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It's her blood pressure, that's what the doctors at the hospital said.

My mom's been under stress the last few days at work, she admitted to me, due to of an abundance of papers to grade, as well as demonic high-school students who lived to torment her. Her blood pressure pill dosage was very high. I remember going to the family doctor's with my mom two months ago where Dr. Zenni had increased it.

After doing some tests, the doctors at the hospital lower it and say her vitals are good.

"I'm alright, honey," my mom whispers with a faint smile.

I hold her hand by her bedside, licking my dry lips. "I know; I'm glad you are. You had me so worried." I kiss her knuckles. "The doctors said we can leave in a few hours."

She nods weakly and closes her eyes. "Yes."

"And...If you feel fine in three days, we can still travel according to them."

I know more than anything my mom doesn't want to cancel this trip. She's been looking forward to it above everything else. If I could have it my way, I'd buckle her to her bed and never let her go. But maybe a change of scenery is exactly what she needs?

She needs to be surrounded by her daughter and her family abroad and take a break from everything.

Thank God, it wasn't anything more serious.

My eyes tear up again and my mom sighs, rubbing my cheek softly.

"I've never felt more terrified in my life."

She gulps hard, her eyes tracing my face. "I know, doll. I know the feeling."

"You do?"

She nods weakly. "Two years ago, when Sharlene and Ethan called to tell me you were in the hospital, I'd never felt more helpless in my life."

I close my eyes, drowning out every thought of that day when my stepfather knocked the living daylights out of me. We don't talk about it. We don't dwell on it.

We pressed charges, mom gave him the boot and he landed his ass in jail somewhere down the line.

But the scars he gave me? Physically they faded away. But the print of them had never, it seems.

"I'm okay, mom," I reassure her. My insides have been mended over the years, even though my armor is now a little bit chipped.

Everyone has scars though, and that's what make us human.

"I'm okay, too." Tears well up in her eyes now. I smooth away the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes lovingly.

When I found her at the bottom of the stairs, I thought she was dead. I've never experienced a bigger scare in my life than that moment. I thought that was it. She was gone.

But she's still here and I know what a blessing that is.

I smile and kiss her hand again.

* * *

My mom has had time to recover in the next 24 hours. The new dose suits her much better. Because she insists she's feeling good the next morning, after kissing her on the head, I leave for Trent's place.

After realizing how short life can truly be, I don't want to fight with him over something trivial. I regret ignoring his messages, so I want to set things right between us.

I'm no longer mad about the Lance fiasco. I get where he was coming from. Truth be told, if I caught him with another girl and found out he was studying with her "behind" my back – in other words, never mentioning to me– I'd be pretty pissed too. More so if it was a girl who's guts I hated, whether I'd ever told him about her or not.

That's relationship building, right? Learning to compromise and coming to terms with our flaws.

I haven't seen him in three days and there's been no communication. I feel guilty because it's my fault for not texting him back. Even though I wanted to, my mind wasn't in the right space. I was preoccupied with ensuring my mom lived to see another day.

However, texting him won't cut it. I need to apologize to him in person and tell him what happened with my mom.

Right now, more than ever, I want to be with him. I need his comfort.

I arrive at his building. By the time I make it to the 7th floor hallway, I notice that his door is open and he's standing out in the hallway with a serious frown and his arms folded over his brawny chest.

There's a girl in front of him and when I approach them... I realize it's Rose.

They both turn around when they hear my carpet-muted steps.

Trent's face is stony and every line in his body a brick wall. Rose's gaze drifts over me in a bored, every-day would-you-like-fries with that manner. It's as if my newfound appearance makes no difference to them.

"Cher," Rose murmurs casually.

I'm anything but casual, but I try to be. There's so much I want to say, to hurl out, but I have to keep my composure. This is the first time I've seen her in years.

Time has done her kind. She's still pretty, but not in that nerdy cutesy way. Her thick-framed glasses are gone, her glossy black mane chopped short and stylishly, and her eyes look less animated than before, weighed down by years of growing up. At least, that's what I hope.

