Guilt At St Joseph's Academy (The Fallen Book 3) Read online

He’s already starting to make his way back up the hill, so I guess he’s too tired or focused on Zeph to argue with me. I’m glad. I didn’t say it to him before, but as far as I’m concerned, with the shock he’s had, he’s not fit to drive.

  Just as I start to follow him, he sprints back again, goes to the window he broke earlier, and begins groping inside the car. He pulls out a bag and shoves it inside his jacket.

  “Don’t want him to get busted when he wakes up,” he explains over his shoulder as he takes off again.

  When we manage to make the tiring scramble back to the car, the paramedics are moments ahead of us. We watch as they load Zeph into the ambulance, yelling medical terms that mean nothing to me, talking into their walkie-talkies, and generally acting as though we’re not there.

  I get it. It’s as it should be. Zeph is the patient, and he deserves nothing but their full attention and the benefit of their expertise. I’d be pissed if they weren’t doing exactly that.

  However, even with that knowledge in the forefront of my mind, it doesn’t stop me from feeling angry at our powerlessness in the situation. I can feel the tension rolling off Tyce, and I know he’s a ticking time bomb about to go off.

  As soon as the EMTs begin closing the ambulance door, I kick into gear again, managing the situation for the both of us, since Tyce seems to be too emotionally spent to do so.

  “Where are you taking him? Central?” I ask one of them.

  “Yes, that’s right. It’s the nearest ED.”

  “Okay, thanks. We’re on our way.”

  “See you there. Oh, and when you get there, you need to get yourself checked over.” She nods toward Tyce. “That’s a pretty nasty gash on your head. It will likely need sutures. And if you’ve hit your head that hard, you may have a concussion.”

  Tyce looks at her as though she told him he’s grown a second head, but reaches up to his temple where she indicated. I hadn’t noticed it before, but she’s right. He has a nasty gouge in his head. He raises his hand to feel the wound, then seems taken by surprise when he brings it down and sees that his fingers are covered in blood.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go.” He mutters the words more to himself than anything.

  “Make sure he gets looked at.” The paramedic is already climbing into the ambulance as she throws the words over her shoulder to me.

  “I will, thanks.” I’m heading toward the car, hot on Tyce’s heels when I respond.

  “She’s right, dude. That looks pretty nasty. You need to make sure it gets fixed. You’ll probably need a tetanus shot, too. I’m guessing you hit it on a branch before we started using the flashlights. Either way, it could easily get—or already be—infected.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. Quit trying to be my mother and drive the fucking car, or I’ll drive it myself.”

  On a normal day, I’d chew him out for speaking to me like that, possibly even threaten to tear him a new one. But today’s not a normal day, not even in the slightest. So I shut my mouth and do what needs to be done, which is to get us quickly but safely to the hospital.

  My phone has been blowing up with calls and messages from Lennon and Jagger this whole time. I’ve ignored them until this point, but now I call Jagger back, and Tyce and I fill him in on what happened.

  “Jesus, that’s heavy as fuck. I can’t believe it.”

  “I know. It’s wild, and not in a good way. I’m just hoping that, by some miracle, his injuries aren’t as bad as they look.”

  “Yeah, me too…” Jagger’s voice trails off.

  I know the feeling. It’s weighing heavily on my mind, and I’m sure it will until we know for sure what the situation is with Zeph. But even then, depending on the outcome, I don’t think any of us are going to be resting easy any time soon, least of all Tyce.

  “Okay, man, thanks for letting me know. I’ll tell Len, and we’ll jump in the car and meet you there.”

  I’m about to tell him that maybe they should wait back at school—there’s no point in us all being there if we don’t know what’s going on with Zeph or whether we’ll be able to see him. But in the end, I decide not to bother. There’s no way they’d listen, anyway; and if Tyce and I are going to be there waiting, why not all of us?

  “Okay, cool. Sounds like a plan. We’ll see you soon.”

  After that, Tyce and I sit quietly, and I can feel the tension and worry radiating from him, even in the heavy silence. I want to do or say something to make him feel better, but I don’t know what he wants or needs right now.

  I reach across the center console and place my hand on his knee, squeezing lightly.

  “He’s going to be okay.”

  “How the fuck do you know that? Are you an MD all of a sudden? He wasn’t breathing.”

  His voice is harsh and aggressive, but I ignore his tone, knowing it’s not truly me his anger is directed at. I’m just the only one here for him to lash out at.

  “I’m not, but just like your gut was telling you that Zeph was at the lookout, I have a strong feeling about this. Don’t ask me why, except for the fact that it’s Zeph. If anyone is stubborn enough to come through something like this, just so that he can kick the world’s ass and continue to make people’s lives miserable, it’s him.”

  Tyce’s bitter laughter crackles around the small space inside the car.

  “True that. Motherfucker’s probably going to live to one-hundred-and-fifty, just so that he can give several generations a hard time.”

  I laugh softly, happy to see that amid the drama and worry, Tyce still has his humor, at least. I silently pray that my hunch about Zeph is right, and Tyce gets to keep his good spirits.

