My dad glances back at the doorway and makes a small gesture. "Alex’s dad is a prosecutor, and it just so happens that we’ve met before. He’s going to help us with the civil case against the Hansons."
I look up at the omega. What strikes me is how much older he looks compared to my dad. His hair is gray and his face is tired and stern. He isn’t unattractive, just a completely different type of beauty from what I like. Alex didn’t inherit his looks from him, except maybe the short height and light hair.
The man gives me a brief nod.
"I’ve heard plenty about those people. I know they’re a menace at school and outside it as well. It will be good to stop at least a few of them." His voice is formal and firm, like he’s already presenting his case in court.
"Thank you," I manage with some effort. For some reason, I want to be on good terms with Alex’s dad.
I glance at Alex again. He’s staring at me as if I’m something miraculous, and the familiar wave of not deserving anything good washes over me again.
Then I look at my dad. "What exactly is wrong with me?" I push through my swollen lips.
"Bruised ribs, a second-degree concussion, a dislocated jaw, black eyes and of course bruising everywhere…"
"Will I be able to go to school?" I don’t know why this suddenly matters to me, but the idea of being alone at home while everyone else is out doesn’t appeal to me anymore.
"Well, no, probably for two or three weeks at least, maybe longer," my dad says quietly.
"I’ll help you," Alex blurts out. "With all the schoolwork, I’ll come every day and bring you all the materials from class so you won’t fall behind later."
"Thank you, Alex, but your dad needs to approve that," my dad says, looking at Prosecutor Strada.
"No problem. Bay protected Alex a few times already. If we can return the favor, we’ll gladly do it," he replies in the same stiff tone. Maybe that’s just how he always talks at work.
A moment later my parents and Alex’s dad step outside to talk about the police and legal matters. Alex leans toward me and suddenly kisses me on the cheek, quick and light.
A wave of confusion and panic washes over me.
"I’m so glad you’re alive, Bay," he whispers, voice shaking. "There were moments when I thought you gave up. When they were hitting you, it was awful… I wanted to scream and call for help so badly, but one of them kept his hand over my mouth, I couldn’t break free, I couldn’t help you."
I sigh, feeling exhaustion roll over me.
"Alex, don’t beat yourself up. I’ll get through this and things will go back to normal…" I murmur, still feeling the faint warmth of his lips on my cheek.
My eyes drop to my feet under the hospital blanket. I wish, I secretly dream that he would do it again, but then I mentally slap myself.
Shame, embarrassment, anger… everything comes flooding back again, because there’s no running from it, right?
Oh, how I desire to turn back time and make different choices, never investigating that rustling sound in the bushes, never getting involved in any of it.
I don’t want that part of my life. I want the part where I can get closer to Alex.
But I can’t.
I can’t.
I don’t deserve it.
???
After two days I am discharged from the hospital and my parents take me home to recover, making sure Jordan stays with me at all times while they are at work.
By the second day Alex shows up as well, his dad dropping him off, and as it turns out they live about ten minutes away from us. My dad offers to have Jordan drive Alex back, an arrangement Prosecutor Strada readily accepts.
When Alex steps into my room I feel a sudden wave of stress for no real reason, because my room is honestly pretty amazing, one of the biggest in the house, with enough space to give all my instruments a proper place, my keyboard, my cello, my drum set, and several guitars lining the walls. My bed is large, and on the ceiling I have a special luminescent wallpaper of a galaxy that glows beautifully when the lights are off.
Alex looks around shyly.