She peruses me in that same way, a touch sadness inching upon her feature. She masks it quickly.

"Rose," I parrot back.

"It's been..."

"Two years," I quip helpfully, fake saccharine smile set in place. "Without you. It's been great. How are you?"

Her demeanor is more mean girl than anything. If I were sixteen, I'd care. Now? I don't give a fuck. "How do you think I've been?"

I shrug. "Honestly, don't really care. I do want to know why you're having a conversation with my boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend? So I've heard." She smirks and looks me over again, as if taunting me that I have her sloppy seconds. I want to sock her. Trent is not sloppy or anyone's seconds. "Anyways, my boyfriend lives next door. I just happen to bump into Trey."

Trey. Her use of his old nick name – the one she'd flirtatiously call him by when they were still together – triggers me. My fist itches with the need to carve out that self-satisfied look.

Shouldn't she be in Australia or some shit? I don't know. Trent and I don't talk about her. She's not really worth it.

Trent is watching this exchange with coolness, as if this is just any other day.

"Anyways," Rose sucks in a sharp inhale, before letting it drop. Suddenly, she doesn't look very mean. Just tired. So am I. But I'm not throwing the gauntlet. "I'm really sorry about what happened, Trey. I hope you feel better."

Rose saunters away until she's back in the confinements of her own place. I get a little bit of satisfaction when Trent doesn't watch her as she leaves. There's no longing or yearning.

His eyes are fixed on me.

"Boyfriend?" I echo to Trent, resuming my own defensive stance. My arms cross over my chest, erecting a shield of sort to thwart off any incoming blows. "What is she talking about?"

His voice is bleak. "She's dating one of the university's basketball players – Levi."

"Do you care?" I hold my breath.

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at me. "Get over yourself. I don't want her, and she doesn't want me."

I try not to flinch at the crack of his words, like a whip. "What the hell was she talking about anyways? Are you okay?"

It's also worth noticing that Trent doesn't invite me inside. Instead, his hard body is leaning against the closed door and he's directing small daggers at me. Even in his state of mild anger, I still want him.

Some rational part of me knows I deserve it. I ignored him. This is him reacting. But once he hears my reasoning and the events of the last two days, he'll understand. I know he will.

Trent looks exhausted with eyebags and a few days worth of stubble on his jaw. Guilt intensifies in my gut. I want to put this all behind. I don't care about Rose. I don't care about the past. I just want my arms around him.

I want to weep and tell him about my mom.

Trent's staring at me, as if assessing some sort of response that I haven't given yet. I nudge him again to tell me if he's okay.

The laugh that releases is joyless. "No. I'm not okay, Cheryl."

Trent rarely calls me by my full name. I step forward towards him, but he recoils with a bit of disgust that catches me off-guard.

His demeanor screams that he's gearing for a battle. "Your little study buddy – Lance? He cost me my fucking scholarship and more. I'm getting kicked off the football team Monday morning."

What in the world... How can this have happened?

I rock back a step and taking in the bitterness suffusing his face.

"Hmm. That surprises you, eh?" He narrows his eyes. "News travels fast and everyone in the sports association knows what happened yesterday. Rose heard about it from her boyfriend, found out I lived beside them, and came to see how I was coping. Before you accuse me of more shit, I didn't invite her in or onto me. She came herself and it was a platonic conversation."

I do believe him on the platonic part.

I can't even ask him why he didn't text or call me to tell me personally when I should have been the first person to find out. I was ignoring him previously. I shut him out.

My stomach sinks and I look at him with apology written all over my expression.

But a small part of me bristles because Rose knew about Trent's scholarship before I did. He's my boyfriend and I should have known.

This is all so nightmarish for him – I can only imagine how he feels.

"How did this happen, babe?" Ignoring his reluctance, I try to hug him. He rejects me, with a dismissive hand. "Trent, I'm so sorry."

I try to hide the hurt, but to no avail.

