Wrath (Sinful Secrets, #4)

by Ella James

"It says that he's going back to his mom's.”

“He says...he wants to move back." Carl's brow furrows as he looks at me. "Josh, did something happen?"

"I said no. Nothing.”

“I want to see the text.” Carl hesitates for just a second, but I snatch it away, my heart pounding so damn hard I think I’ll pass out.

I think it’s good to finish out the year up there with Mom. For closure. Thanks for letting me stay with you. I enjoyed the time a lot. Talk soon- Love Ezra’

“That…can’t be true.”

“That can’t be what he really said. He was...

But Carl’s right. He’s fucking right, goddammit. Everything is gone. But not his toothbrush.

“Hey Ezra? What’s the matter, man? I’m really worried. Please call. I don’t believe you would just go. Without some kind of…I don’t know. Did your mom find out? About us?”

"Ez. It’s me. Are you okay? Can I come see you? Can you call me?"

"Josh—" “Did you talk to him?” I ask her. “No.” "Then get out!"

"Ezra, please! Please call me, angel. I don't know what I did wrong, but call me. Please. I want to know that you're okay. I need to."

I hurl my phone at th...

Hey Millsy. I’m so sorry. I love you. I miss you more than words can even convey. I miss you so much, sometimes I think I can’t keep breathing without you. I’m in here again. At Sheppard Pratt.

When Dad called her to tell her I’m gay and they should support me and be proud, he didn’t know what trouble it would kick off. As soon as Mom found out that I’ve been ‘living the gay lifestyle’ in Fairplay, she went ballistic. She’s a zealot, and there’s nothing worse to her than a gay son.

I love you. Please stay safe. Don’t ride bikes and don’t have any seizures. Love me- okay? Can you please still love me? Even if it’s been a while? I’ll always love you too.

I don't do that anymore—the voicemails. I just can't. I don't think I've called in...eight days? It's not because I don't want to. I do. I want to call him every minute of the day, every day of the week. Not knowing what happened—not knowing where things went wrong—is like having an itch that I can never scratch.

He was depressed. I can’t deny he never really seemed okay. But I thought I was helping him. That being with me made things easier. What a fucking idiot I was. I thought we were in love. I did. I walk over the train tracks, back toward the Isabella mansion, where I parked. We were in love. I thought how I felt, how he felt, was real. But it wasn't.

But I don’t give a shit. Not really. What am I really missing? Other than this weird-ass tattoo. It’s a blurry weekend. Maybe it’s the pills, but I feel sped-up. Panicked. When I get in bed at night, I can’t sleep, and I end up playing on my new cell phone for hours. Mom says I must have lost the old one. We can’t find it.

"What, losing my fucking memory?" She recoils at my F-bomb. Regret swamps me. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you or anything."

"I need a marker. To write stuff...on my arm." The words slur. I can't write because this stuff makes me shake. But I try. MILLER.

Who…or what is MILLER?

I put my hand over the tattoo on my chest and say my new name in my head: Miller.

It’s a clean name. Sounds good. Like a good person who wants to have a good life. It sounds like a fresh start.

You're okay. You're not at Alton, angel.

You’re okay. You’re not at Alton, angel.

"If it was anybody's fault he left, it was my fault,”

got too close to him, and I don't know if he liked it." "He did like you, Josh. I could always see it. It wasn't that he didn't like you."

"Doesn't matter," I tell her. "It's over now."

It's only Xanax. I don't take them every night. Just when I feel like my chest is on fire. I chew it like Ezra did and lie in the dark till sleep takes me.

You know what is hard? My dick. All he posts is workout vids. He’s doing two-a-days. Sounds like he’s going to Montevallo to play soccer based on his posts.

I watched him once this morning already. It’s giving me life. Just another secret. Got so fucking many, what’s one more? Stalker vibes here.

Josh Miller is not at Montevallo. Josh Miller appears to be at Auburn.

look up, frowning, at...whoa—this hot, hot guy. He's on the bar stool by mine. "I saw you," he says in a soft and low voice, holding a phone up. "On Snapchat." He arches a brow.

He's as beautiful as Ezra, but with different features. My stomach pitches from the mere sound of that name in my brain. I fix my gaze on the guy beside me,

"You checkin' me out, JMills?"

Fuck, his back and shoulders are ripped. I can see the ridges of muscle beneath his black shirt as he moves. His jeans hang on his hips. And what an ass. That body’s made for fucking. Shit, this guy is a walking fantasy. He leads me into a door and down a dimly lit hall to a closet. In the closet, there's a leather couch.

"Such a pretty boy," he murmurs. His hand trails over my shoulder and down my arm, squeezing my triceps lightly. “What sport?” he asks.

"I can tell from your calves. You're either in the gym twice a day, or you're doing sports."

"These babies are from the gym," he says as his hand caresses my quads. "But I bet you're a real athlete. Am I right?"

groan, spreading my legs. "Oh so she's got hot from drinking."

"That's because you're young, sweetie. I bet you're not even twenty-one yet."

"Tell me," he says, stroking back down over my knee. I rasp, "Soccer,"

"That's what I thought. An Alabama athlete. Freckles,"

"All-American," he breathes on my skin. "Athletic and down to earth, but still a pretty, pretty boy. Such soft ...

"Fuck. You feel good." It's a rough whisper. His fingers close around me, dragging upward, as he leans in closer and his other hand unbuttons my pants. "One handed," I manage. "Oh yes." He gets me out with practiced care, pumping my shaft even as he's taking my cock out of my underwear.

I'm shuddering because his mouth is soft and hot. His hand comes under my balls, cupping, stroking my sac lightly, as he blows me fast...and— I'm groaning. "Ahh fuck," I whimper.

"I'm gonna make you come, freckles. When I get going, you won't have a choice, so this is your time to tell me if you're underage or I should use a condom."

"I'm...tested," I manage. "I got tested two days ago,"

"Don't do this again, though. Always bring a flavored condom and make the guy put it on you. Okay, babe?"