Playing Heart Games

Level 61: Comfort Him

VIOLET

Classroom M8 at lunch?

—Axel

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, staring at the door. I hadn't seen Axel since the luncheon. I'd been so relieved when he'd finally texted me. I hadn't been able to think about anything else. The school was consumed with what happened. Wherever I turned, people were talking about it. It was awful. I had no idea how Axel was feeling right now—what he was going through.

The door opened.

"Axel—" My eyes widened. I rushed towards him. "What happened?"

Stretched around his cheek and jaw was a large blue-purple bruise.

Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my neck.

Worry sparked through me. "Axel?"

His hands tightened on my shirt. "Just give me a second," he mumbled.

I rubbed my hand up and down his back. "Okay."

After a while he pulled back. He wouldn't meet my gaze.

"Axel..." I touched his uninjured cheek.

He finally looked at me. His eyes were dark, shadows hanging beneath them.

Are you okay seemed like a stupid question.

I straightened. "We need a cold compress for your bruise, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay," he murmured.

I nudged a desk. "Can you sit for me?"

He did as I asked.

I searched for the first aid kit that was in every classroom. It was in the bottom drawer of the teacher's desk. Axel didn't move as I pressed a cold compress to his cheek.

"How did you get the bruise?" I asked.

He stared at the ground, his eyes dark. "Vincent punched me."

I stiffened. His dad?

"Everything's gone wrong," Axel murmured. "And it's all my fault."

I shook my head. "This is not your fault, Axel."

He shrugged.

I nudged his chin so he had to look at me. "Listen to me—this isn't your fault. It was not your job to hold your family together. And it was not your job to keep your father's secret. Vincent should never have made it your job. He was in the wrong. And Brielle was in the wrong for blackmailing you, and for releasing that video. You did nothing wrong."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, "Will you think I'm a loser if I cry?"

"Of course not."

*

"You're staying in a hotel?" I asked, alarmed.

Axel worked his jaw, then returned the cold compress to his face. "Yeah. Mom needs the apartment—she has to stay somewhere familiar. And she's with Asher so he won't do anything—" his expression darkened "—dangerous."

"Isn't Asher in school today?"

Axel shook his head. "I texted him to stay home. Better to avoid being stared at all day."

I squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry."

Axel's smile was small, but at least it was there. He kissed my knuckles. "Don't be Curls—you didn't do anything wrong."

"Still," I mumbled.

Then I frowned. The sleeve of his right forearm had slid down, revealing a long scar.

I touched it, tentative. "Where did you get this?"

Axel pulled up his sleeve. "Get what?"

"The scar," I said. "Where did you get that scar?"

He tried for another smile. "When I took Asher's place, I had to make it look believable."

I froze.

Axel's brows furrowed. He caught my waist, pulling me closer. "Hey, Curls, don't look at me like that."

I pushed against his chest. "Axel." I couldn't even— "That is not okay."

Axel blinked, surprised. "I just did it for the act—"

"That still doesn't make it okay, Axel," I said. "You can't do stuff like that."

He caught my hand as I stepped back. "Okay—don't leave. I'm sorry."

I shook my head, my thoughts running too quickly for my words. "This whole thing is wrong. Keeping Asher's secret—going to rehab instead of him. You never should have done it."

Axel stiffened. "I had no choice."

"Yes, you did," I insisted. "You could have told your parents the truth—"

He pulled his hand away from mine, dragging it through his hair. "You don't get it. Asher can't handle people being disappointed in him. If he had to go through what mom and dad have been doing since I came back, he would have cracked. He's suffering, Violet."

"And you're not?"

He stilled. "I'm fine."

"No," I said. "You're not. What Brielle is doing to you is wrong. What your parents are doing to you is wrong. You keep torturing yourself because you're trying to protect everyone. And you need to stop—because you shouldn't have to be the one doing the protecting."

Axel shook his head. "Violet, stop."

"Rehab would have helped Asher—"

"No, it wouldn't."

"He could have gotten better—"

Axel got to his feet. "Or he would have—" He cut off abruptly, his skin paling.

I froze.

The words he hadn't said hovered in the room. I could almost see them, wrapping around his throat.

"I am not," Axel whispered, "going to risk my brother's life on a gamble."

I swallowed. "Axel..."

"Let's not talk about this." He caught my hand. "Please. I don't want to fight with you too."

My shoulders sagged. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." He wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips against my hair. "I really miss your curls."

I choked out a laugh. "I miss them too." I shifted my head so I could see his face. "I love you."

He gave me an exhausted smile. "Love you more."

"Unlikely," I said. Then I kissed him.

He laughed. "Trust me," he mumbled against my mouth.

Then he leaned in. His arm was sliding around my waist, his hand slipping through my hair, craning my head back—

"What. The. F**k?"

We broke apart, our gazes whipping to the door.

To Brielle.