Chapter 3

Three

Ezra

I wake up to Miller wrapped around me from behind. His heavy arm over my shoulder and chest. One of his legs pushed in between mine. I can feel his cheek against my back, his breath against my skin, and that’s when I remember what happened.

I feel an echo of the shock from earlier. Like a waterfall of thoughts and feelings that, for a crushing millisecond, is too much. I feel pummeled by it—my lungs locking up, my throat constricting—but then something shifts in my mind and I’ve got it. Got a handle on it.

I remembered. And it’s okay.It’s fucked up and sad and crazy. I feel all this shit toward my mom. But it’s okay, I tell myself.

I take a long, slow breath, and I feel Miller’s body tense up.

“Hey, angel.” His cheek presses against my back.

I swallow. "I love you." My voice still sounds raspy.

"I love you too."

I turn over so I'm facing him. I cup his face, wondering as I look into his blue eyes how he can still love me. Fuck, he’s given everything to me, and I was so shitty to my Mills—especially at first. I feel almost overwhelmed by how much I love him, by how much I just want things to be good now. I kiss his cheek. “This is weird,” I rasp. “Now that I remember you, I miss you…in the past.” I laugh. “It's really weird."

Okay, Mr. Articulate.

But Mills just kisses my lips, light and gentle. "That's gotta be so fucking weird it's unreal."

He hugs me, and I let myself relax against him, feeling what it’s like for Mills to hold me again. This one. This Miller that I know better, who pulled me from the lake and climbed onto the trestle bridge to talk me off it. The one I toyed with, fucked with, tried to wreck—but all he did was be so patient with me. Wake me up from a thousand nightmares.

I don’t have those nightmares anymore, I realize. Will I start having them again now that my memory’s back? Did the ECT cure me? I noticed I feel more…negative about myself—now that I remember what I did to Miller. And I feel angry with myself for leaving Fairplay. For letting my mom run the show. For being scared of what she might do. I was a fucking coward, and we both paid the price.

Miller’s hand strokes down the back of my head.

"You're not asking any questions," I whisper, trying to smile for him.

"I don't want to overwhelm you."

"You can ask me. Actually," I whisper, " I have questions." Tears fill my eyes. "Millsy, how'd you stand it when I found you at the frat house?"

Knowing him more fully...knowing how I left him in his bed and disappeared and sent that fucking bullshit text to my dad. And then never contacted him again.

"Jesus. How'd you do that?” I whisper. “How'd you just...take me back?"

"Lemme tell you, angel, cause it's a good story." His lips brush my forehead, and I think I feel him smiling. "The only thing that mattered to me, when you found me on the stairs that night, was you. When I realized you didn't remember, you think it really mattered to me? After I wanted you for an entire year. Finding out that you couldn't help it—that you didn't want to ghost me— Dude. It was all I needed. I got used to you not knowing. I would want you any way you were. So what you forgot a few months? We've got a lot more than that."

I swallow as tears fill my eyes. "I'm so lucky."

"We're both lucky."

"I feel terrible for Carl," I rasp.Tears spill down my cheeks, and Miller wipes them gently with his fingers.

"Don't feel bad. He's okay. He'll be more okay when you and him talk. Speaking of them…I told them I was only going out for just a little bit, to see the Christmas lights by the lake. If you want, I'll drive us back toward home and you hop out near the cemetery. Then I'll go in, chat with them, and I'll let you in my bedroom window?"

"You think I can climb up on that roof?"

"Well, sort of. Can you?"

I laugh. "Probably."

As it turns out, I can; thank you, football workouts. It's weird as hell to be back up on that roof. Remembering myself so lost and messed up. The nights I'd take some pills and lie out here and try to keep from getting deeply asleep.

Miller notices my face as soon as I climb into his window.

"Hey, man. Feeling weird?"

I nod slowly, looking all around his room. I look at him, at older Miller in his same old bedroom. Something—some damn feeling—grips my throat so tight that it aches. "I wasn't happy here,” I manage, feeling gut-punched. “The only thing that was bearable at all was you.”

He hugs me.

We end up on his bed, kissing fast and hard and frenzied as tears fall from my eyes.

"You really moved on from all that?"I ask, as we pull apart to breathe.

"From you leaving?" He nods. "I have. And you did, too."

“No, not really. I forgot.”

"Forget again," he teases. "Just remember right now with me."

We kiss till we've both got boners. Then he jerks us off—my lust for Miller overriding the whirlwind in my chest only barely. As he goes to get a towel, I look around his dark room, feeling nervous that my dad will walk in.

"It's weird to know my dad and your mom again,” I tell him when he comes back. “Overnight."

He laughs. "I bet.”

I’m trying to keep a hold on things, but it’s…unmooring. Even as I feel like shit about my past with Miller, I just want to fucking hug him, to be soothed by him.

I inhale, scrunching my brows. "What's that smell?"

"It’s Christmas cookies. You want?"

That reminds me of something—which makes me laugh. "Sugar is bad for you. I remember now, I had that idea down here. I was going to detox my whole body, and I was trying to go lite on sugar."

"Fucked that up for you," Mills says.

