Chapter 2

Cain’s POV

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since Tina decided to play that stupid video at the graduation after party, and somehow, everything had gone to shit since then.

At first, I hadn’t thought much of it. Roxy had sent me a message that same night telling me how much she hated me, that she never wanted to see me again, and that she would never forgive me for what I had done.

I had been drunk, irritated, and surrounded by friends who kept telling me she would get over it eventually, so I ignored her.

Hours later, somewhere around three in the morning, I had been stupid enough to send her a drunken video message. I told her she was making too much of a fuss over everything, that the bet had happened months ago and it wasn’t like she was the first person in the world to have sex.

At the time, it had made perfect sense inside my drunken head. But by morning, nothing about it felt funny anymore. I had been sleeping off one of the worst hangovers of my life when my bedroom door suddenly flew open.

“What the hell have you done?”

My father’s voice practically shook the room.

I groaned, dragging the pillow over my head. “Dad, seriously.”

“What did you do, Cain?”

“It was an after graduation party.” I rolled onto my back and squinted at him, my head feeling like someone was repeatedly hitting it with a hammer. “Everyone got drunk. Nothing happened.”

“I’m not talking about the damn party! I’m talking about that fucking bet you made about that girl.”

That got my attention, and I pushed myself onto one elbow. My father stood beside the bed, still wearing his suit from work even though it wasn’t even nine in the morning. His face was red with anger, and his phone was clenched tightly in his hand.

I stared at him for a second. “Roxy?”

“Who else?”

I sighed and fell back against the pillows. “It wasn’t anything serious. Just something stupid between me and the guys.”

“Something stupid? You humiliated a girl for a bet, and you’re lying there telling me it wasn’t serious?”

I rubbed both hands over my face. “Dad, can we do this later?”

“No, we cannot do this later because it is all over the internet.”

The hangover disappeared almost instantly. “What?”

He threw his phone onto the bed, and I grabbed it before it had even stopped bouncing.

The party video was first someone had filmed the projector screen and put the whole thing online. The bet. Me holding up the bedsheet. Roxy’s face when she found out. The slap. The comment I made after, the one that still made my stomach turn just remembering it.

Then it got worse. Farther down the thread, someone had posted a picture of her a private picture, something she had sent me months ago.

My blood went cold, and I sat straight up. “What the fuck? How did that get there?”

My father laughed bitterly. “You’re asking me?”

“I didn’t post this.”

“Does that matter right now?”

“Yes, it fucking matters.” My hands weren’t steady anymore. I hadn’t sent that photo to a single person. I didn't even remember it leaving my phone.

My eyes moved down to the comments, and immediately, I wished I hadn’t read them. People were saying horrible things about her, making jokes and calling her names talking about her body like she wasn’t even a real person.

One comment mentioned the blood on the bedsheet, and another joked about how much money I had won. I swallowed hard as a sick feeling settled heavily inside my chest.

This wasn’t what I wanted. The bet had started as a stupid joke between friends one of them had bet me I couldn’t get the quiet girl who read through lunch to fall for me, and I was too proud to walk away from a dare.

That was the whole plan get her to fall, win the bet, move on. But somewhere in those three months, the plan had stopped being the point. I liked the way she laughed at things that weren’t even funny and the way she’d swear up and down she wasn’t hungry and then steal every fry off my plate.

The way she smelled like vanilla when she fell asleep with her head on my chest.

She had trusted me, and I had destroyed her.

“What is wrong with you?” my father demanded. “I didn’t raise you to treat people like this.”

“I know.”

“No, you clearly don’t know. You dragged this family’s name through the mud over a little bet.”

“I said I know!”

He stepped closer. “You’re going to fix this.”

I scoffed. “How? I didn't post this! I didn't”

“I don’t care how. You are going to find that girl, you apologize, and you do whatever you have to do to make this right. Because if you don’t, I’m sending you south.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“You heard me.”

My eyes widened in shock. “You can’t be serious, Dad. I got accepted in”

“You’ll enroll in that college near your aunt’s house, and you’ll stay with her until you learn that actions have consequences.”

“Dad”

“I mean it, Cain.”

I was in the car before I’d even eaten anything, calling Roxy’s number the entire drive over. Nothing. When I knocked, her mother opened the door, and the moment she saw me, her expression changed.

“Mrs. Bennett, please, I need to talk to Roxy.”

She slammed the door in my face.

And that became my routine for the next week call, text, drive to her house, and get shut out. Some days, her mother answered just long enough to tell me to leave. Other days, nobody came to the door at all.

And today was no different or at least, that was what I thought until I pulled up outside the house and immediately noticed something was wrong.

There were no cars in the driveway, and the curtains were gone.

I got out and knocked anyway, waited, and knocked again.

“Roxy?”

Still no response.

The front door of the neighboring house opened, and an older woman stepped outside onto her porch.

“If you’re looking for the Bennetts, they’re gone, young man.”

I turned toward her. “What do you mean, gone?”

“They moved.”

My stomach dropped. I stood there staring at the empty house.

They had moved Roxy had actually left because of me.

I got back into my car and called her again, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Roxy, it’s me.” I tightened my grip around the steering wheel. “I went to your house, and your neighbor said you moved. I don’t know where you are, but please just pick up. I need to talk to you.”

I ended the call and called again ten minutes later still nothing.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know saying that doesn’t fix anything, but I’m sorry. I swear I never wanted any of this to happen.”

By the time I was halfway home, frustration finally took over.

“Fuck!”

I flung my phone onto the passenger seat, and for the first time since that party, I didn’t care about my father’s threats. He could send me south, could take away my car, my cards, everything.

None of it mattered if I just wanted Roxy to answer. I wanted one chance to tell her that somewhere between the stupid bet and all those nights I spent holding her, she had stopped being some challenge.

I cared about her, and perhaps I had realized it too late.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I had already accepted that there was probably nothing I could do. I walked inside and found my father sitting in the living room.

“I went back. They’re gone moved, and she won’t pick up. I don’t know where she is, so I don’t know what else you want from me”

“Go pack your things, Cain,” he let out coldly, his face giving away nothing. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”