I swallow as guilt pinches my stomach. What would Ethan say if he knew the real reason Brandon blew up? That I’d gone against my promise and met him for coffee when he discovered the bruising on my arms?
“Yeah,” I lie, and hating myself for it, because I only have myself to blame for what happened. “But I wouldn’t say he’s unstable, exactly.”
“If this isn’t unstable, then what is?” he snaps, and I flinch.
With a sigh, he brings his hands to his forehead and massages his temples. “I’m sorry. You know what? Forget it. I know this is hard on you, too. You’ve been friends a long time, and you’re not responsible for his actions. I’m just frustrated because I’m worried about you being on campus with him when there’s nothing I can do to protect you.”
“Brandon would never hurt me,” I say, thinking how odd it is that I said this exact thing to Brandon about Ethan just days ago.
“That’s what you say now, but . . . I just want to make sure you’re safe. You’re avoiding him, right? Not talking to him?”
I nod, biting my lip. It’s not a total lie. I haven’t spoken to him since Wednesday afternoon when I met him for coffee and he flew off the handle.
“Good.”
“Has hebeen texting you?”
“A little,” I say, thinking of the dozens of unanswered calls and messages.
“Let me see.” He opens his hand, glancing down at his palm expectantly, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s waiting for my phone.
With a lump in my throat, I pull it out, handing it over while my stomach churns. Will he scroll far enough through my calls to see the one I accepted on Wednesday before we met up?
Ethan takes my phone, and I fight to keep my breathing even as he types in the passcode I gave him. His thumb scrolls methodically through message after message, his expression hardening as he scans Brandon’s increasingly desperate texts.
Each one of them is seared in my brain.
I need to talk to you.
Please just call me back.
Tatum, I swear I didn’t mean to make things worse.
Are you okay?
I’m sure you heard what happened. Just so you know, I don’t regret it.
That last one hurts the most because I know from the girls and the gossip around campus, he got a three-game suspension. Though Ethan declined charges, he ensured the football program and Coach Greene were informed of Brandon’s indiscretion.
With each flick of his thumb, the muscle in Ethan’s jaw tightens. His eyes narrow to slits, darkening dangerously before he hands it back to me. And I barely have time to register my reliefwhen he says, “The guy just doesn’t know when to quit, does he? Block him.”
“What?”
“Block him. It’ll be a relief, trust me.”
I stare at my phone, frozen in place as Ethan’s words hang between us.Block him.Two simple words that feel like the heaviest command I’ve ever been given.
My stomach knots as I pull up Brandon’s contact information. The photo I’d taken of him last summer stares back at me—his eyes crinkled at the corners, the lopsided grin that’s been a constant in my life for years.
My thumb hovers over the block button, trembling slightly. “I don’t know if I can,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Ethan sighs heavily, wincing as if the movement disturbed his broken nose. “Tatum, he assaulted me. He’s sending you obsessive messages. This isn’t healthy.”
Ten years of friendship. Thousands of inside jokes. Every major milestone of my life with him right beside me. And now I’m supposed to just . . . erase him?
My chest tightens painfully as I scroll through our message history one last time. Birthday wishes. Late-night study encouragement. Photos of ridiculous things that made him think of me. The thread of our lives woven together in digital form.
A wave of nausea rolls through me as I navigate to the block button. How did we get here? A few weeks ago, everything was normal. Brandon was just my best friend, Ethan was justmy boyfriend, and my world made sense. Now I’m sitting here about to cut Brandon out of my life completely.