  Even though I’m driving faster than I should—tickets be damned—the trip back into the city seems to take an age and a half. Somehow, no matter how far or fast we go, we don’t seem to get any nearer. Despite my attempt to keep my mood up, and helping Tyce do the same, I’m stressed to hell and back when we finally arrive.

  We get to the hospital parking and find somewhere to leave the car before heading to the ED to try to find out what’s going on. The receptionist tells us that Zeph is in triage, and we can’t see him right now, just as I thought would be the case.

  She can’t give us any idea when we might be able to see him, but lets us know that Zeph’s parents have been contacted via his driver’s license details on the DMV database, and are on the way. The doctors will let them know any information they have at that point.

  Zeph’s parents. Shit.

  “Motherfucker. It didn’t even occur to me to call his mom and dad.” Tyce must have had exactly the same thought at the same time as me.

  I thank the receptionist and move toward an empty bank of chairs, gently leading Tyce by the arm at the same time.

  “Neither did I. But it’s understandable, man. We were so focused on Zeph.”

  “Yeah, but we remembered to call Len and Jags. We should have thought to contact them. Especially me. You hardly know Xavier and Rocky, but I know them. Regardless of what shit Zeph goes through with them, or what he says about or thinks of them, they’re good people. They’d want to know as soon as it all went down. I should have called them before I did anything else.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not like you were doing it to be an asshole.”

  “Nah, but it was still a dick move.”

  “It was an oversight. You were stressed out and likely in shock. Shock can do strange things to the body and mind. Not to mention the fact that you bumped your head real bad, and we still don’t know if you have a concussion.”

  “I don’t have a concussion. I’m fine,” he snaps

  I reach toward the wound on his forehead, but he swats me away.

  “Stop it. I said I’m good. Just leave it.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not seeing it from where I’m sitting. Fine is not a word I’d use to describe the state of your forehead right now. That shit looks deep and nasty. You look worse than me when I went head-to-head with The
Hammer.” I squint, trying to get a better look, while he bobs around, actively trying to move out of my line of vision.

  “Jesus Christ. Do you have to always be so hardheaded? Nah, scratch that. Maybe in this case you needed to be harder headed, since the branch, or whatever you bashed into, clearly won this round. Nature: one. Tyce: zero.”

  Tyce flips me off. “Suck it, man.”

  “Okay, but all jokes aside, at a minimum, that needs to be washed out and sutured. You can’t walk around with your flesh flapping like that. And speaking of hardheadedness, you know how stubborn I can be. I’m not about to back down on this, so you might as well save your energy and not bother fighting me on it.”

  “You’re a fucking hypocrite.” He spits the words my way like he really means them.

  “Oh yeah, and how do you figure that?”

  “It’s not that long ago that I was insisting you needed medical attention—in fact, on two occasions—and you told me to go fuck myself.”

  I can’t help but smile at the recollection. “I can’t argue with that, it’s totally true. But it’s also true that this is a very different situation.”

  “Okay, asshole, but how is this so different?”

  “Well, first off, the way we sustained the injuries makes a big difference. You have nothing to lose or incriminate yourself by seeking medical attention, especially since you’re sitting in a motherfucking hospital, surrounded by medical staff; whereas I would have had some explaining to do in the same situation. Plus, I didn’t have a concussion, either time.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Nor could you, but the point was to get checked out, just in case.”

  “Okay, but don’t you see the irony of you insisting I get checked out back then, but refusing to do the same now?”

  He pauses for a moment, as though weighing up his words. “Nah. The way I see it, it’s no more ironic than you refusing to go to the hospital, but insisting that I do.”

  “I guess. That makes us even in the stubborn pricks stakes.”

  “I guess it does, and I give zero fucks. I will always reserve the right to completely ignore the advice I give to other people, when I’m faced with the same situation myself.”

  “Same. Do as I say, not as I do.”

  “Spoken like a true asshole.” His voice sounds a little lighter than before, and I’m relieved that our joking has at least helped him relax a little.

  “Takes one to know one. Asshole.”

  Chapter 4

  Blake

  I blow gently on my piping hot coffee and look down at my phone screen as it sparks back to life. It died last night when I first took off from home—after my dad coaxed me down from the roof—and I didn’t charge it. I didn’t want to be in contact with anyone, anyway. I just needed to be left alone to clear my head in peace.

  Now, more than twenty-four hours later, I guess I feel calm and clear-headed enough to deal with the people in my life. Some of them, anyway. I’ll honestly be happy if I never speak to my dad or Zeph again. I feel so betrayed by both of them.

  In reality, Geneva has probably been the only person to call or message me, and even then, maybe not. I tried my best to reassure her that I was fine when we spoke last, so she might not have thought to call again.

  Zeph doesn’t have my number, but even if he did, I don’t see why he would bother. He’s not the kind of guy to apologize, and in this case, I’m sure he doesn’t think he has anything to apologize for, anyway. In some ways, I agree. It’s not like we’re dating, or we even like each other most of the time, so he doesn’t owe me anything.

  I doubt my dad would have bothered, either. As out of character as it was for him to intercept me on the roof, I’m confident his motivation was nothing to do with keeping me safe. Instead, it had everything to do with not wanting to attract attention to him and his criminal activities by having me show up dead on the sidewalk outside our apartment block.

