Untouchable (boyxboy)

Chapter 20

A bunch of stuff happens while I'm in the hospital, most of which I learn about through my dad, who refuses to leave my side despite the fact that I'm more-or-less fine, and sleeping in a chair is hell on his back.

Even confronted with the damning evidence on the recording, Dylan hadn't gone down without a fight. He'd tried to claim that both voices were mine, painting himself as some sort of tragic Gilbert Grape character stuck taking care of his ailing father and his deranged little brother.

Luckily, his story had not held up to scrutiny. For one thing, the time stamp on the recording showed it had been made just moments before, and everyone had witnessed him take that call, then ask to speak with me alone.

Occam's razor, and all that.

The wedding is canceled, of course. As the fault lies with our side, Belle's family would have been within their rights to demand reparations of some sort—a shit-ton of money has already been spent, after all—but they don't.

They're good people. They know we don't have the means, and they understand that, while she might be heart-broken now, Belle has been saved from a lot of future pain.

Dylan was arrested at the house for assault. Maybe he didn't push me, but it could easily be argued that he made me fall, and that he meant to do it. In other circumstances, the charges might not have stuck—it was basically an accident, after all—but it turns out my tip had made its way to the right ears.

The FBI had been after Neil for a long time, and Dylan was just what they'd been waiting for. Like the typical bully, he'd cried as soon as the tables were turned, and made a plea deal—testify against Neil in exchange for immunity. While I'd been right—he'd been plenty deep in the shit himself—he was small fry compared to Neil.

As for me—like I said, I'm okay. I broke my arm and my wrist, sprained a leg, and had to wear a neck-brace for a few days, but otherwise, I'm fine. I'm more worried about my dad, to be honest. He's taken it hard, and we both have hurts that go a lot deeper than bruises and broken bones.

"Why didn't you tell me, Felix?" he asks once he fully understands. "Why didn't you come to me the very first time?"

I'd rather stare at the ugly picture on the hospital room wall than meet his eyes, but I do anyway, blinking against unwanted tears.

I don't have a good answer. Kid logic doesn't always make sense, and neither does adult logic, to be honest.

"A mix of dumb reasons," I admit. "I thought I could handle it myself, and I guess I believed Dylan's lies—that I deserved it, that no one would believe me anyway. After a while, I was just ashamed, and I didn't want to cause you trouble. You had so much to deal with—working full time, raising two kids. You were always so tired when you got home. Then you got sick, and...it seemed like there were more important things."

I'd only seen my dad cry once before, but he cries at that.

"Felix, nothing was more important to me than you boys. I wish to hell you'd told me," he shakes his head, "for your own sake, and for Dylan's too. Maybe if I'd known and put a stop to it, things would be different now. Maybe..."

"I'm sorry," I say, struck by new guilt.

He hears it and rubs his hand over mine. "Hey, no. It's not your fault. None of it's your fault, okay? If it's anyone's fault besides Dylan's, it's mine. I should've paid better attention. I should've noticed something wasn't right."

"You were busy," I say. "You did your best."

He shakes his head. "If I did, then my best wasn't good enough." He looks at me and I see a lot of worry in his eyes—more than is warranted by a cast and a few bruises—and I guess I must look pretty pitiable—but when he speaks I realize my physical injuries aren't the main cause of his concern.