Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
The shift is immediate as I step onto the faculty office floor, like the air itself knows I’ve arrived. The faint hum of conversations stalls, and silence ripples outward in waves, aimed straight at me, as tension crawls over my skin.
Of fucking course.
I had hoped working from home yesterday would help the whispers die down, but apparently not. I knew leaving the conference would cause waves, and now I’m walking into the storm. But I have a lecture this afternoon, so I’m about to find out if I sink or swim.
“Cade?” Omar’s voice sounds behind me as I make my way down the hall.
I glance back to see him in his doorway, wearing an expression of some impossible blend of irritation and concern, looking like he hasn’t yet decided whether he wants to dress me down or save me.
“A word?” He steps aside, gesturing into his office with an invitation I know I can’t decline.
I sigh, shift the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder, and walk in. He shuts the door behind us, and I sink into the chair across from his desk.
“I assume you know what this is about,” he says, lowering himself into his seat and folding his hands on the desk in front of him like the disciplining department head he’s supposed to be right now.
I nod once and just stare back at him. If he wants to have this conversation, I’m not going to do it for him.
His elbows land on the desk as he crosses his arms and observes me with a look that says he doesn’t actually have the stomach to rip into me. Caution is dulling the edge of whatever he’s trying to bring into this conversation, and concern is taking centre stage.
“Cade,” he starts, his voice softer than I expected. “I’m not going to sugar-coat this.”
Really.
“I’ve been worried about you for a while now.” His eyes drag over me like he’s taking inventory of my damage. “But lately… with the Basin Kings…” He exhales sharply, as if the words taste sour in his mouth. “What’s going on?”
A muscle in my jaw tightens. “So you brought me in here to dissect my personal life?”
His gaze hardens. “When it affects your work, yes.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Then say what you mean, Omar. You’re pissed I walked out of the conference.”
“That’s part of it,” he admits, leaning back. “But it’s more than that.”
I flick my hand towards him with a gesture for him to go on. “Do tell.”
He pauses for a moment as he seems to gather himself.
“Cade… You’re brilliant. You do excellent work, and you’re a valued member of this department.
But to bring a member of the Basin Kings onto this campus, and into this space, and leave your responsibilities to go with him?
” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t add up. Are you ok? Do you need help?”
My gaze shifts past him to the large window at his back. The clouds hang heavy today, dark and ominous as they threaten to burst. But raindrops dot the glass in a half-hearted drizzle, like they can’t quite follow through with that threat.
When my eyes find Omar’s again, the concern etched in them is impossible to ignore. He’s furious I ditched the conference, but underneath all that, he’s just worried. And he’s using the conference as a reason to talk about the bigger issue at play here.
I’m not ok.
But that has nothing to do with any of this. And I don’t need help.
“Omar,” I say calmly. “We both know my work is not affected. My students are supported, my lectures are delivered, and I advance research in my field. I bring in funding, I meet deadlines, and I play the part.” I push to my feet, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I look down at him.
“What I do beyond these walls, and what I do with the Basin Kings, isn’t yours to manage.
If you do want to hang me over one conference, then call it what it is. It’s optics, not substance.”
I pause, giving him the space to tear me a new one if that’s what he needs to do.
But he just stares up at me, with a war playing out behind his eyes, telling me he doesn’t know what to say or do.
Perfect.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say, turning towards the door, “I have responsibilities to fulfill.”
As I grab the door handle, I expect him to stop me and throw out one last attempt at a lifeline.
But silence remains.
So I pull the door open and head into the hallway… and try to ignore the sting of disappointment.
“So when the potential barrier is infinite, the particle doesn’t tunnel. It doesn’t transmit, it doesn’t even try. It stays confined.”
I click to the next slide and pick up my mug, taking a long drink of straight rum. It burns down my throat, and finally, the buzz starts to kick in. I set it back on the table and sigh as an infinite potential well lights up the screen.
“Here, the particle is trapped with absolute certainty. No probability of escape, no matter how much energy is thrown at it. It ricochets endlessly between the walls, remaining trapped.”
A hand lifts in the front row, and I sigh again, pointing at the confused-looking girl.
She tentatively lowers her hand while watching me. “Uh, sorry, I… was just wondering, doesn’t the particle still technically have energy inside the well?”
For fuck’s sake, did I not already say this?
I click back to the previous slide and point at the diagram of the standing waves. “These are quantized energy states. The particle always has energy, but it’s locked in here. That’s the point. What wasn’t clear?”