Chapter 25 #2
“Don’t need to.” His eyes meet mine. “I know what damage looks like.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Will leans against the wall beside me, arms crossed, eyes distant now, like he’s somewhere else entirely. “They’ll want you to cut them slack just because they’re family.”
He taps a knuckle once against the side of his skull, like he’s knocking on something hollow. “Like biology cancels out damage.” He glances at me then, his mouth curling—not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. “As if blood can’t bruise.”
I let out a slow breath and meet his eyes. “Doesn’t stop it from hurting any less,” I say quietly, my voice steadier than I feel.
He tilts his head slightly, considering my words. For a second, I think I see something shift in his eyes. It’s not shock, not sympathy, but something else.
Understanding.
“Every now and then,” he murmurs, his voice low. It’s not a question. He’s agreeing with me.
Neither of us speaks. None of us moves.
The sound of students spilling out of classrooms pulls us out of whatever momentary silence we created. His eyes move toward the noise for a moment, then back to me. Slowly, he takes a step forward.
“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” His voice is casual, and I know he’s not talking about bruises or scars.
I nod once, not trusting myself to speak. My throat is dry, and my pulse is still racing.
He watches me for a few more seconds, then turns and walks away. What song are you hiding, Will?
That question doesn’t feel so simple anymore.
***
I scan the hallway, my eyes darting from one end to the other, hoping—stupidly, hopelessly—to catch sight of Lilia or Bea. Of course, I don’t see them. That would be too easy. Luck’s never been on my side, and it sure as hell isn’t changing its mind today.
My stomach tightens when I see Sam walking toward me.
Just perfect. Of all people, it had to be her. She’s striding toward me, her eyes narrowing as she gets closer. My heart stutters, a flood of panic hitting me hard.
My first instinct is to turn and run, to find some corner to hide in until she’s gone. But I can’t. I’m too battered—physically and emotionally—to walk let alone run. My body is aching, my mind is scattered, and my heart won’t be able to take it.
“Addie, what the hell happened?” Sam’s voice is sharp, but not unkind. She’s alarmed. Her eyes move over me, narrowing as she takes in the limp, the scar, and the overall dishevelled wreck that I’ve apparently become.
Yes, I’m fully aware I look horrendous. I’ve had better days, to say the least.
“Sam, please.” The words come out fast, colder than I mean them to. “Do me a favor and leave me alone. Just this once. Listen to me.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. I can tell she wasn’t expecting that from me. Hell, I wasn’t expecting it either. I bite the inside of my cheek, regretting how sharp I sounded, but too weak to give it another thought.
She opens her mouth like she’s about to argue, but I cut her off before she can get a word in.
“Ask Naomi,” I say quickly, keeping my voice flat and distant. I don’t wait for her response. I push past her, hobbling down the hall pathetically. I hear her mutter something under her breath, but I don’t care. I just keep walking. If you can even call it walking.
This isn’t about her. I’ve got more important things to deal with—like apologizing to my teacher.
***
He’s at his desk when I walk in, flipping through a stack of papers.
His head lifts as I step inside. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me, his eyes flicking from my limp to my face.
I see the exact moment he notices the scar.
His expression doesn’t change much, but I can tell it registers.
“Good morning, Miss Ross,” Mr. Anderson says evenly, his voice polite but watchful. “Do you have a reason for being absent this morning?”
Here we go.
I take a deep breath, trying to put on my best apologetic face. Maybe add a hint of teary-eyed desperation for effect? No, that’s overkill.
“I’m really sorry,” I start, my voice rushing out too fast. “I’ll catch up on the work, I promise. Extra assignments, whatever you need. I just—”
He raises a hand, and I shut my mouth. Right. Don’t ramble.
“That you will,” he says, his eyes steady. “But first, you’ll explain why you missed my class.”
His tone is calm, not angry, which both surprises and worries me. I clear my throat, trying to steady my nerves. “I, um… I fell,” I say, glancing at the floor. “I’m clumsy. It was an accident.”
He tilts his head slightly, and I swear I see his eyes flick to the scar on my cheek. I feel it burning under his gaze, even though he doesn’t ask about it. He just nods once and looks over it.
“That explains the limp,” he says calmly. “You should be more careful.”
Careful. Right. Sure.
I nod, maybe too passionately. “Yeah. I had trouble getting here, that’s why I’m so late.” At least that part is true.
