Chapter 28 Aftermath
The room is quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, shadows pooling in the corners. The silence between us is warm and full. Like something sacred has settled there and neither of us wants to disturb it.
Tex is behind me, his chest pressing against my back, one arm wrapped securely around my waist like he has no intention of letting go. His other hand traces slow, lazy patterns along my hip — shapes that don’t mean anything but somehow say everything.
I watch his fingers glide gently along my skin, dipping under the edge of the sheet and back out again, dragging warmth in their wake. Each stroke makes me shiver, not from cold but from how present he is. From how gentle he can be, when the world has only ever known him as dangerous.
His thumb brushes a spot just above my hipbone and lingers there. “Still with me?” he asks, his voice low and raw and sleepy.
I nod, the corner of my mouth tilting up. “Still here.”
“You didn’t flinch that time.”
“I know.”
He presses a kiss to the curve of my shoulder. “You're incredible.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So, I just reach for his hand and lace our fingers together, grounding myself in the moment. His hand is bigger, rougher — but it fits with mine like we are two pieces that have been battered by life in just the right way to match.
“You’re not what I expected,” I murmur.
“Good or bad?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
He laughs, a soft, hoarse sound that rumbles against my spine. “Fair.”
We lie there, tangled in each other, and I feel safer and more seen than I have in a long time. There is no pressure in his touch, no expectations. Just quiet. Steady. Real.
And I find myself wishing time would freeze right here.
Just for a little while.
I shift onto my back so I can see him better, and he glances down at me. His expression is open in a way I rarely see — stripped of his usual hard edges. It makes my chest ache.
“When I was a kid,” I say slowly, “I used to lie awake and pretend I was someone else. Someone stronger. Someone who didn’t flinch every time the door opened.”
His hand tightens around mine.
“I don’t think I ever stopped pretending,” I admit. “But lately… I don’t know. It feels like I’m finally starting to become that girl.”
Tex stares at me for a long moment, and something flickers in his eyes. Pride? Pain? I can’t tell.
“You are,” he says softly. “You already are.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy with things we aren’t quite ready to say. Then he rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, his gaze pinned to mine.
“You make me feel like I could actually have something good,” he says, almost like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud.
I swallow hard. “You deserve something good.”
I trace my fingers lightly over the back of his hand where it rests on my stomach. “What happened to Ellie?” I whisper.
He stills. For a moment, I’m not sure he’ll answer.
“We were stuck in this foster house. Adults who didn’t give a shit about the kids they were fostering, just the check that came with them. I used to tell her bedtime stories about breaking out, about stealing enough to buy a new life. She believed me.”
His voice cracks, just slightly. “One night, there was a fight. Local gang came to collect what they were owed. Guns. Screaming. I told her to hide in the crawlspace.” He swallows. “But a stray bullet hit her, and by the time I went to get her, she was gone.”
Everything in me clenches.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my chest aching for this man.
“Don’t be.”
“What was she like?”
His voice comes low and rough against the shell of my ear. “She had this gap in her front teeth, which she was really self-conscious about. I used to tell her it made her look fierce.”
There is a smile in his voice, but it’s cracked.
“She wanted to be a dancer,” he continues. “Used to tie pillowcases or sheets around her waist like tutus. Said she’d be on a stage one day, spinning so fast the world would disappear.”
I can feel the ache in his chest like it’s my own.
“My mom died after Ellie was born. That’s when my dad, well, Ellie’s dad, started drinking. Eventually, he lost his job, then us. But no matter what happened, I made sure Ellie and I stayed together.”
He looks past my shoulder, like he’s letting the memories play before he speaks.
“She used to collect rocks,” he says, his voice low.
“Not pretty ones, not crystals or polished stones. Just the ones she found on sidewalks or playgrounds. She said they were ‘rescued.’” A short breath of a laugh leaves him.
“I once found one in my shoe before a fight. She snuck it in there. Said it was her ‘lucky pebble.’ In fact…” He leans over and fishes something out of his pants.
He wraps his arms around me, holding up a palm-sized grey rock with white speckles.
“I still carry it around with me. It truly is a lucky pebble. It’s kept me alive all these years. ”
The fondness in his eyes makes my eyes sting.
“She sounds like she was clever,” I murmur, smiling into my pillow.
“She was. Way too clever. She had this habit of making up words when she didn’t know the real ones. Like when she couldn’t remember the word for violin, she called it a ‘shoulder guitar.’ And everyone just… went with it.”
I can hear the fondness in his voice now, more than the pain. Like the fog of loss has briefly lifted, letting the sun through.
“She was obsessed with pancakes,” he continues.
“Wouldn’t eat anything else if she could help it.
Once told me she wanted to marry a stack of them.
” He paused. “And she had this laugh. God, it was like… It just filled up a room. This big, snorting, bubbling thing that made everyone around her start laughing too, even if they didn’t know why. ”
My throat tightens. “She sounds amazing.”
“She was,” he says, his voice far away. “She used to draw with sidewalk chalk all over the concrete outside our building. Said she was decorating the world. And when it rained, she’d cry like she was losing her friends. But the next day, she’d start over. Never stopped drawing.”
I can see her in my mind now — barefoot on sun-warmed pavement, hair wild, coloring her little world bright.
“Thank you for telling me about her,” I whisper, reaching back to run my fingers along his arm.
His lips brush my shoulder. “She would’ve liked you,” he says again, quiet and certain. “You would’ve made her feel safe.”
