Page 93 of Crashing Tides

I nod, my eyes burning.

When she leaves, I start crying and I can’t stop.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

After the hospital releases me, I spend two days in my dorm room, recovering. Gretchen wants to stick me in a hotel room, but I don’t need round the clock care, just rest. Aleo takes one look at me and goes pale. He checks in on me every few hours, relieved when I don’t need anything.

Maybe I should’ve let Gretchen take care of me. I’d feel guilty about my lapse of judgment if I could keep my eyes open.

I spend two days mostly sleeping, waking only to change out my bandages and answer the occasional text on my new-old phone (it was Nora’s until a couple of months ago, and the screen is cracked, but it works and I’m grateful). Jane stops by to see me, but I’m wiped out from meds, so our discussion is brief. I swear up and down I’ll tell her what the fuck happened when I’m feeling a little better. She leaves with red eyes and a trembling lip.

I hate making everyone cry. I know I look like shit and I’m not helping my case by being completely exhausted. It’s like I just can’t stop sleeping.

And then, against my better judgment, I drag myself out of bed on the third afternoon and meander to Duncan’s room. Every step is exhausting. I realize pretty quickly that I’ve made a terrible decision, but I won’t suffer the humiliation of asking a total stranger to escort me back to my room, so I force myself to keep moving. Eyes follow me across campus, taking in the massive bruise across my face, the marks on my neck. Gretchen bought me turtlenecks before she left, and I’m wearing one now, but it doesn’t conceal all the bruises along my jaw, the popped blood vessels in my eyes.

People know I got strangled, that Jordan and his brother beat the shit out of me. The story has spread like wildfire. Whispers surround me everywhere I go.

What did he do? How the fuck did this happen? Did he deserve it?

I ignore them.

By the time I make it to Dragoncrest Tower, I am sweaty, exhausted, sore. The stairs loom before me, an impossible task, but I ascend them anyway one step at a time, my breathing shallow.

When I finally reach the fourth floor, I use the brass knocker. The fish’s huge, bulbous eyes stare at me like they’re also horrified by my bruises. I’m in so much pain that my vision slides out of focus.

The door doesn’t open.

I should call Duncan. I will call him, I tell myself. In just a minute. After I’ve rested.

I sit on the floor, my back pressed against the heavy, lacquered oak door and close my eyes, breathing heavily like I just ran twenty miles without stopping.

I fall asleep like that, and startle awake to the sound of a creaking hinge. “Oh, shit.” Felix Cervantes stands in his doorway, concern written across his face. “Dominic, hey. Are you OK?”

Obviously not, I think, annoyed, but I nod. “I was looking for Duncan. And also,” I struggle to my feet, begrudgingly taking the hand Felix offers me. “I wanted to thank you. I-I’m sorry.”

His expression is somber. Not for the first time, I wonder what I told him in the halls. I know I babbled and cried a lot, that Duncan had to constantly reassure me. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he says. “I’m gonna call Duncan.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. The wooden doorframe scrapes against a bruise on my shoulder when I lean into it. The sting is strangely grounding. “I’m still⁠—”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” says Felix firmly. “I’m not mad at you. Nobody is mad at you. But this isn’t the place.” He presses his phone to his ear. A few beats pass, then he says, “Duncan, hey. I thought you should know Dominic is looking for you.” He frowns. “Yeah, he’s at the door.” A pause. “Yeah, I’ll let him know. See you soon.” Lowering the phone, he says, “He’s on the way.”

“Thank you,” I groan. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, but I can’t pass out here. Can’t be a burden when Felix has already helped me so much.

We have a short conversation, mostly about how I’m feeling, if I’ve remembered anything new. I shake my head at that and regret it. This conversation is all for show. Even if I happened to recall anything, I wouldn’t share it in the hallway.

Not when we share the same secret.

I don’t think about Jordan. As far as I’m concerned, he tried to kill me several times over. One of us had to die. If it had been me, he wouldn’t feel remorse.

Then again, I’m not the one who killed him.

It’s a relief to hear footsteps racing up the stairs. When Duncan appears, he’s wearing gym clothes and his hair is slick with sweat.

For some reason, this soothes the part of me that had been worried. Felix told Duncan I was here and he didn’t even bother to shower before hurrying over. Mate, he called me and I’m starting to wonder if that might be true.

“Dominic,” he chokes, eyes glazing right over Felix, like he isn’t even here in the hallway with us. “Are you—Should you be out of bed?”