The Assassins Kiss

Chapter 34

Ezra's POV

I walk up the stone path, each step heavier than it should be, and push open the front door to my house.

As soon as I step inside, I glance across the living room and... there it is. Again.

Luca and Lily, sound asleep on the couch.

I let out a sigh and walk over.

Why? Just—why does this keep happening?

I still don't get it. How she forgave him so fast. Maybe it's because she's still a kid. Or maybe... maybe she just needs him in a way I can't understand.

I reach down and tap Lily gently.

Her eyes flutter open, and she looks over at Luca. "We fell asleep again," she mumbles, then shoots me a sleepy thumbs-up. "At least he's not dead."

"Mmhm." I force a smile.

"How was the date?" she asks.

"Terrible," I want to say. Instead: "I'll tell you later. Go to bed."

She stands and drags herself upstairs without another word.

Once she's gone, I shift my attention to the human corpse still drooling on my couch. Luca's mouth is wide open. Dead asleep. Literally looks dead.

...Kinda cute.
Wait—no. Ew. Absolutely not.
Gross.

I jab him. Hard.

He jolts awake like I just defibrillated him. "Okay, what is it this time? I'm not covered in blood."

I roll my eyes. "You were snoring. Loudly. And you drooled."

He rubs his chest dramatically. "You poked me like ten times, violently, for the record."

God, he's so dramatic.

"Why were you up with Lily?" I ask, crossing my arms. "Did Iris send you?"

"No, she didn't."

"Oh." I nod. "So you sent yourself."

"Also no. Lily sent herself."

Of course she did. That's... just great. Perfect, really.

"Yeah, no. That's not happening anymore," I say, shaking my head.

"What?" he frowns.

"No more. Don't talk to her anymore."

He stares at me, blank-faced.

"The last time I said this, you ignored me. This time? You won't." I step closer. "No more talking to her."

"If she talks to me—"

"Then ignore her. Simple."

"I'm not ignoring her. I'm not doing th—"

"You can and you will. I don't care."

He's still looking at me like I'm the villain. Maybe I am. Doesn't matter.

"I don't know why you're fighting me on this," I say, quieter now. "You don't get to get close again. Not after last time. Not just to leave."

He opens his mouth, but I'm already cutting him off.

"She was six, Luca. You promised you'd stay in touch. You promised you'd be her dad. Then you disappeared. You left her, and what—started another family?"

(Not that that worked out for him. The girl cheated. Karma, maybe.)

"Do you think you deserve to be her father?" I ask.