Tell Me When (25 page)

Chapter Fifty-One

Marcus

“We made a mistake. Ryan let you keep hurting him just so you wouldn’t hurt me. Isn’t that right?” I scream the last part. Frank doesn’t answer, not that he needs to. I already know the truth.

And now so does Amber.

The secret Ryan begged me to keep is no longer a secret. I’ve betrayed my brother’s dying wish, but I’ve betrayed Alejandro’s trust in me even more. He’ll never forgive me for what I’ve done and for what I didn’t do.

And I don’t blame him.

Amber looks like she’s going to storm in here and hit Frank, and I silently will her to stay put.

She mouths, “I’m sorry,” and I know that she is. She’s sorry for what Frank did to me and Ryan, and she’s sorry for finding out this way, instead of my being the one to tell her—when I was ready.

I lean down and whisper in Alejandro’s ear, “Amber’s in the hallway. Go outside with her and wait. Whatever you do, don’t let him know she’s here.”

He gives a small nod and leaves, taking Amber with him. I don’t have time to dwell on what she now thinks about me. I just relish the warmth surging through me that she cared enough to come looking for me. For now, it’ll have to do.

“Hey, where’s he goin’?”

“This is between you and me, Frank.” I don’t wait to hear the main door click shut. I launch myself into him. He’s used to beating me up without my fighting back. I learned at an early age that there was no point in fighting back. It only made things worse.

The benefit of that is he’s not prepared for my attack. He stumbles back and I punch him in the jaw. Fortunately he didn’t have the foresight to dodge out of the way before my fist made contact.

“That’s for what you did to me and Ryan.” My knuckles throb but it’s a pain I more than welcome.

Before he can retaliate, I punch his gut. He doubles over, breath ragged. “And that’s for Alejandro and everyone else you’ve hurt.”

He recovers and charges at me. I sidestep out of his way. Years of basketball have made me quick on my feet. Years of beers turned him into a slug.

He spins around before I can jump him. “Should’ve tossed out your sorry ass when your mom and I hooked up. It’s not like she ever wanted ya.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.” I swing at him. My fist slams into his eye. “It’s over, Frank. I might not be able to press charges against you, but once I talk to the cops, they’ll investigate, and all your dirty secrets will be out.” Including mine.

Shame crashes through me, but instead of making me weak, it fires up my anger.

Frank moves to the side, placing a metal folding chair between us. As if that’s going to stop me. A satisfied smile spreads on his lips.

What the fuck?

“Last chance to accept my offer, Marcus. Just how badly do ya want that gravestone for Ryan?”

He slips his hand into his jacket pocket.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Amber

“Who’s the man you two were talking to?” I ask Alejandro once we’re outside. My fingers tap against my thigh. I don’t bother to stop them.

Alejandro leans back against the wall, arms crossed. “Frank Wilson. Marcus’s stepfather.”

I don’t even know what to say to that. The man was supposed to protect Marcus and Ryan, and love them. Not physically abuse them or demean them in the worst possible way.

Once again, I wonder what kind of mother would marry a monster like that, and do nothing to protect her sons. Even my mom, with all her faults, would never be so cruel.

The pain on Alejandro’s face leaves me numb. Marcus and Ryan weren’t Frank’s only victims. Alejandro is one, too.

“If Marcus had known what Frank was doing to you,” I say, “he would have stopped him.”

“What do you know about anythin’?” The way he says it confirms what I already suspect.

“I know what it’s like to trust someone and have them hurt you to the point where you wish you were dead. I know what it’s like to wait for someone to save you, but no one comes. I know what it’s like to live as a shadow of who you used to be, too afraid to trust again. And I know what it’s like to be broken and wonder if you’ll ever feel normal again.”

He looks at me with renewed curiosity. “What ha—” A sharp noise, like a backfiring engine from inside the building, interrupts him.

I suck the chilled air into my lungs and feel it spread through my body. We spin around and stare at the door, unsure what to do.

Seconds later, the door flies open and slams against the brick wall. Frank spares us a moment’s glance, face white, blood splattered on his royal blue jacket. At first I think it’s his, but then remember what Marcus told me about Ryan’s death. His stepfather shot Ryan. Which means Frank has a gun.

Before I can register what that means for Alejandro and me, Frank takes off. He scurries across the street. I don’t wait long enough to see where he’s going. I shove my phone at Alejandro and yell for him to call 9-1-1 as I yank open the door.

I run back to Dave’s office. Marcus is sprawled on the floor, a hand pressed below his left shoulder. Blood covers his T-shirt and seeps from under his hand. A wave of dizziness rushes over me. I bite my lip hard. No matter what, I’ve got to keep myself together and not have a flashback.

I drop down beside him and touch his arm. “Marcus, it’s going to be okay. An ambulance is on the way.” He moans.

