Zeke half-laughed, half-sobbed in her arms.
“No. Something happened with his old colleague that he met upstairs. He was fine before he met her.”
He’d been more than fine. In the courtyard, Zeke looked the happiest and the most relaxed Noah had ever seen him. His pretty blue eyes had lit up every time Noah laughed.
“I guess I’m just realising that I thought… deep down… that they would sort it all out. That it would be a big misunderstanding. That I would be able to go… home,” Zeke said, choking out the last word.
The words hit Noah like a slap. Even after everything he’d done to make Zeke feel safe and secure in his squad, he still wanted to go home. Noah’s brain couldn’t process it, because to him, Squad E washome. And now, Squad E wouldn’t be the same without Zeke.
“Oh, Zeke,” said Frankie, stroking his hair out of his eyes.
Noah raised his wristband. “I’ll call Brian and see if he can pick us up early.”
“No! Please don’t. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s night. You two should go back inside.” Zeke, somewhat calmer now, slumped against the wall, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. His glasses poked out of his shirt pocket.
Frankie tutted. “Don’t be stupid. I was getting tired in there, anyway. Those other girls are crazy.”
“Can you tell us what happened, Zeke? What did he get arrested for then?” Noah asked.
Zeke breathed out shakily. “I don’t believe it’s true. I don’t want you guys thinking that’s what we were doing there.”
“You’ve never really told us what you even did at Oakfield. What does a research assistant even do?” The wind picked up; a gust of chilly air blew damp leaves at them. One landed on Zeke’s head. Noah brushed it off, smoothing down his hair where it had been. In this light, it looked almost strawberry blonde.
Zeke raised his voice to shout over the wind. “We were clinical researchers collecting evidence for multiple studies. Most of the stuff they gave me and Oliver—he was another graduate student like me—to do was super basic. Rebecca was the Senior Associate, and she directed us most of the time. Doctor Harding was in and out. He had a lot of meetings. But when he was around, he was great. He would often spend extra time with Oliver and I, and was eager to help us progress in our careers.”
Zeke broke off to rub his arms, shivering. It was too cold to be sitting on the pavement. Noah shuffled closer, pressing his legs to Zeke’s.
“Anyway, Rebecca said… she said they arrested him for testing experimental drugs on children.” Zeke glanced between them, and Noah didn’t try to hide the look of shock surely plastered on his face.Children? “I said to her it was ridiculous, but apparently they’ve got enough evidence to charge him. It sounded like Beccabelievesit,” he added, his voice laced with melancholy.
“If you had nothing to do with it, you don’t need to feel guilty,” Noah said gently, nudging his arm against his. Stop touching him.Thank goodness Frankie was here. He’d spent the evening overstepping boundaries and then torturing himself for doing so—he needed no more opportunities.
It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment his grossly inappropriate crush had irreversibly taken hold of him, sinking its teeth deep into his heart. Was it as far back as two months ago, when he’d scooped Zeke out of the stampede, clutched him to his chest, and Zeke looked up at him so trustingly, with those impossibly blue eyes? Was it when he saw Zeke copy him by stealthily feeding Wolf the crusts of his sandwiches? Or was it during combat training last Friday, watching him get up off of the ground again and again, even when he was bleeding?
It certainly didn’t help that—ever since the night he saved him—he often caught Zeke outright staring at him, quickly averting his gaze whenever their eyes met. Zeke had almost definitely developed some sort of hero worship, which Noah shouldn’t take advantage of.Wouldn’ttake advantage of.
“Noah?”
He snapped back to reality to see Frankie staring at him.
“It’s raining. Shall we go inside?”
Small, shiny droplets of water crowned Frankie’s braids. He was about to reply when a loud commotion around the corner distracted him.
“Is that Splat shouting?” Noah rose to his feet, tugging at Zeke’s sleeve for him to follow, then led the way back towards the club. He already had a pretty good idea of what they were about to face: he would recognise those loud, drunken shouts anywhere.
The first thing he noticed was Splat’s bloody lip. He was being physically restrained by Vitt, who pinned both of his arms behind his back. If it were any of the other men, she might have struggled, but Vitt was an inch taller and—apparently—stronger than Splat. Luo was standing ten feet away, arguing with a bouncer, who was blocking his path to Splat. To Noah’s horror, he pushed the bouncer, earning him a sharp kick in the stomach.
“Stop!” Noah commanded. He couldn’t risk any of them being too injured for duty, or worse: arrested. But, most of all, it was painful to see his two friends with so much animosity in their expressions. To his credit, Luo obeyed, turning and going to slouch on the wall, arms crossed and eyes on the pavement.
“What the hell happened?” he snapped at Vitt, without even a glance at Splat.
“Damned if I know. I saw Splat shove Luo before he punched him back. By the time I reached them, security had thrown them out.”
“Get off me!” Splat writhed in her grip.
Vitt glanced behind Noah, to where Frankie and Zeke leaned against a lamppost, a safe distance away. “What was up with Zeke? Jesus, was there something in the beer this evening?”
Noah waved her question away and grabbed hold of Splat’s shirt with two hands. “Vitt will let go of you when you calm down and tell us what happened.”
