Page 57 of Fear the Reapers
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re holding hands, but it’s out of the view of the rest of us. Almost like the connection is a secret.” He mused, giving me a pointed look. “Anything you want to share?”
“Yes. No.” I said with a grimace as I shook my head. “When did everything get so fucked?”
“Long before you ever came into our lives.” He mused, taking a seat on his ice blue couch. “Sit with me, Angel. I think it’s time you learned about who my brothers and I were before we became The Reapers. ”
I trekked towards the couch and sat next to him, eager to learn more about the men of this house.
“One thing you should know,” he said, shifting his body towards me, “is that Atlas lives up to his namesake. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and does what he can to protect us. But when he feels like he’s failed, he refuses to forgive himself.”
I gave him a small nod. It was always clear to me that Atlas was their leader, but I had this idea in my head that he was making decisions and bossing everyone around simply to coax his own ego. I missed the glaringly obvious truth behind his actions. Trying to control everything was his way of protecting them. And me.
“He’s not a bad guy. He just does whatever it takes to-”
“Keep you guys alive?” I interjected, nodding to myself.
“Something like that.” Ezra replied as a soft smile formed on his lips.
“That seems to be a running theme these days.” I mumbled, leaning on his shoulder.
“Hmm?” He asked, pressing his lips against my forehead.
The familiarity and intimacy between us should have been scary. It had become almost second nature for me to crawl into Ezra’s arms and be soothed by his presence. It was to the point where sometimes I didn’t even realize my body was moving towards him until my skin pressed against his.
It was the same for Ezra, too. Sometimes, when we were just sitting on the couch, his hand would mindlessly reach out and start twirling my hair. The connection between us was more than just friendship and more than just sex. It was a deeper, soul connection. Almost as if our bodies had practiced this dance their entire lives, and they knew each other’s movements by heart.
“It’s nothing.” I said, shaking my head and looking up at him. “You were about to tell me about your guys’ past.”
“Right.” He said with a firm nod as he shifted in his seat and faced straight ahead.
His tattooed fingers tapped on his knees as he searched for his next words. I reached for his left hand and laced my fingers between his. Whatever he was preparing to share seemed big, and he needed to know that I was right there with him.
“My brothers and I were all born in Caspian Valley, and for the first few years of our life, we had a decent upbringing. We weren’t the richest family by any means, but our parents did what they needed to get by and for a while our lives were good.”
I scooted my body closer to his, sensing he needed the comfort.
“When I was seven, The Diaz Cartel killed our parents right in front of us. They weren’t the target. Just innocent bystanders in a drive-by shooting that got out of hand.” He grimaced as he nervously rubbed his fingertips against my knuckles and searched for my eyes. “Kind of comes with the territory when you live in a shit neighborhood.”
I squeezed his hand, silently urging him to continue.
“After they died, we had no family to turn to. Our parents had no siblings, and their parents had died long before any of us were born. With nowhere to go, our only option was the system.”
My heart broke for all of them. I knew what it was like to lose a parent at a young age, and I couldn’t imagine losing two loving parents so young. It must have been terrifying.
“Tris and Cy were fostered almost immediately. They were only five at the time and still had that cute innocent thing going on, so it made sense.” He chuckled and I smiled, picturing the two of them as broody little kids.
Tristan told me about his foster father and the abuse he had to endure as a kid. If Tristan and Cyrus didn’t kill the bastard, I would’ve killed him myself.
“Atlas and I weren’t so lucky. Years ticked by while we lived in the group home, waiting for someone to give a fuck about the damaged kids the world forgot.”
He winced as he said the words and I immediately shifted closer, resting my head against his neck. It was difficult for him to share this story, but I was grateful that he was sharing it with me.
“When we got word of a woman wanting an older kid, Atlas and I didn’t know how to feel. We wanted to be excited, but we’d seen too many couples blatantly ignore us once they learned what we’d witnessed. They worried our parent’s brutal murder made us predisposed to violence. Go figure.”
“Then it happened.” He said, with a bitter smile on his lips. “She selected me. I was the fucking chosen one. Laura seemed nice enough, but even back then, I wasn’t one to trust right away. I needed my brother, but she insisted on only having room for one of us.”
“Atlas saw my hesitation, and he pulled me aside, insisting that it was a golden opportunity I shouldn’t pass up for him. And deep down, I wanted it. I just needed to know At would be okay without me.”
