62. Chapter 61
J enna
Monday afternoons were supposed to be uneventful. Jenna had just made herself a cup of tea, trying to shake off the remnants of the weekend when her phone rang, the sharp tone cutting through her fragile peace.
She frowned at the unknown number before answering. Within seconds, her stomach clenched.
"This is Mr. Carmichael from Dylan's school. I'm calling because Dylan was involved in a fight."
Jenna shot upright. "What? Is he okay?"
"He's bruised but mostly fine," the teacher assured her. "However, we need you to come in right away."
Her mind spun. The foster papers are barely sorted, and now this?
Jenna was already stuffing her feet into her shoes as she dialled Grace, who was usually next door. The phone rang. No answer.
She stepped outside, hoping to spot her friend. "Grace?"
Nothing.
Then she remembered-Grace wasn't home today. And Jenna, of course , had neglected to get her car tire fixed after it went flat over the weekend.
She muttered a curse under her breath. Now what?
Before she could think of a plan, the sound of footsteps behind her made her shoulders tighten.
She didn't even have to turn around to know who it was .
"Do you have an antenna for trouble or something?" she snapped, whipping around to face Troy.
His hands were in his pockets, face unreadable as he took her in. "What happened?"
Jenna let out a frustrated sigh. "Dylan got into a fight. I need to get to the school. Now. "
Troy barely hesitated. He jerked his head toward his car parked down the street. "Let's go."
Jenna opened her mouth to argue. To protest. To insist she could handle this herself.
But she couldn't.
Not with her car out of commission. Not with her friend missing in action .
She let out a slow, measured breath before muttering, "Fine."
Troy simply opened the passenger door for her, wordlessly.
And as she climbed in, she hated- hated -how relieved she felt that he was there.
Jenna found herself in the passenger seat again as Troy sped toward Dylan's school. The tension was thick enough to slice. Jenna's heart hammered with dread, imagining Dylan battered and alone, reeling from Sasha's death, the new fostering arrangement.
At the school, the principal gave them a stern look over his glasses. Dylan, scowling, sported a split lip and a bruised cheek. "We can't have fights on campus," the principal insisted. "One more incident, and he'll face suspension. He used a homophobic slur, and that's not acceptable. "
Jenna's cheeks burned with shame. Dylan, slouched in a chair, spat, "He called me a faggot and said Dani's gonna end up a jarg.I only returned the favour."
Jenna inhaled sharply. The words must have cut Dylan to the quick.
Troy said nothing, though Jenna noticed the tightness in his jaw.
Once dismissed, they all walked out. Dylan glared at Troy. "Don't you have a job? Why're you even here?"
Troy didn't answer.
Dylan let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head "Never mind."
Troy's face remained unreadable. He unlocked the car without a word, and the three of them drove home in silence, tension radiating in every direction.
The next morning, Troy arrived unannounced again, this time finding Dylan alone in the living room rummaging for the TV remote.
He had asked if he could skip school for just one day and though Jenna always felt it was best to deal with your problems directly unlike what she did for years, she gave in.
Jenna overheard Troy quietly saying, "Mind if we talk for a minute? "
Dylan folded his arms. "Whatever."
In the foyer, Jenna hesitated, eavesdropping from around the corner. Troy spoke softly. "I'm sorry about everything you've gone through-Sasha passing away, the foster system, the new environment. I know you have no reason to like me, but... I understand losing someone you love."
"Don't compare me to you," Dylan mumbled. "You had money, privilege. Sasha said so."
Troy's tone remained steady. "Maybe. But pain is pain. And it was Sasha, right, who insisted I'd... I'd break Jenna's heart?" He paused. "I was scared. Scared Sasha would convince Jenna to leave me for good. She almost did once, a long time ago."
Dylan huffed. "She was just looking out for Jenna."
"I know," Troy said, voice thick. "But I panicked, and I kept Sasha at a distance. I regret that now. I wish I'd come to the funeral, but Jenna didn't seem to want me there. I was trying to respect that."
Dylan's voice shook with anger. "You should've fought harder. Sasha wanted Jenna happy. Maybe you were never good enough, and she knew it."
A moment of silence. Then Troy sighed. "You might be right. But I'm trying. I'm not giving up on Jenna. Nor on you or Dani, if you'll let me try."
Jenna's breath caught. She pressed a hand to her chest, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. Hearing him lay out his vulnerabilities in front of Dylan made her heart twist.
She heard Dylan mutter, "Whatever," but it lacked its usual hostility. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Then Troy stepped into the hallway, spotting Jenna. He froze, guilt and uncertainty playing across his face.
She stared back, unsure what to say or feel.
In that charged moment, a fragile possibility shimmered between them: an acknowledgement that, behind all the anger and hurt, something worth fighting for might still remain.