Warning: This chapter gets emotional. Just remember, there's a happy ending.
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The next few nights that Brady stayed with him Ezra didn't have a nightmare. Each night, Brady would lie beside him, his large body covering Ezra in a way that let him know he was safe.
Ezra didn't think it was possible to feel happier. He felt clean and whole for the first time. One night while everyone was watching TV, Ezra felt so happy that he couldn't do anything but cry. His parents sat in their respective recliners, his mother trying to learn to knit and his father shaking his head as the news anchor listed the world's problems. Brady was beside him on the couch, holding his hand like it was a treasure.
Happy tears started to roll down his face. Ezra was very quiet, but Brady noticed and pulled him close. In Brady's arms, Ezra felt completely safe, surrounded by warmth. He rested his head on Brady's muscular chest and let Brady's steady heartbeat comfort him to sleep.
Sometimes he would wake up when Brady was carrying him to bed, but he pretended to be sleeping still because the way Brady treated him made him feel special. Brady was always so gentle, and he made sure that all the blankets were covering Ezra and the red one was right next to his face so that if he woke up scared at any point that night he would have the unbelievably soft blanket to remind him of his parents' love.
During the days, Ezra and Brady would stay in the house alone together. They watched movies and Brady taught Ezra how to play card games. Sometimes they just sat in silence, holding each other closely. Ezra liked that the most. He liked being kissed and being told he was loved. He liked Brady's big hands moving over his body. Brady didn't care about the scars and that made Ezra start to feel less insecure. His bad memories started to fade and even though the marks were still there and always would be, Ezra felt that he could accept that and didn't hate himself anymore.
**
Brady knew that the long weekend had to end eventually, but it was still depressing to go to school that Monday. Brady couldn't wait for Thanksgiving and Christmas, when they could spend more long days together, uninterrupted by the world outside.
Brady preferred to stay with the Lockheart family, but he felt like he was overstaying his welcome. After school that day he went home to test the waters. If he couldn't move back in, he would at least take all of his stuff, including some of the cash he'd tucked away.
The house was empty when he got there and Brady started to walk around. He looked at the pictures on the walls. Most of them where of his mother and stepdad, and their daughter and son. There were a few of Brady as a child, and those were the ones he looked at. He saw one of him and his grandmother. He looked happy and he felt the echoes of the pain left by her death.
Growing up, Brady didn't understand a lot of things. It wasn't until he was older that he realized he was unwanted. His biological father wasn't around, probably didn't even know his name. His mother blamed him for the fact that she never finished college. The rest of his family was a bunch of judgmental Southerners who hated that they were associated with the shame of a fatherless child. He took the picture frame off the wall and slid the photo out. Grandma wasn't like the others. She never blamed him for something he couldn't help.
He knew he couldn't stay there. If the Lockhearts couldn't take him in, he would just live in his truck. He went to his room. It had been trashed, but Brady had half-way expected that. His clothes were piled in the middle of the room. Gingerly, he picked up one of the garments and it smelled like piss and beer. He dropped it back in the pile and looked under the bed. At least Steve hadn't found this. Rolled up and tucked inside a sock was all the money Brady had to his name. Two hundred dollars he'd earned doing odd jobs for local ranchers was all he had to start his new life with.
**
When he tried to offer the money to Ezra's parents, they wouldn't accept it.
"You've already paid us back," Mr. Lockheart said. "We know that you and Ezra are close."
"And we're OK with it," Mrs. Lockheart added rapidly.
Brady nodded. "I just don't want to be a burden on you guys."
"You won't be," Mr. Lockheart said. "We aren't rich, but we have enough. It won't hurt us financially."
"Brady, we would be glad to have you stay with us," Mrs. Lockheart said, putting her hand on his shoulder.
**
It was Friday night and the Westmore Bulldogs were playing their district rivals, the Thornton Panthers. It was halfway through the second quarter and the coach was fuming. The Panthers had a 21-7 lead.
Finally the coach found his target. He stormed over to Paul and grabbed him by his shoulder pads. "What the hell, boy! You are slower than a damn goat in rubber boots! You're out!"
Brady knew what came next. Paul was out of the game, Brady was in. They won. Brady was the big hero of the night. Paul was out for revenge.
Brady was an emotional wreck the whole weekend. What could he do? He had nothing to give Paul but money, and Paul didn't need that. He was pretty sure that he was about to be thrust out of the closet, and his innocent angel would be the one hurt the most.
**
