Page 28 of Wrecked Rose

Max:I want to come see you.

Max:Can I?

There’s no response for several minutes while I go steadily more and more out of my mind. I hope I haven’t overstepped. I know we’ve never spoken in person before but if there was ever a time for it, this would be it.

Sam:Okay. Can you meet me at the park near the academy with that huge swing set? Do you know which one I’m talking about?

Sam:I’ve been here since I left school.

Max:I do. See you in ten?

Sam:Yeah.

I lurch out of the seat. “Can you hang onto my card when she comes back with it? I have to go.”

Daph looks up at me, her eyes pleading. “Please let us know if we can help somehow? I know it’s a sensitive situation. But we’re here if you need us.”

Micah holds out his fist, and I don’t hesitate to give him a bump. I know that’s his way of saying he’s with me, too.

“I will. Thanks.”

Chapter 19

Max

Rolling up to the meeting place Sam had requested, I turn off the road and pull my X5 into one of the five spaces allotted for people visiting the park. There are no other cars here, so I’m a little concerned at first that Sam isn’t going to show until I remember he’s only a freshman. He doesn’t even fucking drive yet and has gotten his ass kicked for liking something outside of the norm—for being different. It’s the worst feeling to have someone insist that the person you are is somehow built wrong. An abomination. An atrocity. Something disgustingly sinful to be loathed and detested.

The real truth is that people who believe they are somehow superior, for whatever reason, are the ones who need their heads examined.

I take a cursory glance around the place and spot someone in the shadows over near a tree next to the swing set that Sam had referenced. After taking a few deep breaths, I feel ready to tackle this. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m not going to like what I’m about to see, and I’m worried it will show all over my face.

I wish I’d told him to meet me at my car, but there’s a good reason he’s not sitting out in the open. Either he’s so banged up he doesn’t want to be seen or he’s terrified someone will see us and get the wrong idea. Or both.

Setting all my nerves and frustration aside, I head in his direction. I will do this kid the respect of looking him in the eye, of seeing what they did to him firsthand. I won’t shy away from it.

As I approach, I softly call out to him, “Sam? Is that you?”

He pushes away from the tree, taking a few steps forward. When the brightness from the streetlights at the road hits his swollen, bluish-purple face, I have to stop the all-out gasp that threatens to burst from my lips. He has a pair of black eyes and his lower lip is split, as is his left cheekbone. A trickle of blood has dripped out of his hairline and dried.

“Fuck.” I blow out a hard breath. “You haven’t been home yet?” There’s blood crusted at the corner of his mouth, too. The all-over swelling looks more painful than anything I’ve ever seen before. I wince inwardly.Awful. This. Is. Awful.

“Nope. I told my parents I was meeting a friend after school to study.” He hesitates a second before continuing. “It’s pretty bad, huh?” He gives me a small, sad smile, then grimaces, touching his fingers to his lip. I imagine it hurts like a bitch.

“Bad enough that you probably need medical attention, and I need to know if you want to report the assault. Because that’s what this is, Sam, plain and simple. And a hate crime on top of it.”

I’m torn between wanting to take care of Sam and going out to find the fuckers who preyed on him.

He shakes his head, his expression wild and scared. “I don’t want to. I-I can’t. I—”

Fuck.I nod, holding up my hands. Because I get it. I totally do. But damn, these assholes should pay for this somehow. “Okay. Can I at least take you back to my house and help you get cleaned up?”

He swallows, his eyes darting around the park and surrounding area.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not. I’m afraid ofthem.”

I wince. “I get that. Come on. Let me help you out, and then I’ll take you home.”

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