Promise Me

I can’t muster up a smile of my own, because my response is completely serious. “I’m hers for the taking, but the ball’s in her court.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kendall

“You look miserable.”

“I am miserable,” I say to my mom. I’m curled up on the couch, watching cooking shows on mute because the hosts are way too cheery for me today. I like to see the food, though. Not that I’ve got much of an appetite.

“Don’t move,” Mom says.

“No problem.” I’ve been in this position for most of the morning. It’s bad enough I can’t shake the look of hurt on Vaughn’s face when I told him good-bye, but then last night I discovered my social media accounts blowing up. More than one old friend had posted pictures of Vaughn and me at the funeral along with horrible, hurtful captions. The kinds of things I wanted to keep secret. I can’t get the pictures and narrations out of my head. Can’t believe my peers could be so cruel.

Before going to sleep, I turned off all notifications and seriously thought about closing my accounts, but then it occurred to me that by running away, I’d be letting the haters win. I’d be letting them run me off. I’ve already

suffered consequences I wouldn’t wish on anyone, and it’s them, not me, at fault this time.

If there was any lingering doubt in my mind about belonging in my hometown or anywhere near it, it’s gone. I don’t want any part of small-minded people and assholes with nothing better to do than talk crap behind someone’s back. I tossed and turned in bed for hours, hiding under the covers like that would make it all go away.

It won’t.

I have no idea if the internet is still buzzing with gossip about us. I can’t bring myself to look. I can’t bear to know if the publicity about my past has hurt Vaughn’s chances with America Rocks, but I don’t have to consult any screens to know it hasn’t helped. This proves what I—and his dad—feared. Being around me isn’t good for his career. That’s the gist of the stories spreading all over the place like I’m not a real person with real feelings.

I wipe at my eyes, thinking back to our good-bye when one second I was telling myself to resist him and the next I was telling myself to pull him closer. To never let him go. All relationships are tethered to pasts, and dealing with a difficult one is a lot easier with someone by your side.

By my side is a hazardous place for someone like him, though.

“Here we go,” Mom says, holding a wooden tray with iron handles in her hands. She sets it down on the coffee table. “Two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, marshmallows, and chocolate chip cookie straws.”

“My favorite,” I say with gratitude.

“It’s always on hand, and I think today is a perfect day to indulge.” She places a straw and a giant marshmallow into one of the cups and passes it to me. “It’s okay to be upset, sweetheart, but maybe this will help a little.”

I take the mug in both hands and sniff the bittersweet scent. “It does. Thanks.”

Mom lifts her drink. “The people who matter, honey, know the person you are and would defend you until their last breath if asked.”

“I know.”

“And intelligent people know to take what they read on social media with a grain of salt.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybes. How anyone would think it’s okay to give an ounce of respect to the kinds of comments being shared is ridiculous.”

Comments claiming I brought Vaughn Shaughnessy to my ex-boyfriend’s funeral to show everyone I’m hot shit, living in Cali, sleeping my way to the career I always talked about. There are people calling me a drunk and worse. Comments warning Vaughn to drop me before I hurt him, too.

My mug shakes in my hands.

Mom steadies me with a gentle touch and helps me put the cup back on the tray.

I sniffle for the thousandth time. “It’s hard to ignore all the horrible things people are saying.”

“But not impossible. Tune it out with the things you know are true in your heart, and if that doesn’t work repeat after me…”

I sink back into the couch. “One step and deep breath at a time,” we say together.

“This is another opportunity, you know,” Mom says.