I rush to the file cabinet and grab the first-aid kit before returning to his side. He’s lost so much blood. I’m not sure how coherent he is anymore. I flip the catches open and lift the lid, praying it contains more than just Band-Aids.

After rifling through the kit, I snatch up two individual packages of large gauze pads and rip them open. “Here, I’ve got something for the bleeding.”

Marcus is barely able to apply pressure to the wound, his energy rapidly draining. It doesn’t take much effort to peel his hand away. I push up the sleeve of his blood-soaked T-shirt and press the pads on the wound.

Marcus groans.

God, where’s the ambulance? He won’t last much longer.

That thought drowns out the effects of the adrenalin that’s been keeping me going until now. Tears cloud my vision.

“I...” Marcus whispers. “I didn’t...accept his offer.” I can just make out his words. “Tell...cops what you...heard.” He winces at the effort it costs him to talk.

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell him to stop talking, so his condition doesn’t worsen, or keep him talking so he doesn’t slip into unconsciousness.

“He needs to be...stopped.”

“I will. I promise.” With my free hand, I interlace my fingers with his. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your messages sooner.”

Marcus’s eyes drift shut and he whispers, “I love you, Kitten.” The tears I’ve managed to hold back break free. One lands on his hand. I sniff.

“I love you, too.” I should feel lighter saying those words, but I feel the opposite. Every time I open my heart to someone, they’re ripped away. But even knowing that, I repeat the words for Marcus’s sake. He hasn’t experienced much love in his life. The people who were supposed to love him turned their backs on him. And he never gave any other girl a chance to love him. To really love him. Not like he gave me.

I kiss his cool lips. A tear splashes onto his cheek. “Stay with me, Marcus. Please don’t leave me.”

After what feels like a million years, sirens approach and blue and red lights flash behind the closed blinds. The main door bangs open and a few seconds later a cop followed by two EMTs enters the room.

“He’s been shot,” I say, my hand still pressed against Marcus’s wound.

One of the EMTs kneels next to me. “You need to move away so I can work on him.”

Still on my knees I back away, and use the desk corner to help me stand. Now that the EMTs are taking care of him, my body starts shaking violently. I keep hold of the desk so I don’t collapse.

“I need to ask you some questions,” the cop says as I watch the EMTs work.

“Okay,” I whisper past the lump wedged tight in my throat.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I didn’t see everything.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “Tell me what you did see.”

I tell him about finding Marcus and Alejandro in the office, talking to Marcus’s stepfather. I tell him how Marcus admitted that Frank sexually assaulted Marcus and raped Ryan. I tell him how Frank had offered to pay for Ryan’s gravestone if Marcus kept quiet about everything. I tell him Alejandro and I were outside when we heard the gunshot. And as the EMTs roll Marcus away on the stretcher, I tell him how Frank ran out, covered in blood. The only thing I leave out is that Alejandro has also been victimized by the monster. Alejandro has to find the courage to tell the cop the truth.

The cop keeps me here long after Marcus is taken away, asking me more questions, many of which I don’t have answers to. After awhile, I don’t care anymore. I just want to be with Marcus.

Once the cop finishes, I drive to the hospital in a daze.

I park and sprint into the ER and ask the nurse about Marcus. I’m redirected upstairs, to the surgical waiting rooms.

The cop told me Marcus’s mother will be contacted. From what limited information Marcus has told me about her, I’d be surprised if she shows up. Secretly, I hope she doesn’t. I’d rather see Tammara here. At least in her own twisted way, she cares more about Marcus than his mother ever did.

Chase comes hurtling into the waiting room forty minutes later, breathing hard. All I can do is throw my arms around him and cry against his shoulder. He wraps me in his arms and hugs me tight. We’re not the only ones here. It’s been a busy night. Two other families sit in their own corners, stuck in their own private hell.

“What happened?” Chase asks once my sobbing slows enough for me to catch my breath and answer.

I don’t want to tell him everything. Not here where the families can hear us. None of them need to hear the horrifying details of what Marcus and his brother suffered through. And it’s not my place to tell Chase. Marcus only gave me permission to tell the cops the truth.

I repeat what I told him on the phone, adding a little more detail this time, about how Frank shot Marcus. Chase clenches his hands, ready to punch the wall. Several times.

“Do you think his mom will come?” My fingers tap-tap-tap against my thigh. I stop them midtap, then pick at the small thread sticking out of the tear in the padded chair I’m sitting on.

Chase shakes his head. “You and I are all he has, Amber.”

It kills me to hear that, even though it’s true. Marcus has spent most of his life building walls to keep people out. At least now I know why.

I lean my head against Chase’s shoulder. He keeps his arm around me as my eyes drift shut. At some point he shifts slightly, jarring me awake.

“You should go home,” he says, his voice low. “Don’t you have a math final tomorrow?”

“How did you know?”

“Marcus told me. He’s been worried about you and blamed himself for not being there for you. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s quick at blaming himself for everything.” Pretty much like me. “Go home. I’ll call you once I know something.”

