Chapter 30
I knock on Jenni’s door.
How could I? Between Zach’s proposal, the most beautiful ring I couldn’t say yes to, and the text I got from Chris last night, I couldn’t just leave it.
The message still burns in my memory.
Chris: I went to see Jenni. I don’t know, Honey. Something doesn’t feel right. She acted weird and said things that don’t line up. I think she’s planning something, and I’m concerned she’s trying to hurt you through Zach.
I need answers. I need to understand what happened at Murphy's before this spirals into something that destroys Zach publicly.
The door opens.
Jenni stands there with messy hair, and makeup smudged from last night, but the second she sees me, her eyes go wide.
“Honey.” She breathes my name, then immediately pulls me into a hug. “Oh my god. I’ve been so worried about you. Come in, please, come in.”
I let her pull me inside, too tired and broken to resist.
She closes the door and turns to face me, her eyes taking me in with concern.
“I didn’t sleep at all last night. I kept thinking about you, about what you must be going through.
Did Zach find you? Did he try to—” She stops herself, biting her lip.
“I’m so sorry, Honey. I’m so sorry you had to find out like that. ”
“Find out what?” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
“Oh.” Her voice is dripping with sympathy.
“About him. About what he’s been doing behind your back.
” She moves to her desk, her hands shaking as she picks up her phone.
“I didn’t want to tell you since you said you avoided social media, but after last night—after he tried to—” Her voice breaks.
“I can’t keep covering for him anymore.”
“Covering for him?”
“Look.” She pulls up her messages, scrolling quickly, then holds the phone out to me. “I need you to see this. I need you to understand that I've been trying to protect you.”
I take the phone, my hands trembling.
The messages on the screen are between her and Zach.
Zach: You looked really good tonight. Wish Hail Mary’s had a more private room than the hallway.
Jenni: I wish you hadn’t said those things to me Zach.
Zach: Why?
Jenni: You know why. Honey’s my friend. We shouldn’t be doing this.
Zach: But what if it’s what I want?
Jenni: This is a bad idea.
Zach: Come grab a drink with me. Five minutes.
I thumb down the conversation. The messages keep going. All implying they’re meeting up. My chest tightens, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
Was he lying?
“I know it’s hard to see,” Jenni says softly, moving to sit on her bed.
“But it’s been going on for weeks, Honey.
It started at Hail Mary’s when he—” She breathes in and then lets out a shaky breath.
“When he kissed me in the hallway. I pushed him away. I told him no and I’ve been trying to shut it down since, but last night he just—” She presses her hands to her face. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I don’t say anything. I just keep reading the messages, my stomach twisting, but something doesn’t feel right. This doesn’t sound like Zach. He doesn’t talk like this.
I scroll up, looking for more context, but all the messages are short.
Wait.
My thumb hovers over the contact name at the top of the screen.
Zach
I click it.
The contact info loads.
And when I see the last three digits of the number I realize I’ve been played. I’m a fucking fool.
“This isn’t his number.”
“What?” Jenni’s head snaps up.
“This number.” I turn the phone toward her. “It’s not Zach’s.”
“Do you really think he’d use his personal phone to send these?”
“He wouldn’t do this.”
“He would.” Her face shifts—just for a second—before she recovers. “Honey, you're not thinking clearly. You're upset and—”
“Call the number.” My voice is steady now. “If it’s him, he’ll answer.”
I click the green call button and hear the ring.
It rings once. Twice.
“The number you have dialed is not in service—”
“Honey, please let me explain.” She reaches for the phone.
I pull it away, scrolling to her recent calls.
“There's nothing here. No calls from this number. No FaceTime. Just texts.”
“Because he knew better than to—”
“Stop lying to me!” The words rip out of me, louder than I've ever been with anyone. “You faked these. You made a fake contact and sent yourself messages so you could—”
She lunges for the phone.
I twist away from her reach, and my thumb accidentally swipes on the screen. The messages app closes.
Behind it, another app is open.
HushLine.
My heart stops.
I immediately recognize the first message.
Your golden boy's game isn't for another two days and you really think he's spending the night talking to the boys? That's cute.
I scroll through the thread, my hands starting to shake. I recognize every single one.
Check the location share, Honey. Or don't—denial looks as good on you now as it did when you were in high school.
Told you to check Zach's location. I'm embarrassed for you.
She's just a consolation prize. Isn't she embarrassed?
He's already pulling away from you and you don't even see it.
Message after message after message. All sent from Jenni's phone using this app so they’d show up on my phone as “Unknown.”
I keep scrolling, going back further, watching the messages start right after the first week of school last year. Before I even knew her.
Every fear I've ever had about myself. Every insecurity I confessed to Jenni late at night when I thought I had a friend who understood. Thrown back at me anonymously, designed to make me feel like someone was stalking me, like I should be terrified every time my phone buzzed.
“Give me my phone.” Jenni's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, desperate now.
I look up at her slowly, and the person standing in front of me is a complete stranger. Someone I never knew at all.
“It was you,” I say, my voice hollow. “The anonymous texts. All of them. It’s you.”
“Honey, please, just let me explain—
“Explain what?” I scroll further, my stomach churning. “That you downloaded an app specifically to harass me? That you lied when you said you didn’t know who Zach was? Who I was?”
“I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” Her voice cracks, and she drops her arms. “I just—I saw you together at that first game last year, and you looked so miserable, and he looked so stressed trying to hold you up while managing everything else.”
“So you decided to torture me?”
“I decided to help you both.” She’s crying now, taking deep breaths.
“You’re not built for his life, Honey. The scrutiny, the pressure, the spotlight—it’s eating you alive.
I thought if you realized it yourself, if you saw that you were holding him back, and maybe met someone better suited for you. ”
Chris.
That’s why she introduced him to me.
“I thought you’d leave before he had to chose between you and his future.”
“And then what? You’d be there to catch him?”
Her face crumples, and she doesn’t deny it. “I understand his world. I can handle what’s coming. I wouldn’t fall apart at games or need the constant reassurance or—” She stops herself. “I care about him, Honey. I actually care about what's best for him, not just what makes me feel better.”
The words feel like a stab in my stomach, because there’s a part of me that agrees with her.
I’m not strong enough. I know that.
“Stay away from him.” My voice is cold now, detached. “Stay away from me. Delete the app. Delete my number, or I swear I will show everyone exactly what you've been doing.”
“No one will believe you—”
“Maybe not everyone,” I say quietly, backing toward the door. “But Zach will, and that's all that matters.”
I walk out before she can respond, letting the door slam shut behind me. I make it maybe five steps down the hallway before my knees buckle. I slide down against the wall until I'm sitting on the cold tile, staring at nothing.
Every anonymous text I received came from her. Every moment I felt watched or hunted or like I was losing my grip on reality—she orchestrated all of it. She used everything I told her in confidence, and weaponized it.
All the while she pretended to be my friend.
I can’t believe I actually thought she cared about me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out with trembling hands.
Father: Happy birthday, Hunniford. Still expecting you here 9am sharp. We need to discuss your future at the firm.
Right. The office. I need to be there.
I force myself to stand, smoothing down my blazer even though my hands won't stop shaking.
One foot in front of the other. That's all I can manage right now.
Just keep moving forward even though I don't know who I am anymore, even though everyone I trusted has either betrayed me or I've pushed away.
Just keep moving before there's nothing left of me to save.