He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he leans back slightly, watching me with that quiet, unsettling patience that makes me feel slightly uncomfortable.
“In that case, you shouldn’t have come at all… if that is the case?” he says finally. His voice is still calm, but the implication is clear. It makes me panic.
I wish he’d just go along with it. Just let it go.
My heart kicks up in my chest. I nod again, blurting out, “I didn’t want to miss class. I thought I could handle it.”
I may have just salvaged that. Another half-truth. But it’s good enough.
He studies me for another long moment. I stay perfectly still, not daring to look away. My pulse pounds in my ears.
He sighs. “Very well, Miss Ross,” Anderson says quietly. “Just make sure you don’t make your injuries worse. Take care of yourself.”
That’s it. No more questions. He turns back to his papers like the conversation never happened.
I exhale a shaky breath, feeling the tension bleed out of my shoulders. I could have sworn he saw right through me the entire time, could almost taste the realisation in the air.
Whatever his reason was for not prying, I’m grateful for it.
***
I decide to text Lilia and Bea to meet me in the bathrooms.
Currently, concealer is priority number one but if I’m honest, the idea of talking to someone—really talking—sounds almost surreal. Like I dream I don’t quite deserve. But I want it anyway.
I need it.
The walk there is hell. Every few steps, I have to stop and press my hand to the wall, the pain flaring hot in my ribs and legs. Just one more corner to turn, I tell myself, almost there—
And then I hit something hard.
Someone’s chest.
Not. Again.
The impact sends a sharp jolt of pain through me, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
I stumble back, already bracing for the fall, but before I do, a hand wraps around my wrist—firm but not harsh.
It steadies me before I can crash to the floor.
I exhale a shaky breath, trying to swallow down the fresh wave of agony coursing through me.
Damn that hurt like hell.
I look up and freeze.
Kai.
Of course it’s Kai. Because the universe hasn’t finished having its fun with me today.
His pretty eyes lock onto mine, then slowly sweep downward, taking in my posture, my limp, before sweeping up again and finally—finally—stopping on the scar.
The stare is suffocating. It’s analytical, and intense.
“That wasn’t there before,” he says, and his voice is flat and matter of fact.
I tug my wrist free from his grip, trying not to make it too obvious that I’m shaken. He doesn’t stop watching me, and I feel it like a weight pressing down on my skin as his gaze lingers where the scar mars my cheek. My fingers twitch, itching to cover it, but I force them to stay at my sides.
“Accidents happen,” I say with a shrug, keeping my voice steady and trying to sound unfazed. But then I stop and think when has that ever worked out for me?
That would be never, because I am anything but nonchalant.
I expect him to move on, to say something dismissive and go about his day.
But Kai doesn’t move.
“What happened to your face?” he asks, and it’s not said in anger exactly, but it isn’t how he normally speaks either. It’s raw, and sharp, and full of something I can’t quite place.
He isn’t yelling, but the force behind the words feels louder than any scream.
For a moment, I just stare at him, and I realize I’m holding my breath.
My mind scrambles to come up with something—anything—that will make him stop asking questions.
Instead, I try to sidestep him, attempting to simply brush past this dinosaur of a man. But he grabs my arm, stopping me with a touch that’s firm but not forceful. Still, it makes my heart jump in my chest.
“And you’re limping,” he remarks almost casually. But there’s something about his voice I know not to overlook.
I stiffen, shaking off his grip. “I fell,” I snap, heat entering into my voice. It’s not entirely a lie. I did fall, just… not like that. Not in the way he probably thinks.
Kai’s eyes narrow slightly, and something flickers behind his eyes—just for a second.
Something that crackles like a spark.
And then, just as quickly, it’s gone.
He studies me in that infuriating way of his, like he’s pulling apart my words and analysing each one.
“Fell over what exactly?” he presses, staring at me like he doesn’t know what to make of me. Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of me either.
Screaming at him and just running away like an absolute fool crosses my mind. It’s a thought I end up discarding because… well—where exactly am I planning on running to like this?
I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay composed. “The stairs,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
His eyebrows lift slightly. It’s not much, but it’s enough to spark my temper. He doesn’t believe me. Of course he doesn’t.
“The stairs,” he repeats, his tone dry. His lips twitch, but it’s not a smile. “You must be incredibly graceful to manage that.”