Chapter 12: Loss of Control part 2
1271 Words
“Damn it, Gabriel,” he muttered, as the frustration was already bleeding into his voice. “Tell me she isn’t...”
“She’s eighteen,” I quickly cut in, my tone sharper than I first intended, as a new pause followed. There was no relief evident, just a heavy silence.
“So, she's legally an adult,” Kyle continued carefully. “That’s the only reason this conversation isn’t already a complete disaster.”
I didn't say anything because I knew that wasn’t enough to make this less complicated.
“She came to me,” I continued, forcing my words into something more structured. “She was upset about Tyler, being with someone else... She initiated...”
But before I got to finish, he cut me off.
“Stop!”
His voice was firm.
“Just stop talking,” he repeated, a little calmer, but more heavy than before. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
My jaw tightened, as I clinched the phone.
“I know how it sounds,” I replied, as I tried my best to stay calm.
“Do you?” he continued.
“Because from the outside, it sounds like an eighteen-year-old, shows up at your door emotionally wrecked, and you, what? Comfort her, into your bed?”
“That’s not what happened.” I immediately defended.
“But can you prove that?”
I didn't answer, because the truth was, I couldn’t.
Kyle then exhaled slowly. “You know what this could potentially mean for you, right?”
“I know,” I said with a sigh, but of course, that didn’t stop him from spelling it out.
“It’s not just about legality,” he continued, as his tone shifted into something much colder. “Yes, she might be eighteen, and that protects you from criminal charges under normal circumstances, but this isn’t normal circumstances.”
I leaned against the wall, pressing my fingers briefly against my temple, as he continued to explain.
“First of all, there is the power imbalance,” he went on. “Her, being in an emotionally vulnerable state. Then there is the pre-existing connection through your family. If this turns into a claim, Gabriel, even just an informal one, you’re looking at reputational damage at best,” he stated seriously.
“I already said I know,” I huffed, frustrated.
“And at worst?” he continued, clearly ignoring my response. “Coercion accusations, civil claims, media attention if it leaks. Your name, tied to ‘young’, ‘vulnerable’, and ‘taken advantage of’. That’s not something you can contain easily.”
My free hand dropped.
“I will handle it.”
The words came out automatically, but Kyle didn’t accept it, not even close.
“No,” he stated flatly. “You won’t.”
His response made me frown. “Excuse me?”
“Handling this personally is exactly what you shouldn’t do,” he elaborated. “From a legal standpoint, that would be a mistake.”
“I can talk to her.”
My statement made a heavy sigh leave him.
“Of course you think that.”
“I know her.”
“Do you?” Kyle challenged me. “Because from where I’m standing, you know a girl who was just cheated on, showed up at your door in pieces, and is now gone before you woke up.”
I knew he had a point, but the way he said still hurt more than it probably should have.
With one quick move, I pushed myself off the wall as I started pacing across the room.
“She’s not—” I started, but then I stopped, because what was I supposed to say?
That she wasn't reckless? Or that she was emotionally capable of thinking things through?
I exhaled, as I carefully spoke. “She’s not that kind of person, Kyle.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but he didn’t have to because his silence told me more than enough.
“Gabriel,” he finally spoke, this time quieter and more serious than I had heard before, “This isn’t about what kind of person she is. It’s about perception and context.”
His words didn't sit right with me.
“I'm sure I can talk to her,” I repeated, this time, more firmly. “I can clarify things with her, and make sure we’re aligned.”
“And what if you’re not?” he countered, making me pause.
“What if she regrets it?” he continued. “If she feels confused? Or worse, if someone else gets into her head before you do?”
Once again, I didn’t answer.
Because that was the variable I couldn’t control, and I hated that, more than anything else.
“What you need,” Kyle said, his tone shifting again, sounding colder and more calculated, “goes beyond what a simple conversation can solve.”
I paused for a moment.
“What are you suggesting?”
“You need protection,” he said plainly. “Something formal and binding.”
His words made me tighten my grip around the phone.
“A non-disclosure agreement,” he elaborated further. “Something that makes her unable to speak about what happened without facing legal consequences.”
“She won’t sign something like that,” I argued.
“Then we'll give her a reason to,” he argued back, which settled heavily on me because I really didn't like where it was heading.
“Right now, she has nothing to gain from silence,” Kyle added. “And you have everything to lose. That is an imbalance that needs to shift.”
My jaw clenched from just thinking about it.
“And how exactly do you propose I do that?” I asked.
There was a brief pause on the line before he spoke again.
“Credibility,” Kyle said. “You need a version of events that people will believe in. Something that reframes the situation entirely.”
I knew what he meant. What I needed was a new narrative, something I would be able to control.
Despite everything, my mind started working through different options and outcomes automatically.
None of them clean nor certain, but then, something else surfaced, something uninvited.
A conversation from the day before.
It’s time, Gabriel.
You need to get married.
My father's pressure, my brother's agreement and the strategy behind it.
At the time, it had been nothing more than another obligation, another controlled decision to be made, but now it had shifted.
Aligning with something that could fix everything.
Something able to make last night disappear into something else entirely.
My steps finally slowed to a hold.
“Gabriel?” Kyle’s voice came through. “What are you thinking?”
I didn’t answer immediately because the idea was already forming into something structured. Exactly the way I needed it to be.
“I need you to find her,” I said instead.
“That’s already in motion,” he replied. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
I looked into the empty bedroom, the bed was still unmade just as it was when she left, but it didn't matter anymore, because for the first time since she had left, I felt something settle back into place.
It wasn’t entirely calm, but it had a direction.
“I think...” I said slowly. “I know how to fix this.”
“I’m listening,” Kyle spoke calmly, as he waited for my answer.
“I believe it’s time for me to settle down.”
- Writer
