Page 48 of Grind
“Don’t lose any shoes!” Frank yelled on his way out, and Ezra couldn’t help but smile.
He felt so much more relaxed now that he was Frank’s… something.
But he’d find out exactly what Frank did for a living in due course anyway.
Chapter 15
Ezra
Ezrawonderedifthekimchi he’d made from scratch wouldn’t be too spicy for Frank, but he could always make another batch for him in a few days. For now though, he was busy assembling lunch boxes Frank could reach for at any time. Healthy and delicious, they were filled with all the microelements and vitamins a man should need when not only doing lots of physical labor but also training with the goal of gaining muscle mass. And fucking. A lot. One of them might just fulfill all of Ezra’s daily caloric intake, but someone as active as Frank didn’t need to worry about going overboard.
The kitchen smelled of grilled fish, steamed vegetables, and several spice mixtures that would make each meal fresh, but Ezra wasn’t done yet and approached the stove to check on the turkey stew. He liked cooking. He wouldn’t call it his passion, but something about controlling what exactly went into his body put him at ease and calmed him down. And since Frank didn’t care for himself enough, helping him feel better with the right kind of food became Ezra’s mission. Two weeks into it, he could already see progress.
Frank tried not to let it show, but he’d been skeptical at first, and seeing him grow increasingly fond of the new meal plan motivated Ezra to engage all his creativity into putting that pleased smile on that handsome face. It felt good to be in charge and organize all the things Frank didn’t have the time for.
Frank appreciated him. There was no money involved, even though Frank did house him, protect him, bought all the groceries etc. Ezra couldn’t put his finger on it, but it wasn’t like an exchange or barter either. His anxious brain would sometimes suggest that Frank was only doing all this for the sake of getting sex, but reality proved the opposite.
Frank had slipped into the role of his boyfriend, and Ezra didn’t hate it at all, even if Carmen would have called him a sucker, who’d fallen into a trap of permanent freebies, on the way to lose his most precious commodity—youth.
The L-word floated up in Ezra’s chest from time to time, and he pushed it right back to the bottom of his mind, where it should stay along with the broken wrecks from Ezra’s past, but he couldn’t deny that Frank had become his whole world. He was a cuddly bear, with claws for anyone who dared reach for Ezra. Stable. Safe. Kind.
The protector Ezra never had.
So yeah, Ezra gladly did the laundry for them both, took charge of Frank’s meals, and scrubbed the place clean, not just because he wanted those things, but because he knew that Frank needed them too.
The Strongman competition Frank was preparing for was approaching fast, and there hadn’t been a day when Ezra didn’t imagine himself in the audience, cheering for his champion. Too bad Paul was still out there, and Frank might decide to leave him in the safety of Shane and Jag’s care.
A head appeared in the open kitchen window so abruptly Ezra yelped and dropped his spatula.
“Mmm… smells nice,” Jag said.
Ezra should be used to this dude spooking him by now.
“You want some?” he asked, because all the boxes were already full, and he’d intended to distribute the remaining food among Frank’s friends anyway. It would have also been an opportunity to visit them all, something Ezra increasingly craved.
“Oooh!” Jag’s eyes widened, and he smiled, attempting to climb in through the window, but Ezra laughed and pushed him back.
“Use the door!”
Jag huffed and landed back on the ground. “Fine. Would have been quicker,” he mumbled, disappearing from sight.
It would have also meant mud on the kitchen counter. Ezra knew, because it had happened before. Dealing with Jag was like training a half-feral dog, but as far as dogs went, he was loyal and could, for the most part, clean up after himself.
Joy flickered in Ezra’s chest, and he tossed a little piece of grilled chicken toward the door as soon as it opened. “Catch!”
When Jag snapped his teeth, grabbing the morsel like an animal, Ezra broke into laughter and couldn’t stop for a while. Jag was the weirdest person Ezra had ever met, and yet was also completely unself-conscious about it. Unlike any of Ezra’s friends, Jag didn’t give a shit when the people around him made gentle digs at his outfits, or that he didn’t do some things the way everyone else did. He said what he thought in the most straightforward ways, and it was as refreshing, as it was scary.
Around him, Ezra let his guard down a little, because what on earth would he have to prove to someone who thought wearing three belts and a necklace made out of old keys was the height of fashion?
So yeah, Ezra didn’t care that Jag would see him in a loose hoodie and sweatpants. They were clean and of decent quality after all.
“I’ll give you some later to take home,” Ezra said, switching off the burner under the pot of turkey stew, and wiped his hands on the apron. “Do you have time for a game?” he asked, because he’d been trying to teach Jag the basics of playing cards, and fantasized about starting a weekly game night for the whole junkyard crew. Maybe soon he could bring that idea to Frank?
Jag glanced at the kitchen table with a serious frown, but eventually shook his head. “No. Frank asked me to do a few important things.” He patted the leather sack at his hip, which Ezra thought of as the medieval belly bag.
Ezra hummed. “He said he’ll be back late. What is this about?” he asked and stacked the lunch boxes before storing them in the massive fridge.
Jag pulled out several items from his pouch and placed them on the table.
