Page 31 of Shattered

“Er, yeah . . . ” He scratches the back of his head. "The coach might have informed you about my grades decreasing, and I’m sure you’re aware that I can’t afford to let them decline." I make eye contact with him and give a nod.

“According to Coach, taking an additional class will be the only way to get them back up.” I nod again, unsure of where this is headed.

“I was looking at the college’s website today and noticed that it mentioned you also teach business management classes?” Ah, yes, he’s right. I am scheduled to start that in the upcoming semester.

“Not this semester, but I will eventually. I think they are starting next.” His shoulders slump in a disappointed manner as he nods.

“No worries,” he says, placing his hand on his door. As he says, “I’ll see you in class.”

All I can focus on is the sickening feeling, observing his lack of happiness and hopefulness. He’s unhappy now, and it’s my fault, which is not acceptable.

My hand lays over his, that is on the door handle, and I blurt out, “I will run the class for you.” Brayden stares down at my hand on top of his and I quickly snatch it away. I’m trying my best to ignore the tingling sensation that moves up my arm.

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head, gazing down at his hand, rubbing it as if my touch physically burned him. “It’s OK. What do you mean, you will run them for me?” With his head raised and a frown on his face, he directs his questioning gaze straight at me.

“It will mean after-school time.” Clearing my throat, I continue, “Meeting me in the classroom at five on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays and I’ll teach the business management to you.”

“Are you serious? You’d do that for me?” he asks, his brows raised in shock.

“If my student needs help, then I will help them. It’s as simple as that.” I shrug. “See you in class tomorrow.” I give Brayden a tight-lipped smile. I walk away, close my eyes, and inhale deeply.

I will help my students with whatever they need help with during school hours.

Brayden, however, is the only one I would help, whether it be ten at night or four in the morning and I have to make sure he never realizes that. My mind and body resist leaving Brayden, as I feel that same invisible tie once more, as I did last night and at the gym today. Pulling me, wanting me to look his way. When I reach the end of the hall and turn the corner, I quickly glance behind me. Brayden isn’t looking at me. In front of his dorm room, he stands, fixated on his hand.

I wonder if he experienced the same sensation, signaling it’s not only me.

Chapter nineteen

Brayden

Waking up today feels harder than it usually is. Bexley plagued my dreams last night. My words to him replayed in my mind as a never-ending movie. He was drowning in water, but I didn’t save him. I continued yelling at him and all of a sudden, I found myself in front of a doorway. Water was consuming Bexley directly in front of me, almost as if this door were perched on the shoreline of a lake. He begged for my help; he begged for me to reach out to him, but I didn’t.

I shut the door.

I let him drown.

Is that what it feels like to him? Like he’s drowning? And I simply walked away from him when he needed me?

But I’ve been there when he needed me. I’ve been there my whole life. He could have asked me for help any of those times and he didn’t.

I remember when it all began—the notes became fewer, he wouldn’t get home until the early hours. It started young. Iremember the first night we were twelve, and he told me at school that I needed to go straight home and that he would meet me there later. He claimed to have detention, but I sensed something was off. I spent the entire night waiting for him. Mom had no clue he wasn’t there until he casually walked in at 3:30 in the morning, reeking of an unfamiliar and awful odor. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had been crying for hours. I remember running over to him and grabbing him; I remember because my heart was beating so fast that I thought I was going to pass out. He watched me with glazed-over, bloodshot eyes as I fussed over him, but he simply yawned and fell asleep on his side of the bed. He skipped school the next morning.

That’s when everything started to go wrong.

School stopped being a priority for Bex. He said I had to go.

He would say to me, “Bray, one of us has to be the brains, and I know it won’t be me.”

The truth is, he could have been the one, but he decided on a different lifestyle.He believed I desired the constant supply of new clothes he would bring home for me, the latest sneakers that would make all the neighbors envious. I no longer suffered from hunger during the night. I stopped going to school with shoes full of holes and clothes stained. He provided benefits to Mom without her ever questioning where he got all those things. Despite my repeated attempts, he would dismiss me or respond angrily, insisting I should be more thankful.

He assured me that he was working toward a brighter future for me.

And he wasn’t lying. He was. But that’s the thing. He was creating it for me and not us.

I began writing him notes to find when he arrived home late at night, and he consistently responded.

---