CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 49

EZRA

I woke up to silence. No birds, no Genevieve knocking on my door, no buzzing notifications.

Just the soft gray light creeping through my curtains.

I turned to my bedside clock. 6:00 a.m.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” I whispered. My voice cracked halfway through.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time. Normally, I’d at least cry on this day. But today, I felt… nothing.

Not peaceful. Not healed. Just numb.

Like something in me had switched off overnight.

By the time choir practice came around that afternoon, I’d convinced myself to just go through the motions. Sing. Nod. Leave.

Genevieve had stopped me in the hallway, pressed her hand to my cheek like she used to when I was a kid, and said, “Your mother would be proud, Ezra. Don’t let your grief drown your light.”

I smiled politely, mumbled a thank you, and kept walking.

Inside the choir hall, Lily waved when she saw me. Jordan gave me one of her quiet nods from the corner.

I stood in front of the choir. The piano was warm under my fingers. Music always helped me breathe.

“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands lightly. “Page thirty-four. From the top.”

Voices rose. The room filled with melody. For a brief second, the numbness cracked, and I felt something stir in my chest. Not joy. But something close enough to hold on to.

And then Nico walked in.

Like a shadow sliding through sunlight.

His slicked-back hair. That too-clean smile. The way he always scanned me like he was peeling away layers.

He leaned against the doorway and just… watched.

The choir finished the verse, and I took a breath to correct the altos when he stepped forward.

“You have a natural gift,” Nico said loudly. His voice dripped with charm that felt fake. “Your voice commands the room. It’s… intoxicating.”

Several people turned their heads. A few giggled awkwardly.

I forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Father Nico. Let’s continue—”

“And the way you lead them.” He stepped closer. “Strong. But gentle. Very rare for someone so young.”

The room went still. His hand landed on my shoulder. Again.

That same disgusting, claiming touch.

I froze.

“Father, we’re in the middle of practice,” I said softly.

He leaned in just enough that only I could hear. “I know. That’s what makes it fun.”

Something in me snapped.

“Get your hand off me,” I said. Out loud. Clear. Sharp.

The entire room went quiet.

Lily’s eyes widened. Jordan’s brow shot up. A soprano gasped.

Nico blinked, looking surprised for half a second before smiling. “Oh, Ezra, no need to be dramatic—”

“I said,” my voice rose, shaking now with anger I didn’t know I had, “get your hand off me.”

He lifted his hand slowly, like he was humoring me. “Apologies,” he said smoothly. “Didn’t mean to upset our little star.”

I saw red.

I slammed the music sheet shut and stormed out of the room.

The hallway was cold. My shoes echoed against the tiles as I walked fast, almost running. My chest burned. My hands shook.

“Ezra!”

I froze.

His voice. Deep. Commanding.

Father Dorian.

I kept walking.

“Ezra,” he called again, footsteps behind me now.

And then his hand caught my wrist. Firm. Unyielding. He pulled me into one of the side corridors, the kind people rarely used.

The second the door shut, he wrapped his arms around me.

I stiffened. “Father—”

“Stop,” he said quietly. “Breathe.”

His chest was solid against my cheek. His hands pressed against my back like he was holding me together.

And that’s when everything broke.

I started crying. Loud, messy, ugly crying. The kind that rips out of you because you’ve held it in too long.

“I—We—” I choked, trying to pull away. “We sinned. I can’t—I can’t let you—”

He didn’t let go.

“Ezra,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”

I shook my head.

“Ezra,” his voice hardened. “Look. At. Me.”

I lifted my tear-streaked face.

His eyes were dark and intense. “You are not dirty,” he said slowly. “You are not broken. And you are not alone.”

“But we—” I hiccuped. “We did… that. And today’s my mom’s birthday and I—how could I—”

My knees buckled, but he caught me.

“You’re human,” he said. “You’re allowed to feel. To want. To hurt. None of this makes you less of the person your mother loved.”

I sobbed harder, pressing my forehead against his chest. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“I hate him,” I whispered.

“Nico?”

I nodded.

“I do too,” he said darkly. “But he doesn’t get to own a single part of you. You hear me?”

I nodded again, shakily.

He squeezed me tighter. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Something warm spread through me—not lust. Not guilt. Just… something steady. Safe.

For once, I didn’t push him away.

When we finally walked back toward the choir hall, my eyes were puffy, but my chest felt lighter. Lily was waiting outside like an anxious mother hen.

She looked at me, then at Dorian behind me, then back at me.

“You good?” she asked softly.

I wiped my face. “Yeah. I think so.”

Jordan peeked from inside the room and gave a small nod like she approved of whatever had just happened.

Nico was nowhere to be seen.

Good.