Thirty-three
I’m in jail for almost the whole night before an officer unlocks the cell door and tells me I’ve made bail.
I thought I wouldn’t be allowed to, started to make peace with that fact, but it looks like my father’s abundance of wealth has finally worked in my favor.
I’m led back out to the front desk, where he’s waiting for me, arms crossed over his chest. Over the years, I’ve developed a system for figuring out exactly how pissed he is. Narrowed eyes means a little bit pissed. Clenched jaw means I’ve really fucked up. But, flared nostrils and red face means that I’m in serious danger and better run. Right now, he’s the latter. He shakes his head and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him. Sighing, I grab my personal effects from the counter and follow him.
“You’re not even gonna talk to me?” I call across the parking lot.
“Just get in the car, Asher,” he responds, tone clipped.
The journey home is silent and when we enter the house, I realize it’s been magically cleaned. There isn’t a single trace of the party I had here the other night. It’s completely spotless.
“I had a company come in,” he says, noticing my confusion. “I’m not sure which one was a nicer surprise to come home to. Knowing that my son was in jail or finding my house completely trashed. Thanks for that, by the way.”
Normally, I’d apologize, not wanting to risk his wrath. But right now, I’m too fucking drained to even attempt to fake it. “I had bigger things to worry about.”
“I can see that.”
He drops his keys on the table and pulls off his jacket, before moving onto his cuff links. The whole time, I just stand there. Waiting for him to say something. To chew me out for getting arrested, trying to tarnish his reputation. But, nothing ever comes. He yanks his tie from around his neck and tosses it onto the staircase, then walks away, in the direction of his office. I trail after him, my annoyance building.
“Seriously? You’re not gonna say anything?”
Not a word.
When I make it to his office, he’s already pouring a hefty glass of scotch. He takes a sip, a contented sigh leaving his mouth as he tips his head back and stares up at the ceiling. I scoff and collapse into an armchair.
“Wow,” I mutter. “The silent treatment. That’s just great.”
This time, I must have struck a nerve. He gulps down the rest of his drink and places the glass back on the counter with a heavy smack.
“What do you want me to say, Asher?” he snaps, glaring at me. “Do you want me to congratulate you for your stupidity? For going against every single thing I’ve been telling you and ending up in an even bigger mess than before?”
I jump to my feet. “I didn’t know this was gonna happen!”
“Didn’t you? Because I distinctly remember telling you that this boy was trouble. No good. And now look where we are.” He curses and turns away. “Your entire future is in jeopardy. All because you let him sink his hooks into you, get you all confused. Make you want things and do things you never normally would. Awful things.”
I narrow my eyes at him, zeroing in on the way his eyes fill with regret, the way his bottom lip shakes. Realization hits, making me feel sick to my stomach. “You really think I did it, don’t you?” I whisper, voice hoarse. “You think I hurt Oakley.”
He doesn’t answer me for so long, that I start to think he never will.
“I don’t know what to think,” he finally says, his confession making my already shredded heart tear apart a little more. I haven’t had a real relationship with my dad in years, haven’t felt anything more than resentment toward him for as long as I can remember. And yet, the idea of him thinking I’m capable of this, of doing this to someone, makes me want to crumble. “All I know are the facts. And right now, things aren’t looking good for you. At all.”
I swipe away my tears. “It’s just one text message. That’s all they have.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not all. They have statements from dozens of witnesses, including Principal Fischer. All detailing incidents where you’ve shown aggression and the intent to cause harm to Oakley. Reports of Oakley showing up to school with obvious injuries. Add in the text message and…” He blows out a breath. “It’s a fucking shitshow.”
“Dad, listen to me. I didn’t do this. I didn’t hurt Oakley. Yes, I might have hurt him before, but never like this. Never this serious. I wouldn’t do that to him. You have to believe me.”
“Asher…”
“Isn’t there something we can do? A way to fight this?”
For the first time in my life, my father actually looks defeated. And that scares me like nothing I’ve ever seen before. “I’ve tried. The police are convinced it’s an open and shut case.”
“Well, of course they think that,” I explode, upending the coffee table and sending everything sitting atop of it hurtling across the room. “They’re the ones that are setting me up!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Chief Farrow, he’s the one that did this. He’s the one who set me up.”
