Page 39 of Discover Me
"Jesus Christ." Jamie sits back on his heels. "That's manipulative as hell. Why didn't you fight it?"
"Because it would have been a PR nightmare. The fans would have crucified me, said I was leading him on or using him. And honestly?" I set the bills down. "Kellan is actually very sweet. Not at all like his public persona. Being with him, even if it's fake, it's not terrible. It's actually kind of nice."
Jamie laughs, the sound surprised and genuine. "You don't call anyone sweet. Like, ever. So I'm going to take your word forit. But if he hurts you, if this arrangement goes south and you need out, call me and I'll be right there. Okay?"
"Okay." I smile despite everything. "Thanks."
"Do you need anything? Want me to stay while you finish packing?"
I shake my head. "No, I'm almost done. And honestly, it's nice to have a little vacation from all of this. I definitely won't miss running into Derek and Colt around town. How are they still out on bail anyway? I don't understand how that's legal given what they did."
Jamie's expression turns grim. "That's actually why I'm here rather than meeting you at the diner like we planned. The police are on their way. They wanted to talk to you about the case."
"What?" Dread pools in my stomach. "Why? What happened?"
As if on cue, there's another knock at the door. This time I recognize the rhythm, the official double-rap that law enforcement uses. I open it to find Officer Morrison and Officer Pinkney standing on my porch, their expressions carefully neutral.
Morrison gives me a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Micah. We're glad you're healing up. You look better than the last time we saw you."
"What's going on?" I don't invite them in, don't want to pretend this is a social call.
Pinkney shifts uncomfortably, not meeting my eyes. Morrison clears his throat and pulls out a small notebook. "We have all the eyewitness accounts now, along with your statement and Derek and Colt's version of events. Based on what we've put together, it seems like it was a dangerous but unfortunate accident."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"They didn't seem to know how unsteady the ladder was," Morrison continues, his tone apologetic but firm. "Looking at the evidence, it appears they were just messing around,not understanding the severity of the situation. We'll be charging them with fleeing the scene and potentially reckless endangerment, but the assault charges won't stick."
Anger floods through me, hot and righteous. "What the actual fuck. You said they were charged with something similar after my accident. With assaulting someone at a bar that same night. And you know I didn't just fall. They did that shit on purpose. I told you they were shaking the ladder even after I asked them to stop."
Pinkney finally looks at me. "No one else saw the actual moment the ladder fell. The eyewitnesses only saw the aftermath. Without corroborating evidence that they intentionally caused you to fall with malicious intent, we can't prove assault. It's your word against theirs."
"Seriously?" I look between them, disbelief and fury warring in my chest. "Did someone pay you off or whatever? This makes no fucking sense. There were dozens of people working on that site. Someone must have seen them shaking the ladder."
Morrison's expression hardens. "We interviewed everyone who was there. Most people were inside the building or on the other side of the site. The ones who saw anything only saw you already falling or on the ground. That's not enough for an assault conviction."
Everyone looks surprised at my outburst, probably because I'm usually more mild-mannered, more controlled. But right now I'm too angry to care about being polite or reasonable.
"The chief is closing the case," Morrison says, and something in his tone suggests he's not happy about it either. "But we came here to see if you wanted to file a protection order or something like that. Keep Derek and Colt away from you legally."
I grimace, thinking about how effective that would be. A piece of paper telling violent Alphas to stay away from me. Sure, that'llwork. "No. I'm just going to leave town for a while because you guys clearly can't do your fucking jobs."
Jamie steps forward, his expression dark. "I should have known something was wrong when you were dragging your feet on this case. Taking weeks to interview witnesses, losing evidence, suddenly deciding it was all just an unfortunate accident."
Pinkney opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off. "Save it. Maybe I'll gather up some money and sue their asses in civil court. Maybe you'll see that case a bit differently when a judge sees the permanent damage they did to my body." I gesture to my cast, to my chest where the scar runs hidden under my shirt. "I might never be able to do construction again, not like I used to. But sure, just an unfortunate accident. Keep telling yourself that."
I grab my duffle bag from where it sits by the door, shouldering it with my good arm. The weight pulls at my healing ribs but I ignore the pain. I stalk outside, barely registering Morrison and Pinkney's attempts to apologize or explain further.
Jamie follows me to my truck, his expression concerned. "Hey. Text me when you get there and let me know you're alright. I don't like you driving when you're this angry."
"I'll be okay. I promise." I throw my bag in the truck bed, maybe with more force than necessary.
Jamie pulls me into a careful hug, mindful of my injuries. "I know. You always are. But I worry anyway because that's what friends do."
Kellan
I shoulder the apartment door shut behind me and the silence slams down on me. Rehearsal bled into overtime with a new set list, a new lighting rig, new everything, and every second of it my skin crawled two sizes too tight.
The first thing I notice is that Micah’s scent is gone from the hallway. No whiskey warmth curls around the corners. No vanilla tucks into the couch cushions. I knew his scent would disappear a little when he went home to grab some clothes butfuck, I thought he would have been home by now. He hasn’t even sent a text.