"You did. All those damn donuts. Hey, wait, Miller. I just thought of something. Since I remembered, I could see your mom and Carl, and I wouldn't have to explain why I don't know who they are now. Because…now I do know."

Josh laughs. "That's right. Shit, we're slow on the uptake.”

"Maybe I should tell him anyway,” I muse. “Just to get it off my chest."

"Maybe you should,” Mills says. “It's up to you."

"What are they doing tomorrow?" I ask.

"Seeing Ezra Masters in the flesh. The football star. The beautiful angel I’m in love with. Everybody’s gonna love you up. Feed you cookies. That's the whole plan."

"They might not feel how you do,” I say quietly.

"They're gonna feel exactly how I do. Listen, Ezra. Dinner's coming up, like in an hour. Don't stay up here for it. Let me unveil you as my new boyfriend. They're not mad. They'll be thrilled to see you. Plus, it’ll be sort of funny."

Josh

Beer battered chicken. It was always one of Ezra’s favorites, so I'm grinning as I walk into the kitchen. Mom's got on her Christmas apron—deep red with "We whisk you a Merry Christmas" in pale blue script. She's pulling something out of the oven. It's that pineapple, ritz, and cheese casserole she does for the holidays.

"Um, hey Mom?"

She sets it on the island and blinks up at me. I can't help laughing just from nerves.

"Yes, Joshua?"

I try to hide my grin. "Uh, where is Carl?"

"He's outside getting that broccoli casserole out of the car. I left it in the floorboard."

"Okay." I bite my lip, and Mom's eyes bug out. "You look…something."

"I have a surprise,” I say. “I might . But I need you and Carl to crack open a beer first. Drink like half of it—you know, half each. And both get really, really chill. Before I show you the surprise."

My mom is beaming. "Would this be a...living surprise? "

"Yes. It would be. And it's not a puppy." I open the fridge, pull out two Corona Lights, and pop one open for her. "Drink up."

Carl comes into the room, and Mom is grinning as she holds her beer up. "Look what Josh is mandating. He wants us to drink beer. Before he brings his boyfriend over."

I tell Carl sorry with my eyes—just because, right now, he doesn't know it's Ezra. I don't want to hurt him making him think I moved on from his son. Which is…just so fucking weird. This all is.

"I wanna see you both chug like four sips,” I tell them. “Then I'll go and get my surprise."

Mom opens Carl's top for him, like he can't do it himself, and I watch with a ridiculous grin as they both chug.

"You've gotta be nice to him," I murmur. "Really nice. Don't make it awkward. We need some unconditional good will up in here. Can you both promise?"

Carl looks puzzled, but my mom is nodding. "I'll get out the fourth plate right now. And Ezra's—the spare bedroom—has been readied."

I grin at them both, feeling like I'm the one who just had a beer. "Perfect. We'll be in here shortly."

Upstairs, I escort Ezra to his room and pick out clothes for him. He sits on the foot of his bed, looking wide-eyed and a little forlorn.

"This bedroom can't get you, angel. We've moved way past all that."

"Have we?" he asks. His voice sounds rough.

"Oh yeah. It’s a new timeline now, baby. College timeline."

I lay out some navy sweats and a white Nike sweatshirt on the bed beside him. "Does this seem okay? Too casual?"

He nods. "It's good." He pulls out his phone and looks at himself in the camera. "I guess my hair is darker. I don't remember why it got cut. It was near the ECT time. I think right after,” he says, looking pensive. "There’s still some days around there that feel hazy.”

I run my hands over his soft hair. “Dude, you look fucking amazing. I love how it's shorter on the sides, still, and it's hanging in your forehead a little." Ezra rubs his fingers through it.

"You look healthy. Fucking gorgeous. They know only what you tell them. We're young, we're both their kids, they’re gonna be happy, and we're about to spend Christmas humping like a couple of reindeer here under their roof. It's all gravy, man. I promise."

That makes him laugh. "Reindeer?"

"Jingle all the way, bruh." I hold my hand out. "Be my date for dinner? It's beer-battered chicken. Plus some casserole that has...wait for it. Pineapples. A healthy fruit ."

"Are they slathered in cheese and Ritz crackers?" He lets me help him up, arching a brow.

"Semantics."

Ezra laughs, and he takes my hand and squeezes it as we walk downstairs. "This is so weird," he says softly.

“I love you."

"I love you too," he whispers. We stop in the foyer, and he gives me a wide-eyed look. Then he's peering at the Christmas tree there in the family room.

"Hey, I've got an idea," I whisper.

I tell him to stay, and then I go over to the tree, sift behind the presents where my mom usually keeps the wrapping supplies, and reach into the bow bag.

I grab a red bow out. I’m grinning—almost laughing—as I prance over and stick it to Ezra's sweatshirt.

"What?” he whispers, sounding distressed. “Miller, what if they don't think I'm a present?"

"They'll think you're the best present. Can you trust me on that? Now that you remember how much they love you? ”

His eyes look teary as he nods once.

"C'mon, present."

I stop him by the tree. "You see those, wrapped in hunter green? My mom's been prepping for weeks for my important new boyfriend. I told her all about how much I love him."

