Dr. Gleeson doesn’t even try to disguise his reason for saying no. “It’s political suicide to go against the older faculty members, and you know that, Colton.” He places his elbows on his knees, leaning toward Colt’s desk in a waythat seems intentionally designed to cut me off from the discussion. “We’re both tenure track. Why are you taking this risk?”
Guilt settles in my bones. Hearing another faculty member so blatantly call out how dangerous this is makes my stomach roil.
Colton places his forearms on the edge of his desk, mirroring Dr. Gleeson’s stance. “I have every intention of getting tenure when the time comes, which means I’ll spend my entire career on this campus. Whywouldn’tI choose what’s best for the place I’m going to spend the next fifty years?”
Dr. Gleeson stares down Colton for a solid minute, weighing what Colt said against what he knows about campus. A wave of hope rises in me. He’s considering it—genuinely considering it, not just humoring Colton—and if we can get him, maybe we can get enough people to make it work.
Then he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
He gets up without so much as a goodbye, squeezing past my chair. The soft click of the door closing behind him feels like thunder ringing through the office. Colton lets out a frustrated sigh.
It isn’t going to work. All this planning and stressing and hard fucking work is going to be for nothing. I’ll be laughed out of the auditorium, and I’m going to take Colt down with me. He won’t get tenure and will have to start over from scratch at another school. Who knows where he’ll land. His new university could be across the country and I’ll never get to see him.
“We need to call it,” I say to Colton’s ceiling.
“You’re right,” he says, and my stomach drops.
I’ve been waiting for this, the moment when he decides I’m not worth sticking his neck out for. He’s been so steady, and I started to believe he’d remain that way forever.
But everybody has their limits, and it would seem I’ve found Colton’s.
“It’s been a long day,” Colt says, stretching as he stands frombehind his desk, a tempting sliver of skin appearing above his waistband. He walks over to the door Dr. Gleeson escaped through, flipping the lock on the door. “And you deserve a night to relax.”
I blink back tears when I realize him agreeing to “call it” meant for the day, not the program.
“No,” I say, the word embarrassingly wobbly. “I meant this plan. We’re banging our heads against the wall.”
Colton walks across the room to me, taking the seat Dr. Gleeson vacated, pulling it so our knees knock just like on the Janiculum Hill when I was ready to give up this summer. “It’s not doomed.”
“Colt,” I say with a pathetic little laugh, “We’ve met with six professors and haven’t gotten a single yes. All we’re doing is negatively impacting the way the professors view you. There are over fifty other universities in Boston. I can find something else and still stay close.”
Colton tugs my hand, pulling me from my seat and into his lap. Determination is etched on his strong face as his hands find my waist. “We’re not giving up. If you need a break, that's fine. I’ll handle it.”
The air rushes out of my lungs. “What?”
“You’ve been taking these hits for eight years by yourself. You’re exhausted, but I know how much you love it here. Let me fight for the both of us until you feel strong enough to fight again. If it doesn’t work out, then we can talk about a plan B.”
Those pesky tears are back again.
“I think I need a hug,” I squeak. “Can I have one?”
Colton smiles softly, and it sets off a riot in my chest. “Always.”
His hands slide from my waist around my back, anchoring me to him like he always does. The calm to my chaos. I twine my arms around his neck and lay my head on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart, as strong and reliable as the man before me. His chest swells against my head as he takes in a deep breath, andI turn my face into his chest in a futile attempt to hold back the tears.
“I don’t want to tap out,” I say into his shirt, “but if we’re not giving up, we at least need to changesomething.What we’re doing isn’t working.”
He hums, the sound vibrating through my body and down to the tips of my toes. “You need a champion.”
I tilt my head so my chin was on his chest. “A champion?” I ask skeptically.
He gives me that little half smile. “Every queen needs one.”
I laugh and push on his chest. “I already had two incredible knights. And as valiantly as you fought, the war still seems to be lost.”
“I didn’t say you need another knight. I said a champion. Someone so strong that people will think twice before issuing a challenge because they’ll have to go through them.”
The likelihood of finding someone who will instill fear and awe in the Billings facultyandwho will be willing to stand beside me is infinitesimally small. It’s so unrealistic it’s almost laughable.
