn’t—but I went to the kitchen and I saw Ezra and my mother kissing.” Thinking of the memory makes me want to vomit and I bite my lower lip. “I didn’t realize what it meant—I was like fuckin’ three or something—but after my dad was killed, my mother got together with Ezra almost immediately.”

“When I was old enough to put two and two together, it occurred to me that they were probably fucking behind my dad’s back for years and that they’d planned to kill him to be together. My mother sent me away right after his death to live with my grandma until she died too, a little over five years later.”

“I’m so sorry, love.”

“Honestly, I’ve never had a close relationship with my mother.” I admit to him, sighing heavily. I don’t ever remember feeling any sort of connection to my own mother. The two of us are two completely different people and the way she treated me all of my childhood is so fucked that I know we’ll never be able to have any sort of proper mother–daughter relationship.

In fact, I’ll never forgive her for the things she put me through. I never fucking could.

“That’s alright,” he tells me. “Not everyone’s parents are great people. At least you had a good influence in your dad ... for as long as he was around.” His gaze softens at the last part, and it truly makes me want to bawl my fucking eyes out. I don’t know what it is about his face, but I can feel an extensive array of emotions just by looking at it.

Although, horny is usually the top one.

“How about your dad?” I inquire, squeezing his hands in mine.

“Arielle—”

“Look, if you’re hesitant to tell me about your family ‘cause your home life was perfect and mine was shit, don’t. I wanna’ know what your parents are like.”

He still seems like he doesn’t want to talk about it, and it makes me second guess my pressing into his life. Maybe he didn’t have a good home life and he comes from a household like mine. I find that hard to believe, since he seems to have his shit together, but you can’t always tell everything about someone from the way they act in front of others.

“My dad taught me everything I know about cars,” Nate says with a smile.

“So did mine,” I smile back. “Then, after he died, I learned from TV and movies. Plus, I had a lot of guy friends.”

“Oh, really?” He questions in a teasingly jealous tone, obviously and quickly changing the subject.

“Mhm,” I hum, kissing him.

“Y’know, we never would’ve been able to be just friends.”

“Is that so?” As I inquire, his hands make their way underneath my legs, and he effortlessly lifts me to straddle his lap. He shifts backwards on the couch, relaxing his legs apart and running his palms up my thighs. When I shuffle myself further forward on his lap, he smirks, cupping my jaw in his hand and pressing his lips to mine.

“Are you kidding? I can’t keep my fuckin’ hands off you. Wouldn’t have been able to then, sure as hell can’t now.” His lips trail from mine, across my jaw, down my neck and ultimately land on my collarbone that has been exposed to him by his sneaky fingers.

Loving the way his skin feels against mine, I lean into his touch, also admiring the distraction from the drama. I don’t exactly want to reminisce about Ezra and the various ways he’s fucked up my life, and I certainly don’t want any reminder of the wretch that is my mother.

But I know Nate and I know he’s doing this as exactly that—a distraction. He knows the instant he touches my bare skin with his, that everything else around us fucking melts away and the only thing I can focus on is him.

It gives me an idea, and so, I lean away from him to remove my shirt over my head. His eyes go wide when he sees my tits covered by my lacy bra right in front of his eyes, but he wastes no time in setting his hands on my waist. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”