"You did?"

I grin. "Yup. And what his favorite things are. So Santa can be sure to bring them."

"Fuck, I didn't know you did that,” he whispers.

I kiss his cheek, and I hear my mom's soft gasp. I look up, and she and Carl are in the doorway between dining room and kitchen, beaming like the proud parents they actually fucking are. In this case.

I don't know why, but it all seems so insane that I start laughing. Giggling, really. Ezra gives me a confused look, and then my mom is rushing over to us, throwing her arms around the two of us like we're both prodigal sons. Which I guess we actually fucking are. And Carl's there, too, and he's hugging all three of us.

"Is that a bow I see?" he asks in his slow, Southern drawl.

Ezra says, "Yeah. Josh put it on me. Hope that's okay."

My mom crows, "Of course it's okay!"

Carl can’t stop hugging us. "It's been a long time," he says. "We're so glad to see you, son."

He pulls away and gives Ezra a long look. He rubs his palm over Ezra's hair and says, "I like the color of this. Saw it on TV and I thought, that's a nice-looking young man there. Maybe looks like his dad." I’m pretty sure Carl’s eyes are welling.

By the time we break out of our eternal hug thing, Ezra's face looks shy, happy, embarrassed, and maybe like he's about to cry, too.

"I'm really sorry," he rasps. "That I left like that."

His eyes do well up now, and my mom hugs him. Which means she's hugging me, since I'm still holding Ezra's hand tight. " That's all ancient history to us, darling. We're so thrilled to see you! Have you here for Christmas. I talked to Josh the other day and I could hear the old Josh in his voice." She gives Ezra an adoring smile. "Come in the kitchen. Let us feed you."

The kitchen is buzzing with energy, with everybody talking on top of each other. With polite laughs and big smiles, and everybody trying so hard. And a lot of damn good-smelling food.

My mom asks Ezra to help her get rolls out of the oven. Carl murmurs to me, "A well-timed cold one," and winks. Ezra's eyes seek mine out both times we're more than two feet apart. Then he seems to find his footing.

We both pile our plates high, like maybe this is our last meal, and I think of the last dinner we had before Ezra left in November of 2018. How I didn't know that it would be the last one. And how that's really the way everything is. Nobody likes to say it out loud, but you never really know. About anything. So it's smart to savor what you've got. Whether it's a battered chicken leg or someone's socked foot rubbing your calf under the table, or corny dad jokes, or a midnight rooftop jerk off session.

Ezra tells Carl the most edited possible version of his story the next morning, with me beside him on the couch. And for the next half a day, I feel like Ez was right: It really doesn't feel like Christmas. Knowing Carl and my mom so well, I can feel the weight of what Ez told them, even as they move about the house, both clearly trying to be festive.

But then my cousins come to ice cookies, and little Hank, the evil seven-year-old, ends up icing Ezra's face and hair. And somehow, a fight breaks out with the flour. Ez and I are smearing it all over each other, and my Uncle James' dog Petey eats two sugar cookies, and by the end of it, the whole kitchen is filled with screaming family. Ezra's on his back on the floor, letting children paint him, and Carl is snapping pictures.

My mom gives me a grin. "You're on clean-up duty," she says. She quirks an eyebrow up at me and nods me over by the fridge.

"I got the Nintendo like you said, honey. But once I found out the boy is Ezra, I ordered all the games for it."

" All of the games?" I gape at her.

Mom shrugs. She leans in and whispers, "Also, a gift card to that bookstore in Tuscaloosa for four hundred dollars. I got you one, too, to your Auburn bookstore."

I take my mom by her hand and tug her into the dining room on a whim. "I'm going to have to have a heck of a shopping spree right after Christmas. Because, Mom..."

"Yes, honey?" Her eyes are peeling wide.

"I'm transferring to Tuscaloosa. Starting January."

Her jaw drops and her eyes pop out, and she looks like she might blow a gasket.

Finally she manages, "Does Ezra know this? I suppose he—"

"No, he doesn't. I'm giving us both Crimson Tide sweatshirts on Christmas morning. Dad knows, though, and we're working out the details."

"So it's serious?" she asks me softly.

"The most serious," I manage, my voice rasping as I say it.

"All that bit about the writing your name on his arm." My mom fans her reddening cheeks. "That's the stuff of real love stories, Joshua. That boy really loves you."

"I love him, too."

I'm wiping a tear when Ez runs into the dining room, covered in icing and beset by small children. "Get out of here!" My mother shoos them all back into the kitchen. Carl shoos them out the back door. Ezra collapses in the grass and my cousins jump on him. Wendy, the littlest, scoops some icing off his face and eats it.

"A good daddy, too," my mother whispers as we watch from the sidelines. "Just like Carl."

It's the last cringe moment until Carl gives Ez and me matching rainbow underwear on Christmas morning.

"Is that still cool?” he asks. “Rainbow stuff?"

Ezra and I look at each other.

"We don't know," I tell Carl. "We're baby gays. And we live in Alabama."

"I was thinking...you know...taste the rainbow."

And I die.We both die.

At least we’re together.