Garrett
I wish I could say I’m a good man, and that I stand behind all the decisions I’ve made, but lately, it’s been getting hard to look myself in the mirror.
“She’s going to hate me,” I say, my phone trembling in my hand.
“She’ll hate me equally,” Irene replies.
“They’ll all hate me. Hank, Norma, Jake—”
“Prim already hates you,” Irene interjects.
“Gee, thanks.”
I reread the headline that’s now heading the Chatter Entertainment website.
Ali Kat Carter’s Ex-Lover Tells All
There’s a picture of me smirking in my high school football jersey below the headline, arms crossed over my chest, looking cocky as hell.
“Why’d they have to use that headline?”
“It’s clickbait.”
“I just feel sick looking at it.”
“Then don’t look at it.”
“Well, I can’t not look at it.” I scroll down the article. “Oh my God—have you seen the comments? People are saying I’m some type of love ‘em and leave ‘em player type! Where do they get this stuff?”
“Calm down, we’ll set them straight soon enough.”
“Well, I wanna set them straight now!”
“Garrett—you can’t! We’re trying to do what’s right. The only way Chatter would return to Nebraska is if you have something juicy.”
“It just feels like such a betrayal.”
“It’s the right thing to do. Trust me.”
“I just hope we don’t do more harm than good.”
Irene exhales sharply. “Me too.”