My dad’s brow furrows, the cogs in his mind whirring. “Oakley’s uncle is the one that put him in hospital?”
“Yes.” I nod frantically. “He’s been abusing him for months and forcing him to keep it a secret. That night Oakley worked the dinner for us? He showed back up later on, completely messed up. His uncle did that to him. I only put the pieces together yesterday. That’s why he had me arrested and—”
“Son of a bitch,” he yells, throwing his scotch glass at the wall where it smashes into a million pieces.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s what I called him when I found out, too.”
“That goddamn asshole played me! He used me for my connections and then double-crossed me.”
I frown. “What do you mean, used you for your connections?”
He ignores my question, probably too mad to even hear me. “I can’t fucking believe this. Asher, do you have any proof of this? Any proof of what he’s been doing to Oakley?”
“Well…” I stop, try to think. My shoulders slump when nothing comes to mind. “No. But… when Oakley wakes up, he’ll be able to tell everyone the truth and—”
My dad sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What?” I croak. “What’s wrong?”
“There was a… development while you were in jail. Oakley, he’s…”
When he hesitates, it’s like my whole world comes crashing down. I stagger back a step, my vision blacking out at the edges, breath leaving me in ragged pants. “No. No, he’s not. He’s not—”
He waves his hand, eyes widening. “No, no. Not that. He’s fine and awake but, uh…”
“He’s awake? Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”
The sheer relief that flows through me is short-lived by the burning need to see Oakley, to make sure he’s okay. I spin on my heel and run out of the room, ignoring my dad’s shouts and protests. My car’s still at the hospital, so I take his keys, not even feeling bad about the tire marks I leave behind on the driveway in my haste.
The whole way there, my mind races. Oakley’s awake. He’s fine. I knew he would be, but now that I know for sure, it’s like I can finally breathe again. I can’t wait to see him, to wrap my arms around him and taste his kiss. I’m grinning already just from thinking about it.
I make it to the hospital in record time, ditch the car and book it through the reception.
Everything will be fine now. He’ll tell the cops what he knows, clear my name and then—
“What the hell are you doing here?” Chief Farrow growls, one hand on my shoulder, stopping me from entering Oakley’s room. “Was arresting you once not enough?”
I shove him off. “Don’t touch me. I’m here to see Oakley.”
I’m almost through the doorway when Sienna appears. She glances up at Chief Farrow hesitantly, then back at me. Her face twists, a mixture of sorrow and guilt. “Asher… you shouldn’t be here.”
I shake my head. “You know just as much as I do that the charges against me are absolute bullshit. Let me see him.”
“You don’t understand, he’s—”
“Let him in,” Chief Farrow says, surprising me.
I turn, frowning at him, and he just smirks back at me. The same expression he wore yesterday when he flipped my world upside down. The one that makes my gut sink with dread and my skin crawl. Still, I don’t question him. I push past Sienna and into the room. April’s there, sitting in a chair beside the bed, her eyes wet with tears.
I don’t pay her more than a second of attention, though. I can’t, not when my gaze is magnetized directly to the person next to her.
Oakley.
He’s propped up against the pillows, brows scrunched as he stares at me. Jesus, even in a hospital gown with a bandage covering half of his head, he still makes my heart skip a beat.
My breath rushes out of me and I slowly approach his side, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Oakley..” I choke out. “Fuck, baby, I missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
He keeps looking at me, watching me, not saying a word. He’s probably feeling overwhelmed, like I am. But, that’s okay. I’ll do enough talking for the both of us.
I pull him into my arms, dropping my forehead to his, not even registering how stiff he goes from my touch. “I love you,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry for not saying it before.”
For those three days I spent beside his bed, holding his hand and praying he’d make it through, I must have imagined finally getting the chance to tell him I love him a million times. And in all those made-up scenarios, he’d be happy. He’d kiss me and tell me he feels the same way.
Not once did I ever anticipate what would actually happen, the words he’d say.
I feel him swallow hard, his hands reaching up to gently push me away. I frown, lips parting in shock as I take in his confused expression.
“Who are you?” he asks.
And just like that, my whole world falls apart.