Page 31 of Wrecked Rose

“You told me you didn’t see him in study hall, though.” There are a huge number of students in that class last period. I should know—a good portion of my friends are in there while I’m working in guidance. I wonder if anyone saw anything. My guess is no since nobody mentioned it.

“I didn’t realize who it was at the time. But”—he swallows hard before finishing—“I think I recognized at least one voice. And I’m fairly certain all three of them are big-shot jock assholes.”

Chapter 21

Max

Sam wouldn’t tell me who he thought it was. I don’t know if he’s not comfortable enough with me yet or if he’s too damn embarrassed to be more specific. Maybe he’s unsure of their identity and doesn’t want to wrongly accuse anyone. Whatever the reason, he’d kept his lips sealed beyond the fact that he thinks they’re varsity baseball players.

Interestingly enough, the attack had pretty much gone exactly as Lyla and Daphne had heard—which means someone had seen the guys in masks, at least one witness watched them drag poor Sam behind the building, and someone had seen him after the assault occurred. And yet, no one had gotten involved. No one had helped him.

I don’t understand the world we live in. I can’t comprehend how a person sees something like that happening to another human being and, at the very least, doesn’t report it. I don’t understand this town, this school. It makes me sick that this happened to Sam. They all make me sick. These people hide behind an accepting, welcoming exterior, and inside, they’re nothing but ugly.

After parking in his driveway, we both get out of the car. I hate to leave him to do this on his own, but I don’t think my presence would make it any easier on him. I clear my throat and look down at my feet to think for a second. Finally, I look up to see him anxiously staring at his house. “Hey. I meant what I said earlier. You’re welcome in my home anytime. My parents have always supported me—every part of me. So… if you need a safe place to land, know that you can crash there anytime you need.”

“Thanks.” He presses his lips together. “You’re really lucky. That your parents are like that, I mean. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know it.”

He nods. “Okay.” Blowing out a harsh breath, he takes a few steps away from me. “I guess I should get this over with.”

“Call me or message me if you need to.”

He nods again. “Thanks.”

Watching his form as he trudges up the walk to his home, I feel for him. His head is down, eyes focused on the pavement, body held rigid. He’s not looking forward to what’s to come. We’d talked a little bit about it, but he still has no idea what he’s going to tell his parents. Hell, I feel for his parents, too, even though I know they’ve been reluctant to listen to or try to understand their own son. But I’m positive they aren’t expecting their kid to come home pummeled and bruised up like that. Their reaction to this will set the stage for how his family handles everything in the years to come. Because this isn’t going away. Their son is gay. Nothing they say or do will change that. But if they pull their heads out of their asses, they could be a support to him. I grit my teeth as he closes the door behind him. I sincerely hope he’ll be okay.

My energy shifts as I pull away from the curb. I want to find out who did this. Look them in the eye. Maybe punch them a few times or ten.Fuck.And that’s when I make the decision to go to the motherfucking party—to see if I can figure out who the assholes are.

I park a good way down the Danbrooks’ driveway. The party is already cranking, loud music blasting from the speakers outside in the backyard. I’d wager there are probably a bunch of people out at the firepit. I don’t know that anyone is crazy enough to get in the pool, even if it is heated. It’s too damn cold. The hot tub?Maybe.

I still can’t fucking believe they are members of the baseball team.

Griff’s team.

I work my jaw around, trying to calm myself before I go in there. Butfuck. I’m pissed. Images of Sam’s banged up face float around in my vision, prodding me along until I’m inside, and my eyes scan left to right, taking inventory of each person there.

My lips are clamped shut, and I’m breathing hard through my nose, getting more and more wound up as I go. So much for calming myself. I’m raging like a bull about to take down a matador. My eyes flick around angrily as I enter the kitchen area where I find Daphne and Micah, along with Beau, Lyla, Xander, Scarlett, and a bunch of randoms looking for more booze.

“Max?” Daph frowns, her eyes widening. “What are you doing here? You said you weren’t coming.”

“I’m—” I prop my hands on my hips, surveying and cataloging each person as they move through the room.

Scarlett’s already pale face pales further. “What’s wrong?”

When I don’t answer immediately, Xander cocks his head to the side just as Micah growls. “Is it true? What happened to that freshman?”

I give a swift nod, then focus on Beau and Lyla. “Where’s Griff?” I may not know every baseball player on the varsity team, but I know at least one of them.

Lyla’s lips part. “Um,”—she side-eyes Beau, who shrugs—“I think he might be downstairs playing pool.” She wets her lips, gesturing in the general direction of the basement stairs. “Do you want me to go find him?”

“Nope. I’ll find him myself. Thanks.”

“But—” Daph halts whatever she was going to say at the angry look on my face.

“Trust me. I need to talk to him.” My jaw twitches as I look into her eyes. “They were baseball players,” I huff out.

Her face falls. “Oh no.”

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