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Someone cleared their throat. I turned my head weakly to the sound.

David sat in the chair beside my bed, staring at me. His foot tapped anxiously against the floor.

I blinked to make sure what I was seeing was real. Then a smile formed on my face. An actual smile. Was I dreaming? This was too funny.

“How ironic,” I murmured with a chuckle, looking back at the ceiling. “And here I thought Mother would be sitting in that spot.”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” David hissed.

I let the silence stretch between us until I couldn’t take it anymore. David was the last person I expected to see at my bedside. What was he doing here? Why now?

“Don’t start trying to be a father now,” I spat, my animosity cracking the silence.

I could feel the hate radiating from David’s eyes.

“Do you know what was assumed about your little beating?” David finally asked. His wording was casual, almost friendly. But I knew better. I could already sense the growing hostility behind his words.

“I don’t care what you assume,” I growled.

“Oh, it’s not me,” David responded with a quick gesture of his hand. “I’m talking about the police—my co-workers. Would you like to know what they think of this fiasco?”

I was quiet. Curiosity prickled at the back of my neck.

David scooted his chair closer to my hospital bed. He placed his hands inches away from my arm, pulling himself ever closer, so close that his mouth was nearly at my ear. I tried my hardest not to flinch or gag.

“They think it was a gay hate crime. They think that you, the youngest Hansen, are in a relationship with the enemy. It’s all over the news.”

I stared at him. David continued to stare down at me, expecting some sort of reaction.

I shrugged. “So what? Do you think I give a shit what everyone else thinks of me?”

David stretched back into his chair, comfortably crossing his arms behind his head. “Well, imagine that. Noah, victim to a gay hate crime.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I whispered.

“Are you gay, Noah?” he taunted.

I shot daggers at him with my eyes. “Are you gay, David?”

His expression faltered.

I cocked my head to the side. “What? You sure like to fuck men in secret. Is that not the definition of—”

David lunged forward and grabbed my shirt, yanking me upward. A groan ripped out of me as pain flared in my ribs. He was right in my face, shaking me.

“You watch your fucking mouth!” David screamed through clenched teeth, the muscles in his face twitching with each word.

I guess he expected me to show fear or something. I was over it. He couldn’t intimidate me here. We were in a public place filled with people watching my body’s every move on a monitor. I couldn’t care less what he did to me, and I wasn’t about to let the man who raped me sit here and lecture me about my sexuality. The irony of this conversation had me nauseated.

“What can you do?” I asked with a flick of my wrist. “Look around. I’m in a fucking hospital bed! Do you think I give a shit if you hit me again? You gave me half of these injuries.”

David’s chest heaved.

“I didn’t think so,” I whispered. “Now leave me alone so I can sleep in peace.”

“Are you and that Thorne fucking each other?”

For a second, I just stared up at him. The question came out of nowhere. The accusation was never one I wanted to face, especially in front of David.