Page 13 of Snapping the Ice
I was alone with Ezra. The pattering of my heart filled my ears. Why was I so nervous around him? And more importantly, how could I bring up the topic I came for? “So, can you send me those photos?”
“Sure can, but would you like me to print them for you, too? I have a professional printer here.” He held his hand out to a behemoth of a machine against the wall, close to the desk. I’d missed seeing it yesterday.
“Yeah, that would probably be better.” I placed my hand flat on the desk. “Hey, Ezra, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” I breathed through the butterflies in my stomach.
“Yes?” He stood and his gaze flicked to my lips for a beat, his throat dipping.
“I, um, I wanted to talk to you about Tate.” Shit, I’d just laid it all out there. Would he turn me away? I studied him.
His brows knitted, and any hint of a smile vanished. “What about Tate?” He turned, facing his desk, planting his hands on the surface. “Look, I’m not proud of what?—”
“I want to help you.” Placing my hand on his shoulder, I twisted him to me. “I couldn’t get what happened yesterday out of my head and I’m not a person who can see that and not act.” Oh, fuck…he was going to tell me to go to hell.
Straightening his shoulders, he said, “You don’t even know me.” His gaze softened and his lips bowed at the corners. “Why would you want to help me?”
Okay, so he was open to it. “How about we grab a coffee and talk? Can we start there?” The beating of my heart thrummed inmy temples.
He gaped for a beat, his brows twitching, and scanned the studio. “Uh, yeah, sure. I suppose I can edit today’s photos later.” With a purse of his lips, he picked up his phone, lying next to the keyboard on the desk. “I should, um, should let Tate know.” He rubbed his forehead, gazing at the open screen on the phone. “Fuck, no, I shouldn’t.” He huffed a breath. “But if he comes looking for me…” His brows furrowed. “No, I can’t tell him.”
Jesus, he really was in an abusive relationship. I grabbed his forearm and lowered it along with the phone. “Ezra, let’s just go. You can tell him it’s my fault. Tell him I wanted to talk to you about. Shit, I don’t know.” What excuse could we give him? “How would he even know you’re not here?”
“He likes to stop by unannounced.” He fisted his free hand at his side. “Fuck it. I’ll figure something out. Let’s just go before he shows up.” He threw a shaky glance at the door.
“Let’s go then.” With a grin, I grabbed his hand and led him to the door, the warmth of his touch burning inside me. It felt good to help him. As I opened the door, he ripped his hand free.
“Uh, you’re not queer, are you?” He eyed me.
Choking out a laugh, I said, “No. I’m straight.” But then what were these weird feelings around him?
“Okay. I didn’t think so.” He followed toward the sunlit street and down a sidewalk. “The coffee shop I sent Evan to is right down here.”
“Okay.” I strolled beside him, taking in the way his long dark hair fluttered in the breeze, exposing his angled jawline and the hint of stubble. He wore a tighter shirt today, his lean legs taking graceful strides.
God damn, did he have any idea how amazing he looked? Why was he with a guy like Tate? Any gay man would surelylove to have him. As we approached the glass doors to the coffee shop, I opened one. “After you.”
“Thanks.” He strode inside and to a counter at the back.
The décor resembled a French bistro, featuring white subway tiles, black counters, and metal, round-backed chairs around marble-topped tables. A brown velvet couch rested along one wall with an oval coffee table in front of it. We’d sit there. Only one couple occupied the place, seated at a table in the window.
We ordered sweet coffees—him getting a caramel one while I ordered a caffe mocha. After paying, we grabbed our drinks, and I motioned to the couch. “Let’s sit there. It looks comfortable.”
“Sure.” He sipped his coffee and dropped into the corner of the sofa.
Sitting beside him, I held the warm drink in my hands. How should I start this conversation? Now that I’d gotten him here, I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I should learn more about him first? “So, you’re from Alabama?”
“Yes.” He dipped his head and clenched his jaw. “I grew up there and right after I graduated high school, my parents kicked me out.” He sipped more coffee. “And so I came here on a whim. I’d never been to Arizona, and I didn’t want to live in snow, so…”
“Shit, why did your parents kick you out?” I knitted my brows. Was it because he was gay?
“They found out I was gay in my senior year of high school. My father wanted to kick me out right then and there, but my mom talked him into letting me stay, so I would finish high school.” His darkened gaze found mine. “My parents are homophobic. They’re Southern Baptist.” He gazed out the front window for a moment and focused on me. “After they found out, I wasn’t allowed to go to church. Not that I wanted to.” Hetightened his jaw. “In fact, they did me a favor by kicking me out so I could leave that fucking place.”
“Jesus, Ezra. I’m so sorry.” I placed my hand on his knee. “My parents were pretty accepting when my brother came out.” No wonder he never smiled. I thought back to the day. Mason had been in high school, too. “I mean, my dad wasn’t so cool with it at first, but he came around.”
“That’s great for your brother.” His gaze locked on my hand, still resting on his knee. “No wonder he’s not afraid of being out in the NAPH.”
I slid my hand from his knee and onto my lap. “Tell me about Tate.” Did Ezra end up with him because of how his family treated him? Did he have low self-esteem? I’d have to Google some shit after this conversation. I drank my coffee, the bitter and sweet of the chocolate flavoring filling my mouth.
“I met Tate about a year ago on a hookup app. It was only supposed to be a one-nighter, but…” He shrugged. “Tate wanted more. He was very convincing.” With a sigh, his shoulders drooped. “He treated me to expensive restaurants and first-class flights to Cabo for vacation. He’s from a wealthy family here in Paradise Valley.”
