But I can’t stop. Won’t stop. “Emma’s gone. And yeah, it’s fucking tragic and unfair and wrong. But my family? They’re here. They’realive. And they need help now, not some symbolic victory against corporate America.”
“How could you?” Her voice shakes. “How could you use Emma like that?”
“Because someone needs to say it!” I’m practically shouting now. “You’re so caught up in fighting the good fight that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. My dad can barely work. Mom’s killing herself with extra shifts. Meg’s talking about giving up college to stay home and help them out. But I guess that doesn’t fit into your crusade, does it? So fuck you for accusing me of not caring just because I’m not living up to your impossibly high standards! You can’t bring her back, Alex.”
Alex stares at me, shock and hurt warring on her face. “How…how could you?” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“Because it’s the truth,” I say, my anger deflating, leaving me feeling hollow. “My real, living family needs me. And if that means taking a job you don’t approve of, then so be it.”
The silence that follows feels like a living thing. Part of me wants to take it all back. But another part, the part that’s been struggling with this decision for weeks, feels a twisted sense of relief at finally saying it out loud. Alex looks at me like she’s seeing a stranger, and maybe she is. Maybe this is who I’ve always been — the guy who’ll do whatever it takes to protect his family, even if it means becoming the villain in someone else’s story.
Before either of us can say anything more, a smooth voice interrupts us.
“I hope I’m not interrupting?”
We spin around to find Dr. Reeves in the doorway, wearing that snake-oil salesman smile that never reaches his eyes.
“Dr. Reeves,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly rough. Fuck. “Just discussing our project.”
“Indeed.” His gaze slides between us like oil on water. “Quite the... passionate discussion.”
Alex straightens beside me, switching to her perfect-student mask despite the storm I can still see in her eyes. “Ironing out some details, sir.”
“Of course.” He steps into our space like he owns it. “Your presentation and poster have both impressed the students and staff. Including myself. Quite the... innovative approach to rehabilitation.”
“Thank you, sir,” Alex mutters.
His smile sharpens as he turns to me. “Speaking of innovation, Freddie — given any thought to our discussion?”
Alex goes absolutely still beside me. I can feel her eyes burning into me, but I keep mine locked on Reeves. “Yes, sir. Still... considering everything carefully.”
“Excellent.” He practically purrs the word. “It’s quite the opportunity. Not many students get to make a real impact so early in their careers.”
The emphasis he puts on ‘real impact’ might as well be a knife between my ribs. The air feels electric with tension.
“Well,” he continues, playing oblivious like the practiced bastard he is, “I’ll let you get back to your... discussion. Looking forward to grilling you on your poster when you’re back out there.”
The silence after he leaves feels like it could suffocate us both. I turn to Alex, my heart in my throat.
“Alex—”
She holds up a hand. “Don’t.” Her voice could freeze hell. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll finish this project because we have to. We’ll be professional, we’ll get our grade, and then we’re done. No friends, no...” she falters for just a second, “...nothing else. After that, lose my number.”
She gathers her things with mechanical precision, not looking at me. At the door, she pauses. “Congratulations, Freddie.”
ALEX
NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – MAY
The gentle whir of my laptop fan is the only sound breaking the midnight silence of my apartment. I blink, my eyes dry and strained from staring at the screen for hours. The GSRI application form glows back at me, a digital representation of my dreams—and right now, my obsession.
“Just a few more tweaks,” I mutter to myself, reaching for my long-cold cup of coffee. The bitter liquid makes me wince, but I welcome the jolt of caffeine. Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford right now.
“Alex?” Tara’s voice, thick with sleep, startles me. She’s standing in the doorway of my room, hair mussed and eyes squinting against the harsh light of my desk lamp. “It’s 2:00 a.m. Are you seriously still working on that application?”
I force a smile, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. “Just finishing up some details. Go back to sleep, I’m fine.”
Tara frowns, not buying it. “You said that yesterday. And the day before. When was the last time you actually slept?”
