He doesn’t answer.
He just turns and storms out, slamming the door behind him so hard it sounds like a gunshot.
The silence that follows is deafening.
I let out a slow, ragged breath. My whole body shaking now that it’s over.
Leo turns toward me. “Are you okay?”
I look at the floor and nod before I can think better of it. Then, quietly, “I don’t know.”
When I return my gaze to him, Leo’s eyes hold mine for a beat too long. I expect a joke. Some smart-ass comment. Anything to try and lift the weight of what just happened. But nothing comes. Just quiet.
He gives me a long look, then nods once. “You want me to call campus security? File a report?”
“No. He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” I pause. “Not now.”
Leo studies me another moment. And in that moment, I realize something stupid and inconvenient—I’m glad it was him. Not anyone else. Him.
Because he didn’t just defend me. He didn’t posture or yell or make a scene. He de-escalated the situation with calm. With control. With that same maddening confidence he wears likecologne. Leo made me feel safe, where Chase has always felt out of control.
And suddenly, I hate that I noticed. I hate that it matters. I hate that a small part of me wonders what he thinks of me now—after seeing me at my absolute lowest.
“Still,” he says gently, “if you change your mind?—”
“I know.”
A beat of silence passes between us.
Then, with quiet finality, I add, “Thank you.”
He gives a short nod. No fanfare. No lecture. No condescension.
Just quiet steadiness.
Then he turns and walks back to his office—calm and steady—and leaves the door open.
He. Leaves. The. Door. Open. Why is that so important? Why does that make me feel more seen, understood, and cared for than I have by any other man in my entire life?
Lord only knows.
I sit down slowly, my arm still stinging where Chase grabbed me. My pulse should be erratic. My heart should beat loudly. Neither is true. My wrist may still hurt, but every other part of me feels calm. I don’t know what to do with that.
SIX
TORI
Past
“Into your hands,O merciful Savior, we commend your servants, Alexander and Isabelle. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, the sheep of your own fold, lambs of your own flock, sinners of your own redeeming. Receive them into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.”
The priest opens his eyes and raises his hands in invitation, addressing all of us gathered to mourn the loss of two of the best people I’ve ever known. The faint smell of incense mixes with the worn, earthy scent of the pews, and the weight of the sanctuary presses on me from all sides. I inhale deeply, fighting the urge to let my emotions spill over in the quiet room.
“And now, as our Savior Christ has taught us, we are bold to say:”
The congregation stands, the rustling of clothing and movement of feet breaking the silence. Together, we recite,
Our Father, who art in heaven,
