Page 17 of Real

I lift the sandwich to my nose. The scent of cheese and warm butter envelops me. Cheese has this salty, tangy smoothness to it that I could smell for hours. Especially the stuff Dorian brought home on a cheat days and asked me to sprinkle over hot noodles for him.

When I open my eyes, H is staring at me. Not the way the lawyers did last night or even the way Candlewick does when he’s trying to understand me. This is different. There’s a tender warmth in his gaze.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out another package. “These are the chicken tenders.”

The salt is a little stronger on the chicken, and there’s a sweetness that accompanies the fried meat. H hands me the hamburger next, and that’s a whole combo of scents. There are sliced pickles, a tomato, and ketchup. It’s a symphony of sorts. I take my time with each item, and H doesn’t ask me to rush.

After I smell all the warm things, he casually hands me a cold cup with white ice cream inside. Like ice cream is the most common thing in the world.

I’ve only had ice cream twice in my life. It was almost impossible for Candlewick to bring me anything frozen. The things he snuck in for me had to survive in his overnight bag until Dorian left the next morning.

The first time was when Dorian still thought I could be real. The second time was three months ago. Candlewick showed up out of nowhere while Dorian was on vacation. He had a black eye and a wry smile on his face. “I got sent home early. I was feeling sorry for myself, but then I remembered you and I could party without any interruptions from certain alphas.”

That night we had ice cream and danced in the kitchen. He stayed with me for two full days before Dorian returned. After that he didn’t come back for three weeks. I thought he had left me forever. I didn’t blame him. I knew how mean Dorian could be.

When he returned, things were different. We didn’t cuddle in the mornings anymore. He was busy studying the security system and opening the hoods on Dorian’s extra cars. He asked me lots of questions about what I remembered before I met Dorian and how my body worked.

He also ended up with a lot of bruises. He told me to wear earplugs at night while I was in my closet, but I could still hear the crash of Dorian’s fists.

Sometimes he had more than bruises. A split lip. A limp. I begged him to stop coming, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Then one morning there was a big welt on his right cheek in the shape of Dorian’s favorite ring.

I have marks on my chest that are shaped like that ring too.

Candlewick ran around the house, grabbing things like the scent dampener in my closet and a collection of food from the fridge. He spent a long time in the garage. So long, I wondered if he had called for an Uber and wouldn’t return. That’s how Dorian preferred for him to leave. He was never allowed to bring his own car.

When he came back, he handed me one of Dorian’s hoodies and told me to put it on. I shook my head. “Dorian doesn’t want me to wear clothes.”

Candlewick clenched his jaw. “We’re leaving, Bud. Dorian’s rules don’t apply anymore.”

I stare down at the ice cream H gave me and wonder if I could have stopped him. Maybe if I had told him I was fine, he would still be free instead of stuck in jail. Sure, I’m here with H wearing new clothes and smelling delicious food, but at what price?

Guilt churns in my stomach. I got so caught up in my shopping trip with H, I forgot all about Candlewick.

“Be honest with me. What are the chances we’ll win?” I ask H. I know his lawyers are good, but it doesn’t matter how good they are if the case is hopeless.

“What do you mean?”

“What are the chances we’ll win in court and Candlewick will be set free?”

H doesn’t say anything at first, but his face tenses, which is a type of answer.

“There is a chance,” he says. “I’ll do everything I can—”

“Tell Dorian I’ll go back to him if he’ll let Candlewick go.”

I know what it feels like to be trapped. Candlewick deserves better than that.

H places his hand on my knee. “I really think you need to give our lawyers a chance to prove you’re human. You get to meet the lawyer in charge of your case tomorrow morning. Will you talk with her before you make your decision?”

I try to memorize the pretty colors in his eyes for later when memories are all I have left of the big, beautiful world. What difference will a few more hours make in the long run? My lawyer would be the person making Dorian the offer anyway, right?

“Okay.”

I bring the milkshake to my lips and suck in the sweet, cold liquid. When I go back to Dorian, I’ll be going alone. Candlewick will never come to the house again. There will be no one to talk to. No one to touch me. No one to bring me little gifts to help me pass the time.

Today is probably the last time anyone will be kind to me.

I have to savor it.

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