THE RAMADA INN WAS DESERTED, a sharp contrast to the usual excited horde of tourists it attracted. Either already at the Magic Kingdom or riding the death traps at Knott's Berry Farm, the lobby felt eerily quiet for a hotel that had been bustling with life just a few hours before.

Even more disconcerting, a few stray reporters gathered outside the doorway to conference room B. Their voices buzzed like angry bees, each trying to be louder and more authoritative than his peers. I ducked past them and into the room, my palms slick with nervous sweat.

The hum of the air conditioner blended with the low murmuring of conversations in the dimly lit room. Grey carpets lined the floor, while the walls were painted an unappetizing shade of green, bearing framed photos of various stages in the inn's evolution. A dozen or so reporters scattered around, some standing, some sitting. Uncomfortable-looking metal chairs made up most of the furniture.

A media screen fixed to the wall allowed for virtual meetings, but now it displayed the logo of Parker Realtors.

Only one thing left to do: confirm the rumor about me was true. Because, after all, it was. The wind outside had picked up, sending the once static palms thrashing. This forced even more people to cram inside the room.

As most reporters sat, one paused before doing so. I'm sure I'd clocked this guy's face before, but then awareness dawned on me. This balding guy took the kill-shot photo of Alex and me on the picket line. Doing my best to ignore him and a room full of eyes was beyond difficult.

In a few moments, my father would have final confirmation that I was and always will be just a fuck up. This was about more than him now; the risk outweighed the impact Rafael had been living with. It wouldn't solve everything, but it was the right moral place to start. My goals had shifted. Never could I disappoint Alex more than I already had done. This was now the least I could offer as consolation.

Dad was due to present with the developers. The pristine white tablecloth on the podium would be my unwilling confessional alter. The conference would start in twenty minutes' time, or so they thought, as I strode up each step towards the central seat and took the front and center spot. I took a deep breath and leaned closer to the microphone.

"Good morning, everyone," I said, my voice steady despite the rising tension in the room. "I know that many of you came here to hear from my father today, given his long-standing support for the redevelopment of Hanging Hills that Parker Realtors has been pushing for..." I paused mid-sentence as the flash of multiple cameras synced at once.

Steadying the rattle in my hands, I tried again. "But the truth is, I have another announcement to make. It has come to my attention that a miscarriage of justice has taken place."

There was a collective gasp from the reporters, and I could feel their eyes boring into me. But I didn't waver. Instead, I tried to continue until one reporter cut me off. "What do you know about the retirement home that is to be demolished?"

"What you're doing is unforgivable," shouted another, the words coming from the balding guy. I knew I didn't like him. Now there were two reasons. Turning to the volatile crowd that was heckling, I went to speak again before another jumped in.

"Is your father willing to build a new development for them in its place?"

"How has the reaction from the local community affected your rebranding as a family-friendly corporation?"

I met their gazes head-on, yet my confidence now wavered drastically, but I pushed on, determined to make my case. "Family-friendly? My father doesn't know that I'm here."

A hushed silence fell over the room; all I could feel was the artery pumping frantically in my neck. In a final act of final defiance, I balled the pre-written statement in my hand because my message needed to come from the heart, not structured words that lacked any.

"The fact is, a year ago, Mr. Rafael Benitez was sued by Parker Realtors." There was a sudden commotion at the back of the room. A gust of wind whipped up pamphlets left on the side of the double doors as Alex, Flock, and his father burst into the room. Among the tops of multiple heads, I could only see snippets of their faces in the crowd, except for Rafael, who stood taller. He shot me a look that told me to be quiet, but that wasn't going to happen, and I was so glad he would be here to hear this.

I opened my mouth to speak again before a fourth person entered the room dressed in the same cheap suit I had seen him out in this morning. Not unsurprisingly, Dean Parker had arrived for his own press conference. For a moment, the look on his face almost shattered my resolve to proceed.

It's now or never. "Rafael was an accountant at Parker Realtors and was accused of pot smoking while on the job. I am sure you are all aware in a town this size, the legal battle that ensued—"

"Mr. Benitez settled out of court," two reporters said in unison.

"I know, but—." Scanning the room to pinpoint the origin of the voice was pointless. Everyone now looked on.

"Are you saying he was illegally fired?"

"No, it's different. Please, don't misquote me on that." My pleas fell on ignorant ears because they were already scribbling.

Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead at the thought of my next words as they hung in the balance. I stood to lose everything. Dad might never look at me again, but to be honest, he rarely did since she'd gone. Would he be angry with Rafael? What would he do about it that he hadn't done to him already if he were?

"But what you don't know is that Rafael was covering for me..."

The room erupted in a flurry of activity. Reporters scribbled furiously on their notepads, and camera shutters clicked faster than ever before. The balding guy who took the photo of Alex and me leaned forward, his eyes bright with excitement, but I refused to tear mine away from my father. I wished he could hear me privately.

Please forgive me for everything.

"It will come as no surprise the tragedy my family has endured since the passing of my mother, Nadine Parker." I stopped, trying not to choke on her name. "The impact on Mr. Benitez's family has been just as hard. Because of our misfortune, Mr. Benitez has been more of a father to me when my own was so very deep in his own grief, to the point he would not allow my coping mechanisms to destroy my future. He just never banked that it would have the reverse effect on him."

My father and Rafael stood like obelisks at either end of the room.

