Page 62 of Closing the Distance

Questions and what-ifs run through a loop in my mind while my parents babble on the phone, trying to understand why Tanner would do this, why Lexi would leave, why, why, why.

“Ty, what can we do to help?”

I drop to my couch, putting my head in my hands as the stress of the last few hours weighs me down. I’m drowning under it all, and all I want is Lexi back.

“I don’t know,” I choke out, my voice breaking.

“Sweetie,” Mom says, her voice watery like she’s fighting back her own tears.

“She’s gone, Mom. She left, and I don’t know if she’ll want to come back. At this point, I can’t blame her if she doesn’t.”

“She will.” Her voice wavers slightly. “She loves you,” she says, and this time there’s no doubt in her voice.

But what if love isn’t enough?

I love Lexi with every fiber of my soul, with every breath in my body, with every beat of my heart. But what does any of that mean if I can’t protect her from my own fucking brother? From the vitriol the media is spewing about her childhood that she survived.

What good is love if she’s hurting and feels safer away from me than with me?

THIRTY-FIVE

The ticking of a clock is the only sound for a long time. I don’t know why Blaire has it, but it’s starting to annoy the shit out of me.

When I showed up on her doorstep, my cheeks tearstained and a no-doubt vacant look in my eyes, her eyebrows practically hit her hairline, but all she did was open the door and let me in. Once I explained, she went on a rampage for an hour while I sat on her couch, shock hitting me hard as I realized all the ways my life would never be the same.

My students and their families may not have cared about my pregnancy, but I can’t imagine there won’t be a lot of conversations about the information circulating about me now. Blaire took my phone away when it kept dinging with notifications from people who I was friends with on social media posting on my accounts or tagging me. The comments were my worst-case scenario brought to life.

Is this really you? Are you allowed to teach with a criminal history?

Wow, this is insane. They let this woman be a teacher? I wouldn’t want my kid in her class.

I went to high school with her. She was the weird, quiet girl. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

More of the same, but it was never-ending.

All my hard work trying to put the past behind me, and it’s gone in the blink of an eye. A record that was never supposed to see the light of day, foster kids who were in homes with me coming out of the woodwork for their fifteen minutes of fame while they tell lies about me.

I can only imagine how much worse it’s gotten since Blaire took my phone away.

“What am I going to do?” I whisper, a sob building in my throat as my eyes burn with tears. All my anger evaporated as soon as I left Ty, and now I’m just left with a desolate emptiness.

Blaire sits next to me and holds my hand. “I don’t know, but you’re not going to do it alone. I’m going to be right by your side at work tomorrow.”

I squeeze her hand because if I try to talk, tears will be the only thing that come out. She tilts her head to try to make eye contact. “I bet Ty would be there too if you asked.”

I nibble my lip because a part of me wants to—the part of me that grew comfortable with the way he took care of me, loved me. But the other part of me—the part who’s known only struggle, betrayal, and pain—is louder and telling me I can’t really rely on anyone but myself. Not even Blaire.

I shake my head and catch her frown in my peripheral vision, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m gonna lie down. I’m tired.”

She doesn’t stop me as I make my way to her guest room. She checks up on me at dinner time, but I’m not hungry. I don’t know when exactly I finally fall asleep, my tears soaking the pillow, but when I wake up, the sun is just starting to rise.

Time to get up and see the damage of my life.

It’s worse than I imagined. When Blaire and I pull up at work, I’m suddenly grateful for the bodyguard I found in Blaire’s living room this morning when I came out for breakfast. Ty sent him, and at first I thought it was overkill, but now that I’m seeing the front entrance of my school swarming with press, I’m glad he’s here. My heart races as he parks the car he insisted on driving, and we all stare outat the chaos that’s spread across the walkway and the front lawn of the school.

“Are you sure about this? Maybe you should call out sick,” Blaire suggests, not for the first time.

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