That was all he said.
Just my name.
That made it worse because he still believed there was a chance I’d be the guy he knew instead of the one standing there doing nothing while everyone in the room watched him take the fall.
Ridgway jerked forward again, struggling against the guys holding him. “That little freak tried to kiss Cross,” he yelled.
All eyes turned to me.
I could’ve said something. Maybe not enough to fix it, not enough to make any of this disappear, but enough to keep Keaton from standing there alone in it.
Except the beer in my system didn’t erase what I should’ve done. It just made me slower, made the room feel off, and made every second drag as I stood there and let the silence do damage I couldn’t take back.
“Cross?” Windsor prompted.
Ridgway jerked against the hands holding him. “I saw him. He was all over him.”
Keaton didn’t look at Ridgway.
He kept looking at me.
I could’ve told the truth. I could’ve stepped forward. I could’ve done anything except what I did, which was stand there and let the lie settle long enough to become its own answer.
“Say something,” Keaton pleaded.
When I didn’t, something changed in his face.
Hurt flashed across it first. Then it was gone.
He met my stare and understood I wasn’t going to fight for him. I was going to let him stand there alone. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and held my stare for another second, as if making sure he’d seen me clearly. Then he shook his head a little, snorted under his breath, and brushed past the guy in front of the door.
After a beat, I pushed past everyone and went after him.
Outside, people were scattered in the yard, drunk and laughing, and music bumping through the walls. The whole party kept going as if nothing had happened.
I spotted Keaton halfway down the street, walking toward his car.I stumbled off the porch. “Keaton!”
He didn’t look back.
By the time I reached the sidewalk, he was getting into his car. The door slammed shut, and a second later, he pulled away from the curb.
Then I stopped and watched his taillights disappear.
The beer in my system suddenly turned mean. My head felt too hot and too light, the ground shifted just enough to make me brace both hands on my knees as I bent over and tried not to fall.
“You good?” Windsor asked.
No, I wasn’t good.
“Yeah,” I lied, but I’d just stood there and let Keaton take the hit for something that was mine too, and now he was gone.
“What was that all about?” Windsor questioned.
“Nothing.”
I sat down on the curb in front of the house because my legs didn’t feel steady enough to trust. Music continued pounding inside. People kept pouring through the front door, laughing too loud, talking over each other, acting like the whole night hadn’t just split open.
I pulled out my phone and texted Keaton, the screen a little blurry:
