Page 111 of The Equation of Us
“You were never expendable,” I say, my voice cracking. “I was just too scared to admit how much I needed you.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m still scared,” I admit. “But I’m more scared of never feeling the way I feel with you than I am of whatever challenges we might face.”
Dean studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then slowly, deliberately, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper.
He holds it out to me. “I was going to bring this to your lab tomorrow.”
With trembling fingers, I unfold it. It’s the Archer Initiative notification letter. He’s been selected as the recipient.
“Congratulations,” I say, meaning it despite the twinge of disappointment. “You deserve it.”
“Read the whole thing,” he says quietly.
I continue reading, heart stuttering when I reach the second paragraph:
“In recognition of the exceptional quality of applications this year, the committee has decided to award a secondary grant to Nora Shaw of the Neuroscience Department for her groundbreaking work on neural feedback systems…”
I look up, stunned. “I got a grant too?”
Dean nods. “Not the full Archer package, but close. Whitman told me this morning. They’re creating a special category this year because they couldn’t decide between us.”
“That’s… wow.” The news hasn’t fully registered yet. “But why were you bringing this to me? We haven’t spoken in weeks.”
A hint of vulnerability crosses his face. “Because regardless of what happened between us, I knew you’d want to know. And because I was planning to decline if they hadn’t recognized your work too.”
The admission knocks the breath from my lungs. “You would have turned it down? For me?”
“Not for you,” he corrects. “For us. Because there was no version of my future that felt right if it came at the expense of yours.”
Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not,” he agrees, a small smile softening the words. “But I want you anyway.”
The simple statement breaks something inside me—a wall I didn’t even realize was still standing. A sob escapes my throat, and suddenly Dean’s arms are around me, pulling me against his chest. I cling to him, face buried in his shirt as weeks of tension, loneliness, and guilt finally overflow.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know.” His hand strokes my hair, gentle despite everything. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” I pull back enough to look up at him, needing him to understand. “What I did wasn’t okay. But I promise—I swear—I won’t do it again. I won’t run when things get hard.”
He studies my face, his eyes serious. “I believe you.”
“Just like that?”
“No.” His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “Not just like that. Because I know you, Nora Shaw. When you make a commitment, you follow through. When you say something, you mean it.”
I lean into his touch, starved for it after weeks without him. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” His voice roughens slightly. “Every day. Every minute.”
“Are we really doing this?” I ask, hardly daring to believe it. “Trying again?”
“Yes.” The certainty in his voice steadies me. “But with one condition.”
“Anything.”
