Page 10 of Point of Contention

“Do you want me to come with you? When you make the call, I mean?”

I shook my head as I reached the door. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know. But I’m right across the hall if you’re not.”

Before I left, I looked back over my shoulder. “Wait, what was the good news?”

Greer looked up from her phone, raising her eyebrows as her brain caught up with the question. “Oh. Sorry. There wasn’t any.”

I frowned. “Then… why did you… never mind.”

“It’s just an expression,” she called after me.

No good news. Fitting.

I slipped back into my room and shut the door, then scanned the floor for my bag. I couldn’t remember bringing it inside. Did I even have it in the car? Everything was such a blur. Spotting it hanging from a hook on the back of the door, I moved toward it and retrieved my cell phone. I’d been bombarded with texts and phone calls, but only two really stood out to me.

The first one was from Cabot.

I skipped it, delaying the inevitable for only a moment.

The other was from Marisa. Holding my breath, I opened it, hoping for a miracle after the disgusted way she’d looked at me during the press conference this morning. What I got instead was more heartbreak.

When exactly did u start fucking ur way to the top? B4 or after u pretended to be my friend?

My chest pinched as the vise tightened around it and new tears sprung to my eyes. I closed out of that text thread and a text from Hector popped up, but I ignored that one for fear that it would be the same as Marisa’s.

Or worse.

Bracing myself with a deep breath, I opened the texts from Cabot.

Rylan.

I inhaled a deep breath. I could hear his voice, the tone of it as he said my name, as if he’d sent a voice memo rather than a text.

Please talk to me.

Please tell me you’re okay.

An hour later, he sent another:

No regrets, remember?

A sob slipped past my lips. No regrets. I’d given him that promise before everything had imploded. Before I knew about Stella’s little stunt with the press. Before I came to my senses and realized I’d made one mistake after another, all of them leading to my unraveling.

It was the final text he sent that truly broke my heart. Just over thirty minutes ago.

Tell me what you need.

I squeezed my eyes shut, releasing a flood of tears down my cheeks. What did I need?

Clarity.

Time.

A chance to do it all over again and not screw everything up this time.

When I opened my eyes again, I blinked to clear my focus and stared at the screen. Then I typed the only logical thing I could think of:

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