I reach out and squeeze her arm one more time. She covers my hand with hers. Her gaze is soft and warm again when she looks at me, and she takes a deep breath. For a moment, staring at her, we’re that same couple we were in high school—like I’m dropping her off after a dance, just having kissed her goodbye. She’s so very much a part of me. And yet, what we are to one another is so different now. It’s important all the same.
“You love her?” she asks, and at first, I’m nervous by her question. Not because of what she’s asking, but because of everything that she’s just been through. Because it doesn’t feel fair for me to love someone when she’s hurting like this. But the longer I look at her, the longer I think, the calmer I become. The more sure I am…sure of everything. The more I see in her eyes that she wants something for me—something more than I’ve been giving myself.
“Yeah, I love her,” I say, allowing myself to be happy and smile cautiously in front of my heartbroken best friend. She wouldn’t want me to be fake.
“Good,” she says, and I know she means it. Her smile looks sad, but only for her own loss. “You should let her know that.”
“I’m working on that. I’m not very good at…you know…sayin’ mushy shit?” Her laugh is fast and raspy, and she looks to the side while she shakes her head and leans back from the van, her hands gripping the window frame.
“Ty,” she sighs, coming back to me and placing both hands flat along the door panel, patting them down once for emphasis. “You are especially good at the mushy shit.”
Her hands slip from the window, and she backs away, giving me one wink.
“Call me, Kel. For anything. I mean it,” I say, and she holds up a hand to wave goodbye before pulling her arms in to hug her body. She doesn’t break stride, doesn’t pause at the door, doesn’t let any of it show in front of her family. She walks back inside to pretend everything’s fine for a few more hours, for today.
She’s so strong.
She’ll be okay.
I convince myself she’ll be okay.
Chapter 25
Cass
The news was spreading all over the campus news sites when we got back to school.
ASSOCIATE FACULTY MEMBER FILES LAWSUIT AGAINST SCHOOL FOR WRONGFUL TERMINATION
I read the story a thousand times. No mention of my name. No mention of his assault either. A few quotes from school administrators, talking points that only circle the story, but never really saying anything. The closest anyone gets to the truth is when one faculty member uses the word accusations. Yes, someone made an accusation—based on an assault. Student reporters don’t dig as deeply as they should. A little legwork would have turned up my police report. But they only worked off of the tip they received, probably from Cotterman’s lawyer. A bigger city, a bigger state—the more the media attention would be. It’s big enough for me as it is.
The plane ride here was just as quiet as the one going. And Paige didn’t try to fix things when we got to campus. She has a big formal to attend, the fruits of her planning. She’s distracting herself with that. And I’m glad.
In the meantime, I’ve come back to a lonely dorm room. Rowe left Nate and Ty’s parents’ house in the middle of the holiday. Her ex-boyfriend—the one who was barely living on life-support—died. Nate’s not talking about it at all, and he’s been completely closed off, spending most of his time at practice and alone with Ty. Ty told me it didn’t go well, that Rowe is extremely upset. I guess Nate knew about it before she did; somehow her parents told Nate first, asking him to keep it a secret until she was done with finals.
They meant well. That’s what everyone keeps saying.
They meant well.
Everyone means well—making decisions for you, taking things out of your control. But meaning well doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.
I text my friend again, hoping she’ll say she’s coming back, that she isn’t leaving me here alone. I need her. But she doesn’t write back. She’s gone dark. And with two weeks left including finals, I worry that I may never see her again.
“You skipped!” Ty says, busting through my door with a pizza on his lap. I skipped my workout session with him this afternoon, not really feeling the energy.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m feeling a little zapped today,” I say, not really sure if it’s my body, the stress, or my spirit. Maybe it’s all three.
“Hmmmm, okay, you get one pass. But the next time you lose a whole letter grade,” he says, flipping open the box and pulling a slice out on a napkin. The smell is glorious, and for the first time in days, I think I’m hungry.