I smile at him, grateful for his concern. “Thanks, but I’d rather stay.” It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep or study anyway.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” More than ever before.

An hour or two later, a guy in scrubs comes into the room and approaches us. One family has already left after receiving bad news. I hold my breath, hoping the guy isn’t going to tell me what another surgeon told them.

“Are you Marcus Reid’s family?” he asks.

“He doesn’t have any family,” Chase says.

The surgeon checks the file in his hand. “It lists his parents here as next of kin.”

Chase grunts. “No one knows who or where his biological father is. His stepfather’s the one who shot Marcus.” He gestures at the room. “And as you can see, his mother doesn’t give a damn about him, even though I’m positive the cops told her hours ago that Marcus is here. So you tell me. Do you think he has family?” He pretty much growls the last part.

I put my hand on his knee, knowing how much this is killing Chase, like it’s killing me. What if they won’t tell us anything or won’t let me see him because we aren’t his family, even though we’re more family to him than his parents ever were?

The surgeon looks at the chart again, then looks back at us. “He’s out of surgery and is recovering.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” I ask.

“Barring complications, he’ll be fine.”

“Can we see him now?”

“It’s late and he’s sleeping. You should go home and rest, then you can see him in the morning.”

“Please,” I breathe. “Just for a minute.”

I don’t know what he sees in my face. Maybe a girl who’s scared he’s not telling the truth because she’s been lied to too many times before, or a girl who struggles to find hope when it’s been stolen more times than she cares to admit. Whatever it is, it’s enough for him to cave in and tell me I can see Marcus for a minute. But only me.

He directs me to the ICU. Chase waits in the hallway while a nurse leads me to Marcus’s bed. His eyes are closed and his skin is as white as the sheets, but he’s still the same guy I love. And more important, he’s alive. The beeping heart rate monitor by his bed is all the proof I need of this.

Tears prickle my eyes as I smile at him. I don’t say anything. I just watch him sleep, hoping he doesn’t have any nightmares, knowing I will. But maybe the therapist can help me with those, too.

The nurse comes to tell me it’s time to go.

“I love you,” I whisper, my heart fluttering at the words.

I drive back to the dorm and tumble into bed. But tonight it isn’t nightmares that follow me into sleep. Tonight I dream of strong arms, a crooked smirk, and the belief that normal might actually be possible.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Amber

“Amber!” Someone shakes my shoulder.

I open my eyes and blink the room into focus. My head is resting on my arms, which are folded on top of a textbook. I sit up and spot Brittany’s drawing of Marcus and me on the wall.

Memories of last night swarm me. My chest feels as though someone jumped on it, forcing air out of my lungs.

“Isn’t your math test soon?” Brittany nods at my alarm clock. Crap, it’s already 10:50. My exam begins in ten minutes.

“Thanks.” I grab my backpack and bolt from my room without bothering with my jacket, and sprint across campus, though the falling snow, to the classroom. A few last-minute students scurry into the room as I approach. I enter the room with a minute to spare, and locate an empty seat with a test booklet facedown on the desk.

My lungs burn as I fight to catch my breath. Snow melts in my hair and drips down my face and Trent’s hoodie.

“You may begin,” a man at the front of the room announces.

Just remember to breathe
, Marcus’s voice says in my head. My throat tightens.
Focus.
Just three hours, then I’ll be finished with the exam and can hold him and make sure he knows how much I love him.

I flip the test over.

On the way to the classroom, I didn’t have time to think about Marcus, but now that I’m sitting, the memory of the gunshot, the memory of seeing Marcus barely conscious, the memory of so much blood, and the memory of Marcus pale against the hospital sheets spills into my mind, and shoves aside everything I knew for the exam.

I try pushing all non—math-related thoughts from my head and focus on the test. I finish the first twenty questions, but my mind keeps drifting. The memories I’m struggling to forget, and the fear that something’s happened to Marcus since I left the hospital, keep bombarding my brain.

Focus.
Focus.
Focus.
FOCUS.

I work through the questions, but my pace is dragging. I yawn and round my eyes in an attempt to prevent them from shutting. The moment I do it’s over.

The person in the next row over coughs. I look up and spot a guy who could easily be Alejandro in five years. He’s working away at his test, hopefully never having experienced the same horrors as Marcus and Alejandro.

Tears prick my eyes at what Frank did to them and Ryan. Marcus once said the world doesn’t give a shit what happens to victims, especially kids. It only cares about the people who count. Jordan wants to make a difference. So do I.

And right now, I want to be at the hospital with Marcus, to be there when he wakes up. So he’s not alone.

I finish the question I’m working on and walk to the front of the room. I hand the unfinished test to my instructor. “My boyfriend is recovering from surgery he had last night. As much as I want to finish this test and the course, I can’t stay here anymore. I need to be there for him.”

The man gives a curt nod, his expression unreadable. I shoulder my backpack and leave.