Hissy Fit (The Southern Gentleman #1)(55)

I’d just handed out my class’s test, and was setting a timer on my desk when there was a knock on my door.

“All right, class,” I said, looking over the students, pausing when yet again Morgan’s no-show surprised me. “Time starts now. You have fifty minutes.”

Everyone turned their tests over at once and got right to work. Giddy with excitement that summer was right around the corner, I walked to the door with a smile on my face.

That smile widened exponentially when I saw Ezra on the other side.

“Hey!” I called, walking out and closing the door behind me.

I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, but he didn’t squeeze it back.

My smile slowly fell as I got a good look at his face.

“What is it?” I asked, worried now.

He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob with the movement.

“Jan’s gonna watch your class for a minute, come with me?” he asked.

I looked over at Jan, the school’s secretary who worked in the front office, and nodded. “Sure.”

We slipped by each other seamlessly, and I fell into step beside Ezra.

He didn’t say a word until we were in the staff breakroom.

“Ezra, what is it?” I asked, worried beyond belief at this point.

He pulled me until I was in his arms, and then he dropped the worst kind of bombshell on me ever.

“Morgan was hit by a drunk driver last night on his way home from a party. The friend, a kid from another school, is dead, and Morgan is in critical condition in the ICU.”

I closed my eyes and started to cry. “No.”

***

Morgan had been pronounced dead four times over the last forty-eight hours.

“He’s going to make it,” I said, so sure that I wasn’t the least bit worried. “He’s going to pull through. This is just another detour that he has to take, but he’s going to get out of that bed. I know it.”

Ezra wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me to him. “I know, baby.”

I felt like something was sitting on my chest, and I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to breathe if I took a step out of his embrace. For this reason, I stayed where I was and prayed that I was right. That Morgan really was going to live.

“They said that it was a young kid driving a black truck.”

We both looked up to find Ezra’s nephew standing there. “A big black one that is jacked up with big tires and has green stars on his wheels.”

I frowned. “Do you know him?”

Johnson’s eyes stayed locked on his uncle’s.

That’s when I felt Ezra’s body stiffen as he said, “Mackie has a truck just like that.”

“Really?”

Ezra nodded.

“Really.”

“Well then, call the sheriff and tell him!” I urged.

So Ezra did, but unfortunately, Mackie had a solid alibi and not a single dent on his pretty truck.

Who was his alibi, you ask? Coach Casper.

But the timing was off, the suspicion was there, and everyone was watching.

I should’ve known then that there was something uncomfortably wrong with that picture, but I didn’t.





Chapter 20


Why is it called ‘throat punch Thursday?’ Why can’t it be ‘I can throat punch you no matter what day of the week it is’ day?

-Raleigh to Ezra

Raleigh

Four and a half months later

“How was Morgan?” Ezra asked as he walked in the door to my place—our place.

Ezra had officially moved in last week, and we were now living together like one very happy couple.

“Morgan’s up, moving around, and complaining that he’s ready to get out of the rehab part of the hospital and get home. He says it’s not any better than the actual hospital was.” I laughed. “It was good to see him smiling.”

Ezra groaned and fell onto the couch face first. “That’s good to hear. I wanted to go see him, but I didn’t find time before visiting hours were up.”

We’d done a lot of visiting with Morgan over the last couple of weeks.

Since both Ezra and I had a lot of time on our hands thanks to school letting out, we’d used it to our advantage.

How had we done that?

By moving in together, visiting Morgan, and starting various football and baseball camps for kids of all ages.

Well, I didn’t participate in the football camps. I participated by offering my moral support from the sidelines where I sat under an umbrella in my fancy zero-gravity chair with a cooler of cold Dr. Peppers and munchies.

But I was there, and available to help if I was needed—which ended up being a whole lot more than I thought was needed.

“How was work?” I teased.

Ezra rolled over onto his back.

“After you left you mean?” he questioned.

I nodded. “It reached a hundred and four, and the athletic trainer called practice until the rain cooled it down ten degrees. But then it was so humid it felt like we were in a sauna, and I called practice because I had sweat dripping down my balls.”

I giggled and walked to the kitchen, snatching my phone from the countertop.

“Do you still want to go on a date?” I teased.

He’d promised me that today would be the day that we celebrated our eight-month anniversary—and not the anniversary of us becoming an official couple since we couldn’t actually remember—but when he dropped a box of condoms on my face and finally noticed me.