I bark a laugh and pocket my phone. “Lesson learned. Lessonmastered.”
Orok stretches his arms out for a hug. He’s blocking the hall, and he knows it.
“I’m being held hostage.”
“Yes. Hug me, dumbass.”
I fall into the center of his wide chest. His thick arms pull me in and my breath leaves my lungs in an unsteadywhoosh.
When I was sitting at the grant banquet,knowingthey’d announce that Elethior got it, I remember thinking that I’d have to go to my dad to ask for the money instead. Iwouldn’t,but somewhere in the back of my mind, that’s been the ghost of a safety net. Still is, I think. Or itwas,until this moment, when I feel the impossibility of me ever asking him for support. Even if he’d give it, with his own messed-up stipulations, I wouldn’t ask.
If I go to the party tomorrow, and tell the grant committee I haven’t taken any steps toward doing theone thingthey asked me to do, and they pull their funding…
I’ve got nothing.
The anger worsens, rising, anger at myself, at my dad, at this situation.
“Shit.” I back away and try to wiggle around Orok, but he’s still playing immovable object in the hallway. “Dude. Let me go.”
“You’re not going back to the lab. I’m serious, Seb; your work ethic isn’t sustainable.”
“I’m not going back to work.”
He stares at me.
“I’m not going back to workmuch.” Okay, that’s a lie, too. Maybe Elethior’s still at my lab—ourlab, our ourour—and I can,ugh,revert to my original intention and extend an olive branch, and the two of us can half-ass a plan in the fifteen or so hours until the cocktail party.
I can hear Dad’s disappointment if I get pulled from the grant. How I failed again. Howexpectedmy collapse was because I’m all dramatics and overreacting.
I wince and see I’ve pushed my sleeve up to gouge my nails into the back of my arm, crescent moon arches purpling into bruises.
Orok bats my hand away. “Seb—”
“Please let me leave.” I look up at him, not afraid to let him see that I’m not, actually, okay. “I promise, I’ll take a break after this.” Maybe.
He holds for a beat.
But he steps aside, and after grabbing my shit from the table and tossing a few bucks to cover my cut—and dodgingare you okayquestions from Ivo and Crescentia—I race to the lab.
When I burst through the door, Elethior’s not there.
I slam into the chair at my desk, dig out my phone, and start to type up an email to one of the committee members, Davyeras maybe, to ask for Elethior’s contact info, but—
Anyone I ask is going to want to know why I don’t already have it. Why Elethior and I have been working together for aweek,but I don’t know his number.
“Fuck,” I bark at my desk.
Maybe Elethior’ll stop by the lab tomorrow before the party. That’ll be good, honestly. It’ll give me time to cool down enough to extend a truce.
My fingers rub absently over the swollen marks on my arm and I manage a deep breath, like Orok taught me. In, hold it; out, slow.
All the breaths I’m taking make my lungs burn.
I’m breathing too much, too deeply. That’s the reason my body feels like it’s stuffed with embers, packed full of debris, waiting, waiting, waiting for something explosive to set it all off.
I’m fine. I have a plan.
It’s allfine.
