Chapter 29

Afterward, he wished he hadn’t bothered.

Somehow, Kenny’s father had managed to bribe everyone into not pressing charges by offering them a large monetary settlement. Elliot blinked like an owl when he was told that all the other parents had happily agreed. He had no idea how much money Daryl Coleman had to dish out for them to go from the screaming hyenas who had demanded Kenny’s head on a platter a week ago, to smiling, back-patting dummies.

He tried to object, saying Kenny wouldn’t learn if they let him off without consequences. Did they really want to teach him money could buy his way out of anything? But Kenny’s father smiled—the same creepy smile as his son—and doubled his initial offer.

When Elliot protested, saying the money wasn’t the issue, the principal took him to the side

“Think of the school’s reputation,” Mr. Billings hissed between clenched teeth.

“But—”

“Mr. Dunn!”

“What happened to zero tolerance for violence? About teaching the students right from wrong?”

“Mr. Dunn, this is not a request. Accept the offer.”

Elliot stared at the principal. Did he hear what he thought he heard?

“I also suggest you take the rest of the school year off. Reflect on your attitude.”

“What?” Elliot croaked out.

“I trust your thinking will be more in line with the school’s when you return in the fall, or I’m sure we can easily find a replacement for you.”

Elliot stared at his feet, opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. So he closed it again and nodded. He slumped down in his chair, and, with a shaking hand, he signed the contract.

He was lightheaded as he exited the school, and he had to stop and take a few breaths before he could continue. What had just happened? Had he been forced to accept enough money to sit on his ass the rest of his life? Had the principal really threatened to fire him?

With arms folded over his stomach, Elliot walked away with a feeling that someone had taken all his beliefs and principles and stomped on them.

And that he had let them.

He spent the rest of the afternoon pacing his living room with Lady Gaga blasting from the speakers. He heard his phone ring at some point, but ignored it and kept pacing, rubbing his palms on his head, tousling his short hair. The phone rang several more times, but Elliot walked and walked, until the front door flung open and a wild-eyed Mick stood there, glaring at him.

Mick’s gaze roved over him, making sure he was okay, and then he marched over to the stereo and cut off Gaga in the middle of a rah-rah.

“What the hell, Elliot?”

The curse stopped Elliot’s pacing, and he stared at his lover with wide eyes. His well-spoken, hot-shot lawyer partner neverused profanities. During their time together, Elliot had heard Mick swear maybe once or twice, and him doing it now knocked the wind out of Elliot’s fury. He groaned, grabbed his lover’s hand, and hauled him over to the couch where he sank down, pulling Mick with him.

“I’m sorry. But I’m angry.”

“I can tell. What happened?”

“I let them buy me, that’s what happened.” Elliot spat out the words.

“What?”

The question was so loud, Elliot flinched. Mick sighed, stood, and shook off his coat. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and kicked off his shoes. Then he sat back down, turned to Elliot, and wrinkled his nose when he saw the state of Elliot’s hair.

“It looks like you’ve tried to pull it out,” he muttered. He ran his fingers through Elliot’s locks, trying in vain to tame it. “Tell me what happened.”

When Elliot recounted the afternoon’s events, Mick grabbed his hands and drew him closer, and Elliot followed willingly. He ended up straddling Mick’s lap, arms around Mick’s neck, and his forehead leaning on his lover’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Mick rubbed his stubble against Elliot’s temple.

“I shouldn’t have taken the money.” Elliot grunted. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You had no other choice.”

“There’s always another choice.”

“What else could you have done?”

“I could have told them to go fuck themselves,” he gritted out. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Or I could quit.”

It was several minutes before Mick asked, “And do what?”

Elliot held his breath for a moment before whispering, “I could go back home.” Mick stiffened. “I hate it here.”

“I know.”

The thickness of Mick’s voice hit Elliot like a freight train, but he didn’t take back his words. He couldn’t.

“I have to go home. At least for a while. I need silence.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth to stop it from quivering. “This was the last drop, you know?”

Mick nodded and tightened his arms around Elliot until they felt like bands of steel surrounding him. “What about us?”

“I don’t know.” Elliot hesitated. “You could come,” he whispered, knowing what the answer would be.