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I pressed my hands over my face as I breathed in, trying to reclaim my calm. I told her to ignore it, but of course she didn’t. She was so stubborn—more than most people thought.
Sometimes it was really annoying.
My program was inspired by mad libs. Whenever a term was flagged, the program would generate a randomly innocent answer as a result. Something that would, hopefully, not be triggering, but usually always led to questions she’d ask me later.
However, the program wasn’t foolproof, as evidenced from the result to this query.
I groaned, rubbing my forehead. Truth and dare, massages… and how thehelldid ‘happy ending’ end up in there? That wasfarfrom innocent.
Did this damn thing break? Now I had to go fix another bug in the program.
ThankGodshe hadn’t searched for that next—something else must have been on her mind. At least that gave me time to flag it.
Still, though, today was going to be a very bad day.
I closed my laptop and dragged myself downstairs, as ready as I ever would be to get to school. It’d felt like I’d been up for hours already when really… What time was it?
I checked my watch—it was only seven in the morning.
But thatdidmean I’d been up for hours.
I was too young to be this tired.
“Welcome back, Mr. Abernathy!” Georges was just finishing with cleaning up breakfast dishes. “Everything is ready for you.”
“Thanks.” I washed my hands, then dried them as I approached the newly cleaned counter. “Cold cuts?” I asked him.
I always made our lunches, but he picked out the theme of the day. Just so long as he followed one simple rule: I would makeanythingexcept sardines.
“It’s only Wednesday.” Georges shrugged. “There’s no occasion to be fancy today. But do you really eat all of this food yourself?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, putting together our lunches. “I sure do.”
Georges didn’t prod further, though I didn’t think he believed me, and before I left, he placed two paper cups next to the brown lunch bag. “Have a good day at school, Mr. Abernathy.”
“Thanks, Georges.” I put the lunch in my tote and grabbed the coffee. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes.” He winked, his expression lightening. “We’re having liver tonight.”
Ugh. Definitely a bad day.
I found a parking spot at the back of the lot and trudged my way toward the school. My chest was tight with anticipation, and my pulse began to race. It’d only been yesterday since I’d last seen her, but it felt like a million years.
Yet, there was also the guilt. The feeling in my stomach that I was doing something wrong.
That I was hurting her.
And the question I faced every day raced through my mind—especially on days when she’d gone through a particularly rough night: Should I go to Damen? He was a slut and didn’t think things through, which was my biggest concern.
She was unable to create boundaries, and he had no common sense. And even though I knew he’d be able to help her—what was the potential cost?
Everything relied on his emotional maturity, which, lately, wasn’t inspiring. Otherwise, he could do far more harm than good.
I would not let her get hurt—even by my own brother.
“Finn!” The sound of her voice always stood apart to me, and I glanced at our meeting place: a singular concrete bench tucked to the side of the school’s entryway. And suddenly, it was all worthwhile.
I would do anything to keep her safe.
