Page 106 of Corrupt

“Are you in A&E?”

Shit.

“Tricky…” My stomach did some stupid, twisty, flippy thing. Like it cared. I dragged a hand over my head as Henry stepped back, giving me the illusion of privacy. I knew better. “Yeah.”

“Why? What happened?”

“It’s not me.” I kept my voice low, tight. “And I can’t tell you.”

A beat. “But you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” A lie, but not the one he meant. “I’ve got some shit I need to handle. So you…” I peered over to Henry, then put my side to him, talking to the wall and lowering my voice. “You might not see me for a bit, yeah?”

“What? Why?”

“Listen.” Panic clawed up my spine. This was the dangerous part. The part where I stayed on too long. “Don’t come by. Don’t try to find me. Keep away.”

“Rich—”

“Fuck, baby, don’t—” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

I froze.

Closed my eyes.

I’d never said that in my life. Not once. Never even thought it. And here it was, loose in the air between us, said in a hospital corridor with blood still drying on my hands and my world caving in around me.

Or had I said it before?

If I had, it belonged to another version of us. Another place. Another time I couldn’t afford to remember. And that was dangerous. I couldn’t have that now. Not after what I’d done. After what this had cost.

“I can’t talk right now.” I opened my eyes and glanced at Henry, who was very deliberately studying a laminated evacuation map. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” I took a breath, not wanting to end it there. Not after saying that. “Just…keep your window closed. Til I say.”

“Rich—”

I ended the call.

Henry turned to face me, and I handed back the mobile. Swallowed.

“He’s my best friend.” Henry pocketed the phone in his scrubs. “He’s been there for me since the day I pissed the bed on our first day sharing a room at Harrow. He never said anything. Not a thing. He helped me clean it up and gave me his spare pyjamas.”

“I…no idea why you’re telling me this.”

“Because it’s not like I can threaten you.” A ghost of bitterness crossed his face before he gestured vaguely back to the cubicle where the man I’d pummelled to the ground waited to be seen. “Though I could get my hands on some very nasty substances.” A weak attempt at humour. It didn’t land. Then he shook his head. “But maybe I can appeal to some better nature you might have and he obviously sees in you. So please…whatever this is, whatever it means to you…please.” The word broke. “Don’t hurt him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

I said nothing.

Because that was a promise I couldn’t keep.

“You should get your hands seen to.” Henry stepped back. “I’ll assume that was… fighting off his assailants?”

He turned away before I could answer.

And as I stood there, swallowed by noise and light and everything I couldn’t outrun, one thing settled cold and clear in my chest:

Tristan had a friend whose loyalty outstripped anything in my world.

Chapter twenty-one