"Are you?" he spits. "Are you really fucking sorry?"

Why wouldn't I be?

My eyes sting at his behaviour. "Of course, I am...I...This is bad. Please, tell me how this happened?"

"Lance Campa leaked your little alcohol and drug consumption report to Coach Harvey. Explain to me how Lance got his fucking hands on it?" he snarls, causing me to flinch back. "You said this shit wouldn't come back to me. I trusted you!"

His words hit me like a sucker punch.

No. No. No. No.

"Trent, I d-don't know," I stutter, fighting back tears. "There's no way–"

"You said my identity would be anonymous! How the hell did he know it was me? Did he hear the recordings?"

Every verbal lash is causing me to take a step back. "Trent, no one heard those recordings." Those recordings have been in an external hard drive that I've stashed away in my desk drawer for months. They weren't on my laptop the night we studied...

Fuck.

And it all comes back to me. The night I was studying at Starbucks with him, I left my laptop on. I recall Lance having a guilty expression when I returned. The last thing I'd left on was that report...

It's all my fault. Fucking hell.

Lance read it. He implied he knew it was Trent but that he'd keep his mouth shut.

I wrack my brain and instead of coming up short, I remember Lance having a USB with him that night.

The motherfucker saved a copy. That's why he looked guilty.

I feel dizzy with the knowledge that I fucking caused this. Trent trusted me and I screwed it up with my carelessness.

I suck in a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Trenton. He had access to my laptop the last time we studied together, and I didn't realize he took a copy of the report. I'm so, so, fucking sorry."

I never for a second considered it. I should have locked my laptop before going to the bathroom. I should never have trusted Lance. Everything had looked visibly the same when I returned from the bathroom, save for Lance's morphed expression.

I wish I'd told Trent about him before so he could have warned me then.

I've ruined everything for him and I'm having a hard time dealing with myself. Shame and regret burn a wild flame inside of me, eating me whole and causing my face to fill with red.

"He had access to your laptop?" Trent says in disbelief, dropping his arms. "That's your excuse?"

I nod meekly and Trent's face explodes, anger contorting it in a way that a vein throbs in his forehead. "I'm losing my scholarship! I'm getting kicked off the team! My dream of playing professionally after graduation is destroyed and you're...sorry? That's it, Cher? You ignore me for days and now you barely understand the magnitude of the situation!"

But I do get it. I fucked it up. I don't know how to set it right and it's killing me. Humiliation, an apology, and love for him is all I got right now.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Trent. You can't even begin to understand the depth of how sorry I am."

I feel like I'm riding on a high of emotions. My argument with Trent in the parking lot of the arena. Seeing my mom at death's doorstep. Facing Rose, his ex-girlfriend and my ex-best friend, after all these years. Suddenly, I'm crying, and I don't know how to hold back the river of tears.

They course down my cheeks in a sad, angry trail. Sorry is all I can offer. I don't know how to express myself anymore. I'm just as taken aback by this as he is.

His throat works with emotion. "You put me in jeopardy. My whole future at risk. I've just lost everything that I've worked towards my whole life, and you didn't even have the decency to reply to any of my messages. Instead, you decided your pride was more important. Well, I hope you're damn happy with yourself."

"I'm not happy with myself. This is a terrible situation and it cuts me that I'm the reason for it. I wish I could fix it, but I don't know how," I plead. "Tell me how. Tell me you can forgive me."

As if in a trance, his hand seeks out to wipe my tears, but halts. He drops it, grinding his molars. That hurts me too.

"You can't fix it because it's not yours to fix." Trent looks at me blankly. His eyes are searing into my soul but he's seeing...nothing. "It was my mistake for giving you that damn interview. I'm the one at fault here."

"No," I whisper back. "It's my fault. I should have been more careful. I should have told you about Lance. I should have –"

I stop talking when I realize that Trent isn't paying attention to me. His mind looks like it's elsewhere and he's fighting a battle with himself.

When he speaks again in a nonchalant manner, my heart crushes. "But who cares about that, right? You aced that class and that's all that matters, eh? Consequences be damned."

