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You and Everything After(80)



His mouth is slightly open, and he’s still looking at me, just not at my eyes—like he’s taking me in, but not completely. He’s lost in his thoughts, no doubt reconstructing this scene in his own mind. I wait while he thinks, and then finally his eyes shift to me.

“I’ll kill him,” he says, his mouth open just enough to show the pressure of his teeth gnashing together. And I believe if Paul Cotterman were to stand in front of Tyson Preeter right now, he would die. And Ty would gladly take the punishment just to see the deed done. I lean forward and kiss his cheek, the tenseness in his muscles unrelenting.

“As much as I would love to see Paul Cotterman run into you in some dark alley, that wouldn’t even come close to solving my problems,” I say, and his mouth relaxes a small fraction with his breath, his eyes soft on mine.

“This is why your parents are upset, isn’t it?”

Ty is so smart.

“They’re referring to it as the Paul Cotterman issue,” I say, a breathy laugh punctuating the end. “I’m pretty sure they think it’s like what happened with Kyle. I don’t think they believe things happened as I say they did. There aren’t really any witnesses. My dad made sure he resigned.”

“That’s good,” Ty says, not waiting for the rest.

“Yeah, that was good. But it seems Cotterman is thinking of fighting it. And like I said…there really isn’t any proof. I could easily just be a student trying to get out of a bad grade.”

“Faking an assault is a pretty steep move just to avoid getting a bad grade,” Ty says.

“Yeah, but I hit him, Ty. I’m the assaulter!”

“No, you’re not,” he says, his hands quick to my face to force me to look at him. “No you’re not. You’re the victim. And you had every right to fuck that asshole’s face up.”

Without warning, my face grows weak, and the tears slide from my eyes. “Fuck,” I swear, stuffing my face into Ty’s chest, rubbing my puffy eyes against his shirt. “I hate crying.”

“Yeah, well, I hate snot on my T-shirts, but what are you going to do,” he says, and I laugh hard and long. He squeezes me and just lets me feel. He lets me feel bad, let’s me laugh at his stupid joke, and then let’s me just sit here and think about how angry I am at everyone and everything—everything, but him.

“That Chandra chick is a bitch,” I say, finally.

“Yep,” he says, his chin on my forehead.

I don’t say the next part. That’s what hurts me the most. That’s what made me cry. Someone told Chandra about Paul Cotterman—and I’m pretty sure it was Paige.





Chapter 23



Ty



“Dude, you need to spend more nights with Cass. You’re a pain in the ass to sleep in the same room with lately,” Nate says. It was another night of tossing and turning, and my pain has been spiking more than normal lately. Fucking up a spinal cord does a number on the nerves, and they let me know when they’re pissed off. Mine are really pissed off. But I don’t like taking meds. Meds can sometimes lead to dependence and depression, and that shit ain’t happening to me.

“Sorry man. Cass has had a busy couple of weeks, and finals are coming up. I’ve been putting in a lot of reading time,” I say. I’m pretty sure I just fed Nate a bunch of excuses.

Cass has been busy working her ass off with soccer. She hasn’t talked to her parents in weeks, and she’s not really speaking to Paige either. I talked her into filing a police report on Paul Cotterman, and it took me days to convince her it was the right thing to do. She kept saying that it would ruin her dad’s plans, but I told her that her dad’s plans sound like bullshit. If this dude ends up fighting to get his job back, then there needs to be a paper trail that lays out what a douche he is.

All of the drama has gotten in the way of easy though. I miss easy. I miss that moment—her on my lap at the Halloween party, before Chandra set off a row of dominoes that tipped over every ray of sunshine in Cass’s life, replacing it with a cloud. I don’t know how to make her sun shine through again. The power doesn’t rest with me, and the small places where it does, I just mess it up.

“Hey, thanks for inviting Rowe to Thanksgiving by the way. That didn’t hurt Cass’s feelings or anything,” I say, throwing my rolled up dirty socks at my brother.

“First of all, fuck you very much. Second of all, you like Rowe. She needed a place to go, and I want her with me. If it’s such a big deal, then suck it up and invite Cass,” he says, throwing my dirty laundry back in my lap.