Don't Leave Me Here Alone

Chapter Ten

March

Adam practically fell in the door, exhausted. He slumped down onto his bed, face first, and groaned into the pillow. It had been an impossibly long day. Longer than any he could remember, and several came to mind. His shoulders and back were tight with tension. Everything ached. He was overwhelmed with simultaneous relief and tiredness. He was finally safe. He was legally protected.

He'd gotten everything he'd needed out of the court case against his father.

Robert Parrish was not in prison for his crimes, only kept far away from Adam by a legal restraining order. But that was enough. Adam didn't need his father to go to jail. He merely needed guaranteed, permanent safety. He'd needed someone outside the situation to look in on it and confirm that: yes, a crime had been committed. Adam had not invented it, spurred it, or deserved it.

It said so on the paperwork. Robert Parrish, guilty. Adam Parrish, free.

Tears clawed at his eyes. The knot of his tie dug into his throat and his collar was too tight. With a huff, he shifted onto his back. He pulled open his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. Then he wiped his damp eyes with the back of his hands.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He dug it out.

"Hey," he answered, his voice strained.

Shawn was uncharacteristically serious when he asked, "How'd it go?"

"It was alright. The lawyer was great. He had evidence I didn't know existed... And records all the way back to when I was a toddler." Adam huffed out a sigh to hide the tremble in his voice. "I didn't even know they went so far back."

"I'm sorry, Adam."

He shrugged even though Shawn couldn't see it. "Thanks for loaning me your family's lawyer. A public defender wouldn't have done nearly as well."

"You trusted me to help you. You don't have to thank me." He heard Shawn shut a door and the sound of his footsteps. "Are you going to tell them? Gansey and Dorian? Ivy?"

"Not until I tell Zachariah. He deserves the truth, first. I hurt him the most." He played with a loose thread on the sleeve of his crisp, white shirt. The phone rested between his ear and shoulder. "I mean. If he'll talk to me. If I ever get the chance. It's been over a year, though. He might not even care, anymore."

The doubt had been plaguing him ever since he'd tried to call Zachariah and the line had gone dead. Even before that, since he'd decided to get better. And then again, more recently, with the restraining order. Telling Zachariah was the next step in healing. At least, that was what he and his therapist had decided. He would never be able to forgive himself until he told the truth. Zachariah didn't have to forgive Adam; that was his decision to make. But Adam needed to let go of the guilt.

Shawn sighed. "You know that's not true."

"I don't know anything. Not anymore."

Shawn laughed, loud and carefree. "Adam, you're smarter than that." Despite the laughter, there was only kindness in his voice. "You know how he felt about you—feels about you. I'm not going to lie and say you didn't break his heart. But I don't think it's hopeless. Not if you mean it. Not if you're sure."

"I've always been sure about Zachariah. It was everything else that got all messed up."

The walls of his dorm were made out of concrete and painted beige. It was depressing and cold. He ran his fingers along the surface of the one nearest him and wished he could go back to the Farmhouse he'd picked out with Zachariah. He missed it with a hollow ache. The trees. The green front door. The tiny garage where they could put Zachariah's excessive Mercedes Benz. His endearingly dickish cat that he'd named Goblin. The guest bedroom that might've eventually become a child's bedroom if Adam hadn't spectacularly messed things up.