He doesn't want to take his frustration out of me, but he doesn't know what else to do.

I'm the cause of it. So I get it. I really fucking do.

I swallow hard.

But I don't want to be his verbal punching bag.

"Trent, please. Tell me what I can do to make this right. Let me go talk to your Coach. Anything. Please."

"Nothing. There's nothing you can do, Cheryl."

Cheryl. Usually my name coming out of his mouth sounds like a prayer. Now it sounds like a disgusting, vile curse.

I'm not here for this. I can't talk to a wall.

If he wants to be the asshole and not give me a chance to make proper amends, then so be it. He's allowed to feel this way, to hold onto his anger, because I'm partly the cause of it.

But I'm feeling drained and over this. The last 48 hours come rushing back to me and my head, along with my heart, pounds.

I know exactly where this is heading.

Trent needs time. He needs to be away from me to digest what is happening. And I need to be away from him so he can do it all.

I also need to be away from him so I can face the consequence of what I've done to the guy I love.

"You don't want to hear me out right now. I get it," I tell him with forced calmness, despite new, hot tears running down the slopes of my cheeks. My mascara is probably smeared, and I look like a joke. Good. I feel like it too. "You want to throw your anger onto me? Fine. Do it. I deserve it. I played a pivotal part. I know how much football means to you and the fact that I had a role in ruining your dream is gutting me. I should give you time to cool down, and then make amends for my mistake, if you'll let me."

I'm looking at him pointedly.

"But I don't think you'll let me make amends. Because how can I rectify this mistake?" I finish off. "I don't know how we'll recover from this. And, even if we do, I feel like a part of you will always resent me."

"I don't know what to feel right now." He's completely raw in this moment. Trent stares skyward, and I hate to break it to him, because the answer isn't there. "Right now, I don't know anything anymore. All I know is that I need to be angry. I need to hold onto this anger because it's all too fresh. I'm not saying it's all directed at you – I dug my own grave."

I close my eyes.

"My whole life, there was a path in front of me and I simply had to walk on it and reach my end goal. Now there's a dead-end. I'm stuck. There's another path, but I don't know where this one leads and, frankly, I'm terrified of the unknown."

I open my eyes and face his hurt.

His big body sags against the door, the fight leaving him, but he continues in a hushed tone. "I'm not prepared to take that leap. My whole life has been carefully planned down to the finest detail where football was concerned. I'm a control freak and now? Now I have no control over my future."

"And I caused that," I finish for him.

Defeat is plastered all over his features. "You played a damn big part in it."

"What do you want from me, Trent?" If he tells me right now that he needs my comfort as much as I do, I'll step right in and never let him go.

If he says otherwise...

I'm leaving.

"I need to be left alone to my thoughts for awhile. But you get that, don't you?"

There's no more bitterness in his words. They're laced with mental strain and exhaustion.

In other words, he's angry and he needs to hold onto that anger. I want to be mad, but it's justified. This isn't like the time he found out about Pierre and needed to be sure of us.

This is his future and I just took a chainsaw and massacred it right in front of his face.

But I know that I'm tired of this back-and-forth between us. It always feels like an uphill battle with him. It has for years. My emotions are heightened because of what happened with my mom, but Rose's presence just opened up old wounds and poured salt into it.

It reminded me just how long mine and Trent's journey had been.

And...maybe we've arrived at the end of it?

I once said Trent was my person, the one who'd been here this entire time. But looking at everything that's just happened, I'm wondering if I was even right. I'm wondering if maybe...maybe this whole thing was a mistake?

This always happen. I fall in love with him, and something always drifts us apart. Last time it was Rose. Now it's my own sheer stupidity.

I get it though. He's hurting and the only one who can help him is himself and he needs to do that, without me by his side. He can't heal from this life altering decision until I'm out of the picture.

He may not have echoed those exact words, but the sentiment is the same.

And the truth is, I need to be with my mom and channel my focus onto her.