Gage wasn’t an ordinary college boyfriend. She’d known that from the beginning, but now shefeltit. Victor’s words meant more after the weekend than they ever could have before.
Because the life she’d imagined—the one with freedom, maybe even detours—might already be closing behind her. And the one waiting wouldn’t be chosen. It would be inherited.
Her laptop’s power warning pinged. She reached for the charger, plugged it in. “Tell me about your placement,” she said to Claire, shifting gears. “Are you still doing ninety percent of the work for zero percent of the credit, or has your supervisor finallyfelt a modicum of shame?” It was easier to ask about Claire’s world than stay in her own. She wasn’t ready to pick at the rest of it yet.
Not the stillness she hadn’t shaken.
Not the kiss on her temple.
And not the way Gage had whisperedthank youlike it meant more than she was ready to name.
The library at St. Ives was the kind of place that made scholarship aspirational. Cathedral ceilings, carved crown molding, and centuries-old solemnity. It smelled like beeswax, leather binding, and just enough quiet panic to remind you everyone knew the stakes.
Her usual spot was much closer to the fireplace, that ludicrous and yet somehow perfect feature in a room full of paper. She normally loved the tranquil theatre of shadows it cast over the floors, which made her feel like she was part of something ancient and important.
But she’d veered away, chosen this table instead. Four-person, in the farthest corner, tucked between the ancient legal archives and a window that barely opened.
She didn’t know what she was avoiding. Or maybe she did, and just wasn’t in the mood to analyze it.
A few women had nodded at her when she walked in, familiar faces from the wine tasting and the black-tie dinner. A man from the military games gave her a faint smile. They’d always looked. Gage King’s girlfriend was impossible not to clock. But after theSummit? Now they looked like theyrecognizedher. Like she’d been placed on a map. Scored. And, apparently, allowed to stay.
Being on show required energy. Which she did not currently have.
She unzipped her bag and pulled out her notes. Macroeconomics. First exam in a week.
She should’ve started earlier. Instead, she was tired, low on iron, and probably shouldn’t mention to Gage that she hadn’t had red meat in a week.
The light filtering through the tall arched window had turned a muted gold, a warning that time was slipping past.
Bea sat back in her chair for a second. Let the library wrap around her. Then she picked up her pen.
Time flew. Twenty minutes, maybe an hour.
Then someone pulled out the chair diagonally across from her.
She looked up—Rafael.
Bea blinked. He didn’t blink back, just nodded once and dropped his bag beside the chair. A dark notebook, a pen, and a textbook followed. He placed them on the table. Then he draped his jacket over the back of the adjacent chair, as if to make sure no one else joined them.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.
Rafael never studied in the library. At least, not that she’d ever seen. But here he was.
He flipped open the notebook, uncapped his pen, like it was a casual, everyday task and not the start of a psychological operation, and started writing.
Bea tried to go back to her reading. Read the same sentence four times. Retained absolutely none of it.
She’d apparently developed superhuman hearing. The sound of him turning pages. The occasional scratch of pen on paper.The inhale when he leaned forward, like thinking required oxygen.
And the way he didn’t look at her. Not once.
Which, frankly, was starting to feel intentional. Rafael was motion, heat, escalation. Always pulling, pushing, doing. And yet here he was, holding still. Choosing to let her be.
That was the part that made her nervous.
The table wasn’t small enough to be intimate. Wasn’t big enough to ignore him, either.
Her foot brushed the outside of his leg when she shifted, and she froze. He didn’t react. Maybe he didn’t feel it. Or maybe he had, and decided to leave her pinned in the silence of it.