  I hardly get to switch my phone on before it’s ringing on the table in front of me. WTF? I came to the diner to warm up, get a hot drink and something to eat—since I finally have an appetite—and decide what my next move should be. My coffee is still too hot to drink, and I haven’t even taken a bite of my burger yet.

  Not only that, but I don’t have a game plan for how I’m going to deal with the current shit show that is my life. I reach for the phone, noting that the call is from Geneva. I feel mean for not responding, but I still can’t quite face her. Just as I divert the call, my notifications pop up.

  Holy. Shit.

  I have like a million missed calls and almost as many texts. I flick quickly and see that most of the calls are from Geneva, but there are a bunch from a number I don’t have saved in my phone. I scan the messages and feel the blood drain from my head to my toes.

  “OMG! Where have you been? Are you okay? We thought you were hurt, or dead.” Panic laces her voice.

  I briefly wonder who “we” is, but I don’t ask.

  “Um… I’m sorry. I’m fine, I guess. But what’s going on with you? Are you okay? Your message said it’s an emergency.” I’m panicking too. Geneva is pretty chill most of the time, so to see her this rattled makes me think something terrible has happened.

  “Yeah. I mean… I’m okay. I guess. It’s not me, it’s Zeph.”

  “Zeph? What about him?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Just that there’s been some kind of car accident, and he’s been badly hurt. He’s been rushed to Central.”

  “What? What happened…?” My thoughts are jumbled.

  “I don’t know any real details except that it’s not looking good. I know he hurt you, but… I think you should maybe go to the hospital, just in case…”

  I can hardly think straight. “Is it that bad?” I’m scrambling to make sense of what she’s telling me.

  “I don’t know. All I have is what the twins—I mean Lennon and Jagger—told me. All the boys have raced to the hospital, but at this point, nobody really knows anything apart from the fact that he’s in pretty bad shape.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. I stayed behind at school because I don’t know him very well, but then I felt kind of weird, and I wanted to… I dunno… Anyway, I thought if I managed to get in touch with you, I could come get you on the way to the hospital. Where are you?”

  “I’m in the city.” I reel off the address of the diner.

  “Okay. Sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Okay… Nevie… thanks.”

  “Shut up. You’d do the same for me.” Her voice is soft.

  She’s right. I would, in a heartbeat.

  When I hang up the phone, I look back down at the burger in front of me. Just as I finally got my appetite back, it’s gone again. The thought of eating anything turns my stomach. I push it across the table, unopened, and pick up my coffee again. I peer into it and replace the lid I’d taken off before the phone rang.

  I decide to take it with me while I wait for Geneva—if nothing else, the milk and sugar will give me a little energy. It’s not a meal, but it’s the best I can manage right now.

  When Geneva pulls up outside the diner, I jump into the passenger seat.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself. You know you scared the fucking shit out of me, right? Out of us, in fact.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t think…”

  “Look, I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Shit! I told myself on the way over here that I was going to play it cool and not hassle or guilt-trip you, and right away, I fucked that to hell and back.”

  “No, it’s okay. You’re right. I honestly didn’t even consider the effects of what I was doing. I mean, I did… I needed to get out of the house. I needed some time alone, to think and clear my head. I guess it didn’t occur to me that anyone would notice, let alone be worried.”

  “Are you fucking insane?”

  I guess the wh
ole trying not to act mad thing isn’t really working out for her, because she’s definitely crazy pissed at me right now.

  “No. But I mean…”

  “Well, people did notice.”

  “Yeah, about that…” She said “we” before, and now she’s talking about “people.” Which people? “Who do you mean? Apart from you, of course.”

  “Oh, so you are insane.” She shoots me a look before turning back to concentrate on the road ahead of us.

  “I’m not. I’m just genuinely—”

  “Well, how about three specific people? Three hot, stubborn assholes who don’t like to take no for an answer?”

  “Really?” I’m in shock.

  “You’re not seriously asking me this shit, are you? Like… where were you? Did you bump your head and knock out a few brain cells? Or wipe your memory entirely? Those boys were going out of their minds with worry about you.”

  “Were they?”

  “No. I’m lying. Yes, they were. They were pacing around like wild animals. Especially Zeph.” I’m struggling to take in everything she’s telling me. “He pretty much threatened to rip my internal organs out and eat them if I didn’t give him your phone number and address.”

  “Ewww, gross. Also, what? That didn’t happen.”

  “It absolutely happened. And news flash… When he’s pissed the way he was when you disappeared, your man is gross. Not to mention scary as hell.”

  “He’s not my man.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’d beg to differ. The way he was stressed out about where you were, then harassed me until I gave him your deets would suggest that he’s very much yours, and you’re very much his.

  “You’re wrong. He’s not my man, and I’m not his anything.”

  “As I said, tell that to the guy who went to your house and threatened your dad.”

  “OMG? What?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  She glances across at me. “When he got over calling incessantly, he decided he needed to do something, and that something was to head to your apartment to see if he could find you himself. Your dad didn’t tell you? No, he obviously didn’t.”