Page 27 of Wrecked Rose

Daphne’s worried gaze connects with his confused one before her eyes flick over to meet mine. “Um, well, word is spreading all over social media about some kid getting beaten up after school today.”

Setting my burger down, I wipe my hands, waiting for her to continue. “I assume there’s a reason you’re addressing me instead of your boyfriend, who asked you to explain.” My jaw flexes and my stomach begins to churn. I don’t like the feel of this. A horrible thought takes root in my mind.No.

She blows out a careful breath. “Lyla texted me. She was, um, checking up on you?” She says it like a question, which is a little odd.

“Why would Lyla need to check on me?”

Micah gives her a bewildered look that matches my own.

“Um, well.” She bites down on her lip, glancing at her phone again as it vibrates on the table. “Hang on.” She scans over what I assume is another text from Lyla.

“I guess a few people are already showing up for the party tonight, and they’re saying they heard the guy’s face was so swollen, he was practically unrecognizable.” Her voice hitches. “Max, they said—they said he was assaulted because he’s gay.”

I slowly sit back in the booth, stunned and trying to absorb everything she said. “So there were people who thought it may have been me?” Bile rises in the back of my throat because I can’t imagine this unraveling any other way. I already know Sam is out there somewhere, hurting. After the threat earlier, I know it has to be him. “Wait. If they think it was an attack on this person because he’s gay, someone has to have seen or heard something to make that the story going around.”

Daphne lifts a shaking hand to cover her mouth as she nods. “Yeah. But of course, no one is coming forward to say they actually saw or heard anything. It’s all speculation and rumors.” Tears spring to her eyes, and Micah wraps an arm around her, pulling her close to his side.

He whispers something softly to her so low I don’t hear what he says. She nods and glances up at him, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Daph.” My voice comes out gritty, like my throat is full of sand. “I’m fine. Look at me. I’m right in front of you.”

As she puts her hands in her lap, her lips tremble. “I don’t like thinking that it could have been you. Lyla says everyone is saying whoever did it grabbed him after school and hauled him out behind the building. I guess a few people saw him after it happened, too. I don’t know. It’s terrible.”

“Does anyone know who did it?” Micah asks, his voice scary low.

“No. Word is there were a bunch of guys in ski masks fucking around after school. They hid their identities to beat him up so he wouldn’t be able to rat them out.”

His brow furrows. “Do you think the poor guy actually did something? Or do you think it was a bunch of assholes getting off on beating up someone who didn’t stand a chance against them?”

And I snap—come unhinged, whatever you want to call it. “He didn’t fuckingdoanything.”

Daphne’s mouth drops open, and Micah gazes at me warily.

“I’m about ninety-nine percent sure they attacked the freshman I’ve been trying to help. He’s not even out.” I slam my hand down on the table, rattling silverware and plates. My breath comes out ragged and harsh. “I’ve got to—” I run a hand through my hair and pull my phone from my pocket. I hurriedly open OUTspoken and look to see if there are any new messages.

There aren’t.

Max:Who did it?

I wait impatiently, steam practically blowing out of my ears. Knowing we aren’t finishing this meal right now, Daph flags down the waitress and asks for a few boxes for our food and the check. Plucking my wallet from my pocket, I pull out my debit card and toss it onto the table.

I’m about to slide out of the booth when my phone chimes.

Sam:They made me swear not to talk about it or they’d do it again.

Sam:They had masks on. But I know at least one of them, I think.

Sam:And he knows I know. I could see it in his eyes.

Sam:Probably worse that I know, if you ask me.

How do I even respond? I try to calm my emotions so I can think logically. Once I think I have a handle on myself, I reply. The server comes by with to-go boxes. Daph hands her the card after glancing at the check, and the poor woman hurries away to take care of it without a word, obviously sensing the tension at the table.

Max:How are they going to know you told me if I don’t say anything?

Sam:Seriously, man. Don’t get involved.

Max:Fuck that.

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