The only problem was that it was built on an assumption that Charlie had no right to make. Charlie’s own misgivings about confessing to Kate and Reg aside, he had no idea how Leo would feel about it.And, duh, it’s not like he ever agreed to be your bloody boyfriend. Get real, loser.
Charlie tried to silence the pessimistic devil on his shoulder, but it was hard, and even without the bullshit that came with that, there was something else—something that mattered more than anything:Leo.
Leo was still so unwell, and revealing his sexuality alongside Charlie’s, to a family he still barely knew, probably wasn’t high on his list of priorities. If it was on there at all.
Charlie shook his head slowly, trying to clear it. “Please don’t tell Mum and Dad.”
“I’m not going to. You are.”
“I can’t. Not without talking to Leo first. He might not want to be with me when he comes home anyway.”
Fliss scoffed. “Bollocks. That kid’s as crazy about you as you are about him. Which is why you need to handle this properly. I’m trying to help you, Charlie. Not stuff it up for you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want everyone to be happy. Makes my life easier.”
“Nothing about this is easy.” Charlie echoed Kate’s earlier words with little conscious thought and dropped his head into his hands. Perhaps Fliss was right and hedidneed to tell Kate and Reg about him and Leo, but with Leo so poorly, and his absence a giant crater in Charlie’s soul, where the hell would he start?
Mum, Dad, I’ve got something to tell you . . .
Leo let his head loll against the car window, only half listening to Reg as he spoke about what would happen when they finally got home. It was as much as his tired brain would allow, especially after the doctor had given him a pill to“ward off any anxiety you may have about leaving the hospital.”
The pill had done little to ease the tense knot in his chest, but Leo couldn’t deny that the drowsy buzz behind his eyes felt good—soothing—and the cool glass against his aching head felt even better.
“I don’t know if you’ll be able to go back to school anytime soon,” Reg said.
“Hmm?” Leo lifted his head.
Reg smiled slightly, before his expression became characteristically grave again. “I’m talking about school, Leo. It’s important.”
School was the last thing on Leo’s mind, but he’d come to realise in recent days that listening to Reg talk about boring stuff that didn’t matter was kind of nice. Like watching a film you’d seen a hundred times over. “Did I get expelled?”
“The school hasn’t decided what to do with you yet.”
“What about the police?”
“Darren Stroud’s family decided not to press charges, but I’d imagine the police will want to talk to you anyway.” Reg’s lips pressed into a thin line. Leo sat up straighter. Until now, Reg had given little indication of his feelings on what Leo had done to Darren Stroud. Was that about to change?
A flicker of fear dampened the medication-mellowed fire in his gut, but then he remembered the many hours he’d lost to Reg’s voice over the last few days and the flicker went away. If Reg was angry, it was only because he cared.“You’re family, Leo. Whatever happens, we’ll take care of you.”
It was nothing that Reg hadn’t said from the start, and perhaps it was the medication, but somehow, Leo had come to believe him. “What are you pissed off about?” Leo asked. “Do you want them to press charges so I get what I deserve?”
“It’s not for me to decide what you deserve, but no . . . it’s not that I want you to be prosecuted. I’m more concerned with the fact that the other boy’s parents weren’t that interested in what had happened to their son. I shouldn’t tell you this, but the school had to accompany him to the hospital and the police brought him home.”
Guilt was an emotion that Leo was familiar with, though he found it hard to apply to Darren Stroud, especially when he thought of Charlie—beautiful, innocent Charlie, dancing through Heyton, off his tits on dodgy pills.
Dennis’s face flashed into Leo’s mind, stronger and clearer than even Charlie’s. Leo shuddered and closed his eyes. The doctors at the hospital had told him that the PTSD was probably in part responsible for what he’d done to Darren Stroud, but all the pills in the world couldn’t convince him that he wasn’t a fistfight away from becoming Dennis.
“Leo.” Reg’s voice was insistent. “Come on, now. If the police pursue a case, it’s unlikely that you’d serve a custodial sentence. It’s more likely that a judge would insist on you getting the treatment you’ll be having anyway.”
“Treatment?”
“Treatment, therapy, assistance. It’s all semantics, really.”
“I literally have no idea what you’re on about.”
Reg smiled properly this time. “They’re just words, son. All that matters now is getting you better, but you know that most of that will fall on you, don’t you? No one can feel things for you, which is a shame.”
