Maybe I was right about Pierce being in the closet. Maybe he got it from his dad, projecting homophobia to fit into this suffocating town. Or, perhaps, it’s internalized. But it still makes me sick that he believes he holds some kind of moral high ground while sitting there threatening to get a colleague fired based on lies. Not to mention sexually harassing a student.
I step into the hallway, heart hammering, chest burning, Professor Grant’s words and lingering touch like poison choking the air around me.
For the first time, I’m not just afraid for Isaac’s job.
I’m afraid of what else Professor Grant might be capable of. What else he might have already done.
By the time I reachmy car, my lungs still haven’t figured out how to work right.
As I drive away from campus, I keep replaying every second in Professor Grant’s office, trying not to think about the way his hand felt on my thigh. But the memory keeps flashing like a warning light behind my eyes. It clings to my skin, leaving a feeling that makes me want to crawl out of it.
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles go white. Something else is nagging at me, shoving its way to the front of my mind.
Something worse than all of it.
The emails.
The emails from Dylan’s address. The one telling me to go to the bridge.
Professor Grant was so sure he knew about me and Isaac.
He knew about Dylan.
He wants Isaac gone.
And he was looking at me today like he already owns my fear.
A cold nausea unravels in my gut, and the world tilts sideways.
If he was the one who sent those emails…
If he was at the bridge that night…
If he was watching me and Isaac…
Oh God.
I swerve onto the narrow shoulder and yank the door open, leaning over and emptying my stomach into the dirt and graveland frozen grass. I cough, heaving until there’s nothing left and my ribs ache.
My breath fogs in the frigid air as the nausea slowly settles. But the dread doesn’t. It sits heavy in my chest like a stone.
I can’t go to Isaac’s. I can’t face him like this, not yet. Not when I’m still shaking and ashamed.
Closing the door, I get back on the road, turning down the next street to head to my dad’s instead. I have no idea how else to stand up to Professor Grant without getting Isaac fired, but I don’t know if going to my dad is going to help after the reaction he had to finding out that me and Isaac were together.
But I have to dosomething.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in front of the door to my father’s study, and this time Iamhesitating.
Taking a shaky breath, I knock on the door.
“Come on in.”
My dad’s voice sounds bemused even through the door, but I can’t blame him when I’ve refused to speak to him for weeks.
I open the door and step inside to see him standing beside one of the bookcases at the back of the room with an open folder in his hands. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve been in his study, but I know when he’s in here it means he’s buried in work.
“Jackson.”
