Chapter 25
Alex
Isabella and I eat our breakfast tacos in awkward silence. She invited me for breakfast at a popular restaurant in town, but now that we’re here, she’s hardly said anything.
She drinks from her glass of cold water and clears her throat. “I’m sorry I’ve been quiet in class this past week…and during lunch…” she says. “I just didn’t know what to say. What happened to you…”
She shakes her head as the words trail off.
So she knows what happened. Liam. Alonzo. Me. She probably saw everything, and so did Abby and Gianna. That explains it.
“What happened to me had nothing to do with you or the girls,” I say. “You girls couldn’t know Liam was going to…It’s not your fault.”
This past week has been an emotional rollercoaster. On the one hand, things were progressing smoothly with Alonzo. I have been to his cabin two more times since Monday. The sex is incredible, and I think he’ll begin to trust me soon.
But at school, things were going very differently. As soon as classes started on Monday, the entire school was teeming with gossip and rumors of what happened at last Friday’s party.
As the week progressed, the gossip simmered down until it stopped altogether. I guess most students thought the rumors were lies since the event never made the news, and no professor was punished for beating up a student.
The event .
I shudder every time I think about what would have happened if Alonzo hadn’t been there that night.
Isabella and the girls never brought it up. I assumed they felt guilty for introducing me to Liam. Our lunch conversations had become awkward, like they were trying to navigate around the elephant in the room.
As the week came to an end, our conversations became a little less awkward. Then, yesterday Isabella opened up and asked me to meet her this weekend. I told her I would be busy later in the day but could meet her early in the morning.
“It’s not just the guilt,” Isabella says. For the first time, her large, bubbly eyes look deflated and joyless. She surveys the table as if the words she is looking for are scattered on the table, and all she has to do is unscramble them to read the message. “Something similar happened to me when I was younger.”
A cool chill overtakes my body.
Isabella is eighteen. If something similar happened to her, it would have been when she was underage.
My lips feel dry. I don’t know what to say.
“When I learned what happened to you, it reminded me of what happened to me,” she says, poking at her food. “I haven’t thought about that for a long time.”
Her experience could have been a lot worse than what happened to me. Maybe there wasn’t an Alonzo to save her. I don’t want to probe deeper if she doesn’t want to. I don’t want to make her feel worse by bringing up bad memories. She can open up when she’s ready.
“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you,” I say, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “You’re not alone. We have each other.”
“Thank you,” she smiles, finally looking up at me. A tear runs down her face, and she wipes it away with her other hand. “I’ve never told this to anybody before. I never thought I would.”
“Well, I’m here for whenever you’re ready,” I say.
She smiles.
Tears flow from her eyes. Something in her eyes tells me they’re not tears of sadness but relief.
I get up, walk around the table, and give her a big hug. We have only been friends for a few weeks, so I wasn’t sure how Isabella would react, but she immediately hugs me back.
“Thank you,” she says, hugging me tightly.
Some of the folks at the other tables are staring at us, but I don’t care. I close my eyes and hug her tighter.
???
After breakfast, we hop into my car and drive to her apartment. She lives in the annexed student dorms by the university stadium, not far from the restaurant where we just ate.
“Sorry that I had to cut our day short,” I say. “I would have loved to spend more time together.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “I know you have plans.”
She says it matter-of-factly, as if she knows what I’m going to do. Or at least, she thinks she knows what I’m about to do.
“It’s my mom,” I say. For some reason, I feel like I have to explain myself. I don’t want her to think I’m ditching her for a dumb or selfish reason. “I take care of her on weekends. That’s why I asked you to meet me so early today. I’m buying and preparing her food today and dropping it off at her place tomorrow.”
She looks at me with a confused face.
“She’s sick,” I say. “So I take care of her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I thought you were…never mind. Does she live in town?”
“She lives in Harling,” I say. “That’s where I grew up. It’s a small town southeast of here.”
“I know where it is,” she says. “I used to have an uncle who lived near Harling, in Gonzalez. We used to visit him a few times a year before he moved out of state.”
As we turn into her street, she offers to help me prep Mom’s food.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say. “I’ve been doing it since sophomore year. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“I don’t mind,” she says, looking down at her hands. She fidgets with her nails. “I just don’t feel like being alone right now.”
Whatever happened to her when she was younger is now occupying her mind.
“Well, in that case, I’ll gladly take you up on your offer,” I say. “If we finish early, we can go watch a movie.”
Her face brightens up. “That sounds fun!”
We spend the rest of the morning buying groceries and prepping my mom’s food. By early afternoon, we finish everything that would have usually taken me a few more hours.
After we set everything aside for tomorrow, we drive downtown to watch a movie at the only movie theater in town. It’s Saturday afternoon, so the place is packed.
“Fingers crossed we can find a parking spot,” I say, turning into a parking aisle. As I look for an empty spot, a loud rumble causes my head to turn to the street. Two reapers on motorcycles pull into the parking lot behind us.
Are they following me?
A beaten down truck followed me from my mom’s place once, but I never saw it again, nor did I figure out who it was. I had been so terrified of the truck that it didn’t occur to me to write down the license plate.
I turn into a different parking aisle, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. The two reapers turn into the aisle behind us. Their bikes roar as they split up and surround my car on either side.
“Alex? What’s going on?” Isabella asks, turning to look at me. “Do you know them?”
I do.
They are Jacob’s enforcers. I have never spoken to them because they rarely visit The Den. When they do, they usually only speak with Jacob and Ben.
They are nothing like the regulars at The Den. These men are dangerous.
I lower my window and look at the guy riding next to my window. He stares me down even though his eyes are shielded by dark, reflective sunglasses. I only see my own terrified expression.
“C-can I help you?” I ask.
He rides next to my car without saying a word.
A moment later, he looks up at his friend who rides by Isabella’s window, and makes a hand signal. Their bikes roar loudly again as they overtake my car and speed out of the parking lot and into the street.
“What the heck was that?” Isabella asks.
A message.
Jacob wants me to know he’s watching me, even if I’m no longer under his thumb at The Den.