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“Either way…”
He drops his head back, groaning.
Once again, my phone starts to ring. I peek down and see Kenna’s name again. She called me earlier, too. I wanted to answer. I really did. I wanted to so badly it hurt, but I’m doing this for her.
While I’m staring longingly at the screen, Aidan snatches it up. He’s quick, but I’m bigger. I grab hold of his hand, and we wrestle over the phone for a second. “The fuck,” I growl.
Somehow, he eventually gets his thumb on the screen to swipe, and I let go like it’s a hot poker. I turn, running my hands through my hair and silently groan into the abyss. Is this what Kenna’s tattoo means? Dive into the abyss. That I should do something, even if it’s unknown?
“Hey,” Aidan says. Then a second later, “No, it’s Aidan. But West is right here.”
He taps me on the shoulder, and I glare at him, holding my hand out. He places the phone in my palm, and I close my eyes before bringing it to my ear.
“West?”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. She sounds upset. “Yeah?”
She takes in a shaky breath. “Did you… Did the football team… Did they put up the footage from Richie’s yesterday?”
“The footage?”
“Is that why you’re avoiding me?” Her voice raises. “It’s all over Instagram right now. I’m tagged in it, West. It says a football player provided the footage.”
“I— I don’t…”
The phone makes a noise, and then Kenna comes back on, even more frantic. “Now I’m getting a call from Channel Eight. They’re calling me, West.”
I just stand there with my mouth opening and closing, no words coming out. I reach for Aidan’s phone, yanking it from his grip before I go to his socials and look it up. Sure enough, the same footage Coach showed me earlier that no one had picked up yet is now being broadcast far and wide. Except, the headlines are friendlier to me now.
“NFL Prospect’s Dad Demeans Son’s Girlfriend”
“Could We Have Had It All Wrong? Brooks Showing True Character”
The audio starts to play, and the sound has been enhanced. Anyone can clearly hear my dad say all those hateful things to Kenna.
“I’m sorry. I don’t—”
“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to see how you were all day. I’ve been worried. I called, I texted, and now I see that the football team has released this…this fucking bullshit from yesterday. But I can see why you did. I guess everything will blow over now, huh? Well, that’s great. I’m really happy for you.”
The phone clicks, and I can’t breathe. There’s nothing but dead air on the other side of the line.
Aidan scans my face and then his phone in my hand. “Shit…”
“It’s, um… I don’t think she wants to talk to me now.”
“Does she think you did it?”
“Does it matter?” I counter. I release a breath. My heart hurts. I knew this was for the best, but it sucks. It sucks so fucking bad.
I retreat from Aidan and sit back down on my bed. I type and retype a response to Kenna, not even sure what to say. I end up deleting my words over a dozen times. In the end, I end up sending:
WestB: I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt. Especially not from anything that has to do with me. I won’t contact you anymore. It’s for the best.
I feel empty when I hit Send. I don’t give excuses, though. I refuse. There’s no excuse for what’s happened to her twice now, and I feel responsible for both. Sure, I didn’t throw the firework into her room, and I didn’t say any of those disgusting words to her, but I was involved both times.
It was stupid thinking that I could turn this into something different.
McKenna: So, that’s it, then? No explanations, we’re just done?