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CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
IAN
THREE MONTHS LATER
“I can’t believeyou and Ky didn’t go to prom,” Braden said as we were picking up our yearbooks. “You’re the it couple this year, and you didn’t make an appearance.”
“Oh, my life dream. To be part of anitcouple,” I groaned. “We didn’t go because we’re going to Boston in June. Ky just found out her documentary was accepted to that short film festival she submitted it to. So we need to save up money for the trip.”
Shit. I’d forgotten I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Kyler had wanted to tell him herself.
“Dude! Why didn’t you tell me?!” he exclaimed, giving me a friendly shove in the shoulder. “That’s fucking amazing.”
I grinned. There weren’t words to describe how proud I was of my girl. She’d poured her heart and soul into the documentary she’d made, and she was even thinking about making a longer version and submitting it to bigger festivals like Sundance and Cannes. Hannah and Melissa had agreed to be interviewed too, to bring more awareness to how widespread the issue of dating violence and sexual assault was in high schools, and I had to say, even the fifteen-minute version packed a punch.
“Because she just got the email over the weekend,” I told him. “And she was going to tell you herself. So act surprised. Got it?”
He snorted. “Can do. When are you guys going to Lawrence to look at apartments?”
“Right after graduation. Ky’s dad and his fiancée are coming out here for the ceremony anyway, so they’re coming with us to look at places a couple of days later. Even though I have to technically live on campus for the first year, that’s covered as part of my football scholarship. So I can still contribute to rent and utilities, since I might spend like one night a week in the dorm room.”
He just laughed, wearing a huge grin on his face.
“What?” I chuckled.
“You sound all grown up and shit. Headed off on a trip with your girl, going to college together. It’s like you have your whole life planned out already. Makes me feel like a fuckup.”
“Dude, you arenota fuckup. You’re headed to college with us too. And I’m really looking forward to meeting the girl who ends up tying you down. Plus, that means I get at least a few more years of playing football with you.”
“Nowthat, I’m stoked about. And I’m even more stoked that my roommate’s never going to be in our dorm room. Means I can bring girls back whenever I want.”
“Pretty much. You lucked out,” I teased.
We’d requested each other as roommates, and the college had been nice enough to honor the request.
A familiar set of arms wrapped around my waist, and I turned around. Kyler was wearing her wrist brace today, which told me that she was having a bad pain day. She was still doing some physical therapy to build her strength back up, but it was healing nicely and the scar wasn’t nearly as bad as we all thought it would be at first. And, while she still had a little bit of lingering pain from the damaged nerves and tendons, she was usually able to manage it with just over-the-counter pain medicine now. But she did still have some leftover prescription painkillers, and something told me she’d be taking one tonight. Didn’t surprise me, since we were expecting a huge storm.
The mental effects of what she’d been through, though? Well…she was getting there with Christine’s help, but she still had a long way to go. She still woke up screaming in the middle of the night from nightmares. She still didn’t feel safe goinganywherewithout me or someone else present. She’d probably be on antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication for the rest of her life. And she’d also told me that she had absolutely no desire to ever see her mother again, especially not after her mother didn’t even bother to call her when the news story broke about what happened with Max and Coach Jefferson.
“Hey, baby,” I said, giving her a kiss. “Get your yearbook?”
“Yep,” she chuckled, holding the book that was big enough to be a textbook up. “Why? Want to sign it?”
“Is that even a question?” I took it from her and pulled a pen out of my backpack.
“What’s the point? It’s not like I need it to remember you by.”
“It’s still part of our history. And when we’re older than dirt, we can look at it and smile at the memories.”
“It’ll be a miracle if you can read it anyway,” Braden teased.
“Oh, my God. I know, right?” she laughed. “His handwriting is awful.”
“Wanna be the first one to sign mine, Ky?”
“Sure,” she chuckled as she got a pen out of her purse. “Oh! I didn’t get to tell you! My documentary was accepted to the short film festival in Boston!”
He smiled and gave her a hug. “Congrats. That’s amazing, Ky.”
