How dare he? Until he calms down, I refuse to listen to him. I fall back on the mattress, rolling onto my side and cry.
I don’t know how many tears I’ve shed until I feel the mattress dip as someone sits down beside me. My eyes pop open, and I see it’s my mom. Her warm eyes gaze down at me as she pushes the hair from my face.
“Don’t cry, Baby. This will pass.” She speaks, making sure I can read her lips clearly as she continues to rub her hand across my head. There’s a flash of irritation in her eyes she is trying (and failing) to hide.
I sit up slowly, lifting the hem of my nightshirt to wipe my face.
Benton,I sign, but she puts her hands over mine, lowering them with a firm shake of her head.
“Your brother is being an idiot,” she says, and her brows pinch together, the muscle in her cheek ticking. “He lets his anger get to him, and you are his baby sister. He is protective of you.”
His words were so mean.
I pick up my phone, showing her the messages.
He’s so mad at me.
Her lips press into a thin line, nostrils flaring before she forces a calmer expression for my sake. “And he’ll get over it. His life is not yours, and he needs to learn that. But I’m not here because of him.” Her eyes soften again as she signs along with her words. “I’m here for you. Are you okay?”
It was our first date, Mom, and now it’s just ruined. People are writing such cruel things about me.
“And they’re lies,” she signs immediately. “You know that. Your friends and family know that. And your young man does as well.” Her hand curls protectively over mine. “Don’t give those comments your time. Live your life and be happy. Don’t let them or anyone else ruin something that mattered to you.”
I throw my arms around her, holding her tightly. This is what I needed. Moms always seem to know.
“Now, dry those tears. And come downstairs and have some breakfast with me. I’ve ordered us something, and it should be delivered any minute. Then we can find a movie to watch. And don’t worry about your brother. I’ll handle him.” She standsfrom the bed and crosses the room and turns back to me. “Just remember, Bayleigh, it’s just like Taylor says, ‘haters gonna hate’.” With those final words, she opens the door and steps out of my room, leaving me to absorb what she said.
My phone vibrates again, and I see more messages from Benton. But then I see one I do want to read.
Lincoln: I’ve seen the tabloid posts. Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect that to happen.
I almost don’t answer because I don’t want to lie to him. I’m not okay. Not at the moment anyway. My world’s been turned upside down over one perfect night and one stupid photo. My brother is pissed, and I'm being made out to be a villain.
Lincoln: Talk to me, Baby. I need to know how you’re doing. Good. Bad. I don’t care.
Lincoln: Do you regret going on a date with me?
My fingers scroll through our thread, landing on the video of him signing to me. Our conversations. And a calm overtakes me.
I will not let them win. I’ve done nothing wrong.
Me: No. I don’t have a single regret.
Lincoln: Is Benton giving you grief? If he is, I can come over. You’re not going through this alone. You’re my girl.
Me: He’s not here, but he’s been texting nonstop. He's pissed, but my mom said she’s going to handle him.
I see the text bubbles dance up and down, then stop. Then they start again before a message comes through.
Lincoln: I’m coming over. I’m not going to let him be pissed at you or treat you any way but like a queen.
Me: No. It’s okay. He’ll calm down, or face our mother’s wrath. I’m going to have breakfast with Mom, watch a movie and try not to go online to see anymore of the hate.
Lincoln: Everything they’re saying is bullshit. Don’t listen to it. We’ve done nothing wrong.
Lincoln: Please don’t give up on us before we’ve even really started.
He’s worried about me.
