"It's exactly what you said!" Unconsciously moving into his personal space. "You know what I think? I think you're the one looking for an exit strategy. Maybe some of you considered taking that money, and you're projecting your guilt onto me."
It's a direct hit. I can see it in the way he flinches, the way his expression shuts down.
"Get out," he says, voice dangerously quiet.
"What?"
"Get out of this office." His eyes are hard now, all the vulnerability gone. "I'm not having this conversation anymore."
"James—"
"No. You've made yourself perfectly clear. You don't trust me. You think I'd sell you out for money. For connections." Each word is precise and controlled. "There's nothing left to say."
"So that's it? One fight and we're done?"
"This isn't a fight, Caleb. This is you believing the worst of me." His voice cracks slightly on the last word. "I can't do this. Not with someone who's waiting for me to betray them."
The finality in his tone hits me like a physical blow. This is happening. We're really ending.
"Fine," I summon what dignity I can. "I'll go."
"Wait." He stops me as I reach for the door. For a split second, I think he's going to take it all back, that he'll apologize, that I'll apologize, that we'll find our way through this mess.
Instead, he says, "It's better this way. Your father was right about one thing: people from different worlds should stay in their lanes."
The words are so unlike James, so formal and stilted, that they don't sound real coming from his mouth. But the hurt they cause is real enough.
"Goodbye, James." Out into the hallway before anything else can be said.
Only to find an audience.
Drew, Tyler, and Gavin stand awkwardly, clearly having heard at least part of our argument. Drew steps forward, concern etched on his face.
"Caleb—"
Brushing past him, needing to be anywhere but here, away from pitying eyes and the suffocating knowledge that I've lost something precious, something I'm not sure I ever truly had.
"Caleb, wait," Drew calls, following me.
I keep walking through the main room, up the stairs, toward my tiny shared room that is my only safe space. Drew follows, persistent as always.
"Caleb, stop," he says as I reach my door. "Please."
Turning, I'm ready to tell him to go away, but the genuine concern on his face stops me.
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
Such a simple question. Such an impossible answer.
"I'm fine."Absolutely not fine."Just a disagreement."
"That didn't sound like 'just' a disagreement," he says gently. "That sounded like a breakup."
The word lands like a blow. Breakup. Final. Done. Over.
"Yeah, well." The shrug doesn't sell it. Not even close to nonchalant. "These things happen."
