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The particular style of how he likes to pleasure.

I bite my lip and listen, hanging my head down and letting him continue, my lower belly filling with heat. Because I know what he is saying is true. I hope he can’t see it… can’t see that I like that side of Micah.

It’s why I was so drawn to him.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” he finally asks me. “You’ve seen it.”

I sniff and look up at him. “I’ve seen that side of him, yes. But he has a good side, too, Ezra. You have to have seen it. He takes care of people he genuinely loves. He’s not soulless; he’s just damaged.”

No one’s ever made me feel as alive as Micah has. How could someone who’s supposedly soulless do that to me?

“Tell me one good memory about him. One redemption moment, Ezra. He’s got to have one. It couldn’t have been all bad growing up.”

“Why the fuck should I?” he snipes.

I soften my gaze. “Because holding onto toxic memories will hurt you more than it will hurt him. You have to live your life differently now, and when the pain of what he did to you overwhelms you, hold on to something pleasant in your mind about him. That way, it will hurt less.”

Ezra grabs a bone from the muskrat he’s been drying on the fire and starts to pick his teeth with it, his face scrunched in a scowl as if it pains him to even come up with one happy thought about Micah.

“Just one, Ezra,” I encourage him. “One pleasant memory. It won’t kill you.”

He stokes the fire with a nearby stick. “He taught me how to shoot a puck properly.”

My eyes whip up, pulling my gaze away from the mesmerizing embers. “Keep going,” I urge him, giving him all my attention. “Tell me all about it.”

“I always struggled with the execution of shooting, and it was holding my game back. He spent a summer with me at the rink and taught me how to do it. Now I have the best shot on the entire team. He said if I was going to play on the same team as him, then I had to step it up because he doesn’t play with losers.”

I snicker. Such a Micah thing to say, and the image of them working together on something brings a smile to my face. I need to focus on my happy memories of him, too, because right now, my anger might destroy me. “See, he’s not all terrible.”

He merely scoffs. “You may be right, but he gets bored easily. And that’s why you’re here with me right now. Naomi gets bored, too, which is why she’s not here with me.”

My stomach turns. I hate thinking about Micah this way or about the possibility he’s with Naomi.

“So, are you going to try to move on from her, or are you just going to sulk?” I try to change the subject.

He sneers and jerks his head toward my wrist. “Are you going to tell me what happened to your hand, or should I just assume? You look like hell, London.”

I have no flippant response to that. Closing my eyes, I imagine the sensation of my hand gliding through those restraints. In a single instant, every bone that Micah had painstakingly mended for me shattered into fragments. It’s as if being broken is my destined state.

When I open my eyes, he’s studying me, then crosses his arms. “Like you, maybe I’m not over her yet, so sulking seems like the right thing to do.”

“You’re too good for her,” I tell him. “When we get out of here, I bet you’ll find a new girlfriend within a week. You’ll be the star hockey player in college and meet new girls. I bet they will throw themselves at you.”

He stares down at his missing fingers and shakes his head. “No, I won’t. Because Micah fucked that up for me, too. Plus, it’s always been Naomi. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re what, like nineteen now? You really think she is the one you are meant to be with? Just cut your damn hair, and you will have girls flocking to you, I promise. Hockey or no hockey. You’re a catch, Ezra. You just need to see your worth.” And get rid of this blind loyalty to Naomi, who doesn’t deserve it.

He scowls at me. “What do you mean, cut my hair? What’s wrong with my fucking hair?”

I arch a brow. “Well… I don’t know. It doesn’t really suit you. It makes your eyes look small and beady.”

“Fuck you. Naomi likes my long hair.”

I place my hand on his leg again. “Naomi’s not here, as you pointed out.”

His body bristles, but he’s not the only one who can remind me the one we really want isn’t here.

We sit in silence while he broods, my thoughts now consumed with Micah and how much I miss him. I watch Ezra, and I desperately want to know what’s going on in that brain of his, but I don’t dare ask. He’s calm right now and almost pleasant. I don’t want to ruin the moment by speaking.