Page 33 of Atone

Alex is complicated. Dangerous. Still, I refuse to accept what Marco is saying at face value. If Alex was involved, there must be a reason.

The back of my neck prickles as I walk the quiet hall. The stench of vomit hangs heavy in the air, and when I pass by an open door, I see two orderlies mopping the floor. Behind them, a man rocks back and forth in his chair. With each sway, it knocks the wall, no doubt echoing on the other side.

It’s no wonder Alex’s mind is no clearer now than when he was admitted to Montgomery. Something sick permeates these walls, and it’s not because of the patients. It’s something deeper. Darker. Like the building itself is haunted.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it.

If I had to guess, it’s one of my roommates wondering where I disappeared to. Or Marco trying to convince me to meet up with him.

Right now, none of that matters. I need to see Alex.

An unsettling hum ripples like electricity, and I swear I can taste the metallic tang of blood.

Of open wounds and bleeding truth.

Of change.

When I finally reach Alex’s door, I find it cracked like I usually do. A silent invitation I keep accepting.

“Alex?” His name comes out choked as I peel the door wider.

He’s not in his usual spot, and his bed is made, telling me he hasn’t bothered trying to sleep tonight, even if it’s well past two in the morning.

The usual clutter around his bed has been straightened, and his nightstand is missing the familiar stack of books. At first glance, my stomach sinks thinking he might have left. Until a trickle of steam slithers out from under the bathroom door, stopping me in my tracks. The fog is thick with the scent of shaving cream and cologne.

The scent has my blood thundering between my temples as I pause at the door. To know he’s showering.

Shit, I can’t be thinking about him naked.

The bathroom door swings open before I get the chance to bail, and a heavy cloud of citrus and soap-scented steam envelopes me. It curls out from behind Alex’s broad shoulders, caressing my skin like I wish he would.

Alex slips his T-shirt over his still-damp chest, and I only get a fleeting glance of his scarred muscles before they’re hidden by the fabric.

My gaze moves to his strong hands tugging the hem of his shirt. To the gray sweats that hang low on his hips. And when my eyes snap back to his, my cheeks burn.

Alex’s expression is a blank slate as always. Completely stoic and unsurprised.

While my mind reels with Marco’s words.“You think your new boyfriend is better than me?”

Alex definitely isn’t my boyfriend. He barely looks at me with a hint of interest. But god, do I wish he would right now.

“Sorry, it’s late.” I take a step back, suddenly very aware of how close we’re standing and how good he smells. “I just came to check on you.”

I wonder if he’s perceptive enough to see I’m lying. If so, he doesn’t let it show. He barely blinks as his hazel eyes watch me. Unlike his sister, whose nose and lips are almost pixie-like, Alex’s lips are full, and the ridges of his eyebrows are strong. Nothing about him is gentle or soft.

“Patience said you didn’t let her see you this morning, so she was worried.”

That part is true.

Patience stormed around the dorm room all afternoon complaining about it.

“It seems you’re fine though. Sorry for interrupting you.” I take another step back, but this time, he mirrors me with a step closer.

I crane my neck to meet his stare. I’m not short, but his height forces my neck to stretch.

“Not everyone is who you think they are.”Marco’s warning echoes.

“Patience isn’t why I really came,” I admit, swallowing hard.