A broken sound tore from my throat before I could stop it. Hot tears spilled down my face, silent at first, then shaking, choking sobs that left me gasping.
The room blurred, the walls closing in, and still I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.
I’d been sosure, so god damn sure he knew about the program. I hadn’t even given him the benefit of the doubt. I’d had that conversation with the Academics Association, and I’d just jumped right in with both feet. The only person whose involvement Ihadn’tdoubted was mydad.
My freaking dad, who was the reason I was so god damn miserable in the first place. Not Dante, who had been more honest with me than I had with him.
I hadn’t trusted Dante’s integrity. At all. But why? Because of one overheard phone call and the fact that he was hiding a prescription bottle that wasn’t his? Had I really allowed my father’s prejudice that football players were bad news to push me to make such a colossal mistake?
I’d made such a mess. I needed to stop crying, but I couldn’t; they just kept coming anyway.
I knew I was falling for him — and I knew I had just broken his trust, and I didn’t know how to fix it. But he’d been playing me too.
Which was worst?
Now I didn’t know what to believe.
I just knew I couldn’t stay in the shed. These walls were my refuge. My secret. Only tonight, it felt like even this place was broken open.
I looked around the place, and it was a mess. My gloves, I’d thrown down when he came in, when I was so full of righteous anger. I snorted in contempt at myself.
I saw the betrayal in his eyes. The anger he didn’t hide in his voice — low, rough, cruel.Snakes.
The mess around me was easier to face than the mess inside me. I needed to do something with my hands, but I didn’t trust myself to touch my sculpture. I started cleaning — stacking shards of glass into neat piles, sweeping iron filings into the trash, coiling wires into circles tight enough to hurt my palms. If I could put the chaos back into order, maybe I could stop shaking.
By the time I finally locked the shed, my face was wet, my hair damp with sweat and tears. I walked back across campusunder the weak glow of the streetlights, hugging myself against the cold.
All I wanted was my bed, to curl up, shut out the world, and let the ache swallow me whole.
My phone rang, and I dug for it in my bag in desperation, hoping it was him.
It wasn’t. It wasn’t even my dad.
It was worse.
I answered with nothing left to lose. “Mother.”
“Savannah, your father called me. He’s very upset.”
“So he thoughtyou’doffer me comfort? Jesus, he really is delusional,” I scoffed.
“I see.” Did she just sigh? “He said you were being difficult, but as usual, Maxwell likes to sugarcoat things, and instead, you’re just being childish.” Her sniff was as dismissive as her parenting skills.
“You done?”
“Savannah, I’m very busy. I took time out of my surgery schedule to talk to you. You could at least pretend to listen.”
“I’m the only person in our family who isn’t a fluent liar, Mother. So, I’ll make this easy for you: go back to your surgery or whatever colleague’s bed you crawled out of, I have nothing to say to you.”
“Your father and I have anopenrelationship, Savannah. You’re old enough to understand that—”
“No,” I cut in. “I understand you’re a cheating bitch, and Dad is married to your job title. You both need therapy. Or better yet, a divorce.”
I hung up.
My dad had calledherto talk to me? Yes, hanging up on your parents was childish, and I was sure she would come off that call believing she’d wasted her time, and not give a damn I’d called her names. Because she only heard what she wanted to hear.
Dad caught her having an affair years ago. He asked her to stop. She said no. He asked her if she could be discreet. She said yes. Somehow, they’d negotiated that into something they both called a marriage. I’d stopped trying to understand it.