"The toll my actions have taken on those around me is impossible to put into words. But if I don't try, I will never be able to convey how truly sorry I am."

I looked at Rafael head-on. "I owe you more than an apology, and I owe you my gratitude for being an adult in my life who never oversteered, never gave up. Your constant presence, however invisible to me, I know now, came at the most fragile moments of my life and can only be a testament to the human being you are and the one you would go on to raise."

My eyes cut to Alex. "I understand that some wounds are too deep to stem the bleeding, but I'm not sorry that I met you, which is unbelievably selfish of me to admit, even now."

I turned to my father. "You are not a shitty parent. No one could have prepared us for living without her. Some holes are heart-shaped for a reason. But without you talking to me, that hole keeps getting bigger. So, Dad, I owe you an apology. But you owe Rafael one more."

The look on my father's face was hard to read. I'm unsure if I'll ever know what hurt him the most at this moment—was it watching me or what my words were causing his heart? Everything I had publicly aired suddenly felt claustrophobically private. The urge to be alone with these thoughts became overbearing.

"That's it. That's all I came here to say."

A thousand voices barked a sudden barrage of questions at me. Dad was through the crowd in seconds, moving at speed toward me.

I stood quickly, tipping the chair over, and retreated from the microphone. I turned for the podium's edge, taking two steps at a time. The reporters sat up straighter, their eyes following my every move and their cameras clicking furiously as they captured every moment of my exit.

Before I hit the last, my eyes caught Alex's through a gap in the crowd. Just seeing him was almost enough to stem my own bleeding. His hand cupped above his narrowed eyes as he scanned the room. That's when I saw it.

A fresh tattoo of a blackbird adorned Alex's thumb knuckle. It would have been cute if it didn't match Derek's forearm and Tyson's eye sore. It was symbolic. The meaning was as clear as the scowl on his face the night before—Alex had chosen sides. Derek had recruited their newest member, and the anti-Parker fan club would be thrilled.

I shook my head, wanting to erase it from my mind, heading for the exit. It would be easier if I were just what people deemed me to be. That way, I would never have to see the disappointment in their eyes ever again. There was only one place left to go now, and I braced myself for the long walk there.

Hanging Hills seemed a suitable metaphor for what I had just done. After an hour of walking, I scoured the ground, selecting the most formidable rock I could. My fingers clenched around it as I launched it at the billboard smashing a near-perfect circle through my laminate-coated forehead.

In the darkness of moments like these comes extreme clarity. I thought about that sixth sense people speak of, knowing you're in the right place at the right time, fate taking the reins. Today was a lot like that.

There was no deep satisfaction about what I had done, however. Sure, I had redeemed one family, but I'd stripped another of a relationship that may have been salvageable upon second thoughts.

The odds of all of us winning in the end no longer mattered, as there had only ever been one way forward once I learned the truth. One person knew in my heart what I'd tried to steer or correct, and I hope she wasn't disappointed.

The haze was lifting to reveal an expanse of desert stars; the air's shifting coolness only invigorated me further. The relentless heat of the day had finally begun to ease, and a faint chill had descended upon me, carrying with it a strange sense of anticipation.

Whatever happened next happened. With this realization, the crushing weight in my chest lifted a little more. Maybe I had changed. Perhaps I would have changed enough to be with a boy like Alex in another world, another life. Real change felt like hope, and for the first time, aside from everyone else, my will was more robust than ever.

A coyote skulked behind me, foraging for any scraps. It picked up something in its mouth until it froze, re-checked its bearings, and suddenly scuttled away. I turned in a circle, curious as to what had startled it more than I did, when the sound of a car door closing caught my attention also. It would have been silly to think that Alex had come after me. Hope would be a better word. The image of that tattoo would stay emblazoned in my mind into old age. Alex was neither coming to my side any more than my father. But who was it?

I heard a click, click. It broke free of the melodic hum of distant traffic on the freeway. I followed the sound across the desert, back to the road, to where Tyson's cigarette ember glowed. Even at dusk, it wasn't yet dark enough to miss the predatory smile on Derek's face at his side. He took a swig from a bottle I couldn't make out.

"Nah, Derek. I'm not fighting you back this time. It's a lost cause. But, if it helps, I'm sorry I made you more attractive now that half of your face is covered. Come at me with anything you've got. I don't care anymore. I've singlehandedly lost everything I held dear, but you know what? For the first time, I feel okay about that because, for once, I did the right thing at the right time."

They moved at a pace unfamiliar with the usual surprise charges I had come to expect until they both stood in front of me. With no crude jokes or words, Derek dropped a bottle of whiskey which shattered on the ground. Shards flew in all directions. The splattered contents sprayed everything in the vicinity. Derek stared at me with a face full of determination, his action deliberate and intentional.

I turned away; whether he would charge at me now or not didn't matter. Tonight, I would sleep out under the desert stars with my consciousness as clear as it would ever be. Rafael was exonerated, and Alex had his narrative back. As I stepped into the cabin, I looked back one last time at them.

Derek nodded once, but not at me, sending a chill down my spine. My gaze narrowed as Tyson carelessly pinched and flicked his cigarette, igniting the parched desert air around us. I lunged backward, feeling the heat of the flames on my face as Derek slammed the cabin door shut. I took three further steps back as a wall of fire shot up. Flames licked up the walls forming a canopy over my head.

What a goddamn asshole.