“No!” He shouts before wrapping his strong arms around me.  He kicks the knife away and sinks us both to the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry.”  The only words that feel appropriate enough for what I just did.  What I just ruined.  I broke a promise to myself, to Jacoby.  I’ve only had one counseling session so far, and I broke a promise to my counselor, too.

I hardly notice as Trey grabs a towel from the drawer behind us and wraps my arm tight, holding pressure with one hand while he holds onto me with the other.  I don’t have any words to offer him that will express my shame, so I just keep repeating “I’m sorry,” over and over again.  My head rests on his muscled chest, and he strokes my hair until my words become whispered and the sky becomes dark.  Eventually, I drift off to a restless sleep.

I wake up the next morning to harsh bright light from the rising sun, and the loud blaring sound of Jacoby’s alarm on his phone.

Jacoby’s phone!

I frantically hop out of bed, trying to untangle myself from the blankets and wincing in pain when my arm gets wrapped and pulled in the sheet.  I don’t remember going to bed last night, which means Trey probably brought me up here sometime after I drifted to sleep.

Or maybe Jacoby came home and brought me to bed.  Why else would his phone be here.  But then, why isn’t he in bed with me?

Circling the bed, I drop to my knees and find his phone underneath the night table.  That’s an odd place for his phone.  He must have dropped it at some point.  My hope sinks.  If his phone was here all this time, it would explain why he isn’t answering any attempts to contact him.

What was so important he left without his phone?  Is this his way of cutting off all communication with me?

I silence the alarm and sit back on my heels.  My hands shake as I skim through his inbox, seeing several texts from myself and Trey, but that’s it.  Doesn’t he have any other friends here?  My heart breaks a little when I think of how kind and generous he’s been to me.  God, if I can get him back, I’ll repay the favor tenfold.  I’ll make him so happy.  He has Trey, and now he has me.  I just need to find him first.

I open his call list as Trey knocks on the bedroom door, cracking it open as he does.  “What was that sound?” he asks when he sees I’m awake.

“I found Jacoby’s phone.” I show him the device as I move to sit on the bed.  Trey sits down beside me.  Just like his inbox, the call list is short.  However, one name stands out as an incoming call around noon yesterday.  “Who’s Brent?”

Trey studies me.  “Did you two ever talk about your pasts?”

“We did,” I confirm.  “I know about how he grew up, and I know about Harper.  What does this have to do with his past?”

“Brent is Harper’s brother.”

I’m stunned before confusion sets in.  “What does this mean?  Do you think he didn’t leave because of me?”

Trey grabs my hand and holds it between both of his palms.  “I think it’s extremely likely.  The call was incoming, which means Jacoby didn’t call Brent as a means of escape.  My gut says something happened back home, and Jacoby left in a hurry.”

Hope stitches its way into my heart with his words.  Please let everything be okay, I pray.  Not only for whatever made him leave in such a rush but also for us.  Maybe our secret hasn’t been discovered after all.

***

Trey watches me like a hawk.  He forces me to get up and go to school, even though I know Jacoby won’t be there.  He says it’s because he doesn’t want me to get into trouble, but I know what it is.  He’s trying to keep up with normalcy.  He’s trying to keep me from breaking, and he thinks if I’m at school, I can’t hurt myself.  He is right.

But I don’t want to hurt myself.  Last night was a moment of weakness.  Of desperation and pain.  It was the first time since the morning after Jacoby and I first slept together that I had something trigger me.  I knew I’d have slip ups.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy.  I’m just ashamed that Trey was here to witness it.

As I trudge up to the building, everything seems wrong.  The air is too cold, the clouds look like snow, and the students are too loud.  When I enter the building, I’m hit with a blast of dry, recycled air, and it smells funny.  The building looks old, as if I can see every crack in the paint, every chip in the floor.  Everything is the same, but yet, it’s also not.

Because Jacoby isn’t here.

He isn’t here, and it’s like my entire soul can feel it.

I walk past his classroom on my way to French, and there’s some old lady with black hair, wearing a matching red skirt and blazer, standing by the door.  She looks so wrong standing by that door.  She doesn’t belong.  Yet, she smiles kindly as I pass, and I force myself to do the same.

However, the smile drops from my face when I look back down the hall and see Mr. Stephenson waiting outside the French classroom.  My lungs freeze; I’m sure terror is written all over my face, because it’d be a strange coincidence that he’s looking for me the day after Jacoby disappears.

Please, no.

His eyes meet mine.

That’s all that happens before I’m summoned, and my feet carry me to the place where I’ll hear my fate.  Jacoby’s been fired.  He fled the state.  I’m getting kicked out of the post-secondary program.  I can picture it all as I walk into his office and sit in the hard, uncomfortable blue chair.  My hands tremble so I clutch my books tighter to my chest.

“I’m going to cut right to it, Miss Krause.  I had a visitor yesterday who shared with me some…news.  Do you know what I’m talking about?”  His cool gaze pins me to the seat, and I barely mange to shake my head no.

“There are allegations about you having a romantic relationship with Mr. Ryan.”

His sentence steals my breath, and I can’t take it anymore.  I’m going to break.  “It’s not true!  Who told you that?”  I wish he’d reach out and hold my hand, because I’m having difficulty being strong.  This can’t be happening.

“Do you know Wyatt Chasely?”

“It’s not t-true, Mr. Stephenson.  I swear.  Wyatt is, he’s messed up!” I cry.  Tears slip from my eyes and track down my cheeks as I stare into Mr. Stephenson’s open, concerned face.

“He said you left him to start a relationship with Mr. Ryan.  He said he came here to confront you at school back in September, and he caught the two of you.”

“No!” I scream, the sound harsh to my own ears.  “Wyatt c-came here with m-me when I m-missed all that school.  H-he sexually a-assaulted me here and Mr. Ryan s-s-saved me.  Oh, God.”

I break.  I break so completely that I’m pretty sure my heart is lying on the floor.  I cry until my eyes burn, and my throat hurts.  Mr. Stephenson wraps an arm around my shoulders, and then I sob into his shirt.  I break down and tell him my own version of the truth.  I tell him about how I was handling things before school started.  I tell him about my relationship with Wyatt, and how I tried to break it off.  I tell him about missing those days of school, Wyatt messing with my car, the assault, and Mr. Ryan saving me.

What I don’t tell him is that I fell in love with my teacher.  And that I’d give anything in this moment to have him back here with me.

Instead, I tell him we developed a bond, but I lie and say it isn’t romantic.  That it’s based solely on trust.  Somehow, Mr. Stephenson seems to believe me.  And then he says the words that free me from my personal hell.

“I’m glad you were honest with me, Tatum.  I suppose it was lucky Mr. Ryan had an out of town emergency, and I was able to talk to you first.  I have a feeling he wouldn’t have been so quick to betray your trust.  Things might have been a bit trickier then.  I know how much you’ve struggled over the past year, and I’m glad you finally found someone to confide in.”

I dry my tears on my sleeve and breathe deeper.  The worst seems to be over.