My chest aches, but it is a good ache. A full one.
“Stay,” I say, breathless. “Just for tonight.”
He nods and pulls me against him, skin against skin, wrapping around me like armor. And for once, I sleep without dreaming.
The next morning, I wake up to a message on my tablet that I need to be at Dean Everett’s office at ten. My stomach clenches. No explanation. Just that.
Tex stirs behind me, his arm tightening briefly before he blinks awake. “What’s wrong?”
I sit up, already reaching for my clothes. “The school messaged. Said I need to be at Dean Everett’s office at ten. Didn’t say why.”
Tex sits up too, frowning, his hair a sleep-rumpled mess. “I’ll get changed. I’ll meet you down there.”
I pause at the edge of the bed, turning to look at him. He reaches for me, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. It’s soft, but there is something fierce beneath it—something protective.
“Whatever it is,” he says, brushing his thumb along my jaw, “we’ll handle it.”
I nod, letting his steadiness anchor me. He kisses my forehead before my dorm door shuts behind him. Then I pull on leggings, a loose black tee, and boots, tug my hair into a quick ponytail, and slip into the hall. The air is brisk and quiet.
By the time I reach the corridor outside Dean Everett’s office, I slow to a stop. All four of them are already there.
Tex leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest, wearing a dark long-sleeved shirt he must’ve thrown on.
Noah stands beside him, scrolling absently through his tablet like he isn’t wound tight beneath the surface.
Jace paces in a slow, deliberate line, hands in his pockets and jaw tight.
And Luca—Luca looks like he just rolled out of bed and dared anyone to say something about it, his usual lazy grin nowhere in sight. A bruise blooms across his jaw.
Guilt floods my chest. They all look up when they hear my boots on the floor.
Jace is the first to speak. “Took you long enough.”
Tex pushes off the wall. “It’s not even ten yet. Chill.”
Jace continues to glare at me. I give it to him right back.
“What are you even doing here?” I cross my arms over my chest.
Jace scoffs. “I go where I want.”
“Okay,” I mock, rolling my eyes.
The office door opens then, as if summoned by the weight of our silence. The assistant nods. “You can come in now.”
They aren’t walking ahead of me like they usually do. They walk with me. Whatever is about to happen… they are choosing to stand beside me.
Fluorescent lights hum overhead, bouncing off the polished wood of Dean Everett’s desk and the rows of bookshelves lining the walls. It smells faintly of coffee and old paper. I barely register any of it—because all I see is him.
River sits in one of the chairs across from the desk, a scowl etched deep into his face. One eye is swollen nearly shut, the skin around it darkening to an angry bruise. His lip is split, the dried blood flaking. His hair is messy like he couldn’t be bothered. He looks like hell.
And when he sees me, his jaw clenches tighter.
“Sit,” Dean Everett says without looking up from the tablet in his hands.
We do. I end up in the middle, flanked by Tex and Noah, while Luca drops into the chair beside the window like he couldn’t care less. He doesn’t even glance at River. But his fists are still curled.
Everett finally looks up.
His gaze scans the room, heavy with authority.
“I want to be very clear. Fighting is grounds for suspension—potential expulsion if deemed serious enough. You are not above the rules just because your parents are generous donors or you hold academic privilege. This school maintains its standards for everyone.”
No one speaks.
Everett sets his tablet down. “I’ve reviewed the footage. It shows Mr. Silvain and Mr. Hale engaging in a physical altercation at the Halloween dance. But I also know it started long before the first punch was thrown.”
His eyes land on me. I sit a little straighter.
“I understand this incident had something to do with you, Miss Ashthorne. That makes you a witness.” He pauses. “So now, I’d like to hear your version. What happened last night?”
My palms are damp. I lace my fingers together and try to steady my voice.
“I’d just come back inside from the terrace,” I say slowly. “River came up and asked me to dance.” I swallow.
Out of the corner of my eye, I feel Tex tense.
“The music was… loud. People were dancing close.” I continue. “He pulled me against him. It was more than I was comfortable with, and I tried to step back. But he didn’t let go.”
River scoffs.
“Mr. Hale,” Dean Everett warns, not even looking at him.
My voice is quieter now. “He was holding my hips. Grinding against me. I told him to stop, but he didn’t. That’s when Luca stepped in.”
Dean Everett turns to Luca. “Is that true?”
Luca leans back, arms folded. “Yeah. I saw she wasn’t okay, so I got in the middle. Told him to back off.”
“And then you hit him?”
Luca’s mouth twists. “No. He shoved me first.”
Dean Everett looks at River again. “Is that accurate? Don’t forget I have footage.”
River glares at me. Then at Luca. Then down at the floor. His jaw moves like he wants to spit out something vile—but instead, he mutters, “Yeah.”
Dean Everett leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Miss Ashthorne, thank you for your honesty. I understand this wasn’t easy to talk about. Given the context, it’s clear this was a defensive escalation rather than an unprovoked fight.”
His gaze shifts back to River. “Mr. Hale, you are suspended for one week, effective immediately. Any further incidents, and you’ll be removed from Blackmoore entirely.”
River’s fists clench on his knees. But he doesn’t argue.
Everett nods to the rest of us. “You’re all dismissed.”
We stand slowly. River doesn’t move. Just before we step out of the room, Everett calls, “Miss Ashthorne?”
I turn back.
“I appreciate how you handled this. You showed maturity. That matters here.”
I nod, too numb to answer. Then I walk out, the boys falling into step around me.