Ezra had felt like crap all week. Of course he felt completely betrayed. But at the same time, Jacob had killed Phantom's brother. That was... it was just... He still didn't have words for it.

After storming off, he'd texted his mother saying he'd come get her the next day. He hadn't wanted to see his brother again. On the flight, his mother had sat next to him, pale and silent. Eventually, she asked what was going to happen now between him and Phantom.

It had struck him that she didn't immediately see Phantom as some asshole who wanted her son dead. He'd been honest and told her he was devastated, and that Phantom hadn't looked much better. She had taken his hand and squeezed it. It was the first time he'd felt any real comfort from her.

Once he was home, he'd gone to see his best friend. Tyson, of course, didn't have any instant answers either; he'd needed half an hour just to take it all in.

"Do you think he really would've done it?"

Ezra hadn't been able to answer. And that question still haunted him.

He'd seen Phantom's rage, his brokenness. He knew his boyfriend had killed three people before—so yes, he was capable of it.

But this time, it would've hurt both him and his mother deeply—and Phantom must've known that. He had no doubt that was why Phantom had started pulling away after Jacob reconnected with their mom.

Ezra didn't know.

What he did know was that Jacob—now, a week later—was still alive. And yesterday, Phantom had asked if they could talk. Apparently, revenge was no longer his top priority.

Maybe he was crazy for waiting on him now. Lacey would definitely think so. She hadn't been a fan of Phantom from the start. He'd only dared to tell Tyson the truth.

The doorbell ripped him from his thoughts. Ezra's fingertips tingled as if the blood had stopped flowing. He clenched his fists, released them again, then stood and walked to the door.

There was a dull ache in his chest and stomach as he opened it. No cocky grin this time. Phantom barely glanced at him before lowering his eyes to the doormat and mumbling a greeting.

"Hey. Come in."

Phantom looked up, as if confused by Ezra's kindness. But what else was he supposed to do? He'd spent a week asking himself what he would've done in Phantom's shoes, and honestly—he still didn't know. Sure, the man had used him to find his brother's killer. But Ezra refused to believe that was all there'd been between them.

Phantom had said he loved him—and Ezra believed that.

And even now, seeing him standing there, still uncertain, still broken, Ezra believed it. This guy had been crushed by life, and his brother was partly responsible.

Ezra didn't believe they'd crossed paths by coincidence. Maybe he was exactly what Phantom needed—and vice versa.

"I thought you'd hate me," Phantom mumbled as he stepped inside.

Ezra had the urge to take his hand, to hold him close. But deep down, he knew it was smarter to give him space. A hug could lead to a kiss, a kiss to a touch—and before they knew it, they'd be half-naked against the wall instead of actually talking.

And that's what Phantom had asked for. A conversation. Someone to listen.

Ezra glanced over his shoulder. "I would've hated you if I thought you were playing with my feelings. But something sparked between us that very first night—and it was real. My brother had nothing to do with that." He sat on the couch and gestured for Phantom to join him. "And the fact that you're here, instead of running away from your mistakes—that matters to me."

Phantom sat beside him. Ezra noticed he wasn't wearing his kutte. "I was terrified you'd ignore me. But I had to try." He took a deep breath, then looked him in the eye. "I know this sounds insane, but I never meant for us to end. That need to avenge my brother... I just couldn't shake it. But I didn't want it to destroy what we had. It had to look like an accident—an electrical fire. And when I heard how difficult your brother had been for you, for your mom, it felt like confirmation that I was doing the right thing. After his death, I would've caught you. Been there for you. Helped you grieve. I would've been the person for you that I never had fifteen years ago."

Ezra tore his gaze away. The way Phantom had planned it all made something in him go ice-cold.

As cold as Phantom himself must've felt for a very long time.

"I hate what my brother did." Ezra swallowed hard. "I keep thinking about it. How it happened. Why he..." He shook his head violently. "I don't think he even remembers."

"I remember the gunshots. The blood. And—and his grin. That same grin he still has." Phantom's voice shook. "He pointed the gun at me, said 'boom!' and laughed. Then he just walked away."

Ezra shut his eyes. The lump in his throat was massive. The worst part was—he could see it. This didn't sound like a calculated hit. His brother had enjoyed it. The guy had a younger brother himself and yet laughed at the image of a terrified teen next to his dying brother.

Ezra had poured so much time and money into helping his brother. He'd always tried to keep him out of trouble, at the cost of many relationships. And now he saw how rotten his brother truly was. How pointless all that effort had been.

A tear slid down his cheek. Then another.

Phantom shifted on the couch. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, and then the man climbed over him and held him close. Ezra leaned into him, slid his arms under Phantom's, and hugged him tight.

Phantom's scent calmed him. His body was strong and warm and so full of life. Life that Jacob could've taken with one move. The only reason he hadn't was because he was a sadist.

Phantom rested his forehead against Ezra's. "I know I'm fucked up," he whispered. "I don't know what to do with myself, with this obligation I feel to avenge my brother. But I do know this, Ezra: I love you. And if I have to choose, I'll choose you. Then... we'll figure out what to do with that darkness."

Ezra looked into his eyes, which held no trace of darkness now. He believed him. He didn't care if others called him naive—he knew Phantom was sincere. "I love you too." He brushed his fingers along his smooth cheek. "I want to be that light in your darkness."

He kissed him—more intimately than ever before. It was slow, deliberate, setting every nerve on fire. If he wanted to keep someone on the right path, it was this man. And he wanted that.

His fingers traced Phantom's neck, Phantom's hands stroked his beard. It felt like a lifetime since they'd been this close, with no more barriers between them.

He gasped softly when Phantom kissed his neck. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too." The words came out in a hot breath. A fog rose in his mind. Unspoken words retreated into the shadows.

Their hands, their mouths—they had their own conversation.

Ezra's palms moved over Phantom's thighs, over his hips. He caught his friend's lips after a trail of kisses down his neck, pausing in silent question.

Ezra answered by pulling off his shirt. Phantom followed suit, and Ezra let his fingers wander over his skin, across ink and muscle. He lowered his head and kissed the places his hands had just been.

Phantom threaded his fingers through his hair and moaned when Ezra tugged gently at his nipple with his teeth. He felt Phantom's arousal pressing against his stomach and pressed his palm against it.

Ezra had wanted to take his time, to draw it out forever—but at the same time, he wanted more. He wanted everything. He palmed Phantom through his pants, who tilted his head up and kissed him hard.

The heat between their lips flared, dancing across their tongues. Their hands moved more urgently, and eventually, the tension grew so intense they shrugged off the rest of their clothes.

Phantom still straddled him, knees on either side of the couch. His strong hands kneaded Ezra's shoulders. "Bedroom?"

Ezra's hands cupped his ass. "No." He rested his head against the couch. "I want you to ride me right here, so I'll never be able to sit here again without thinking of this."

Phantom gave him a loaded grin. "You do know I don't care much for speed limits, right?"

Ezra bit his lip and met his gaze. "Mmhmm."

Phantom gave him a long, intense kiss without breaking eye contact, then stood and walked to the bedroom. Ezra heard the drawer open.

He shifted and moved to the lounge section of the couch. He propped a cushion behind his head and heard Phantom's footsteps return.

The man planted one foot on the edge of the couch, coated his fingers in lube, and began stretching himself while keeping his gaze locked on Ezra.

God, what a menace. Ezra's cock ached. He fumbled the tossed bottle, grabbed blindly, then slicked himself up and leaned back.

Phantom climbed on top of him, knees sinking into the couch. One hand rested on Ezra's chest, the other guiding him in. His grip was firm as he sank down onto him.

Ezra groaned as his tip was swallowed by that heat, sliding deeper, being completely enveloped. He brought his hands to Phantom's hips but resisted the urge to thrust.

Phantom was in control now—and Ezra wanted to give in to that. His lover leaned in, pulling his face closer with one hand. Their lips brushed, and Phantom met his gaze with searing intensity.

Phantom rolled his hips. He sank lower, then rose again. Slowly. Torturously slow. Their eyes stayed locked.

A teasing comment flitted through Ezra's mind about Phantom clearly not meaning that kind of speed—but it felt so intimate and so good that all he could manage was a ragged breath.

The muscles clenched around him and he dug his fingers into Phantom's hips, who rocked forward again. Ezra felt himself slide deeper—so tight, so good, he moaned in delight.

He pulled him closer, wrapped a hand around Phantom's cock, stroking in the same gentle rhythm. Those eyes—those beautiful grey eyes—were like a fire he didn't want to look away from, knowing there was only cold beyond it.

With every movement, Phantom pushed him closer to the edge. Toward that searing fire that burned away thought and demanded total surrender.

Their breathing quickened, soft moans floating between them. It felt like a breeze inside him, swelling with every exhale.

Phantom groaned. He shifted and dropped down harder this time. His nails dug into Ezra's skin. The pace quickened.

Ezra tried to match it with his hand, but the storm building inside him made it hard to focus. The fog in his mind thickened. Only Phantom's eyes still pierced through, staring into his soul, drinking in every wave of pleasure crashing through his body.

He gripped Phantom's hips and thrust upward—deeper, harder.

"Fuck, yeah. Right there."

He didn't even know who said it. The breeze had become a storm and they clung to each other, shaking, until they lay panting, drifting in a sea surrounded by the wreckage of who they used to be.

It didn't matter who they'd been. What mistakes they'd made.

They had each other now—and whatever storms came, they'd face them together.

. . .

One more chapter and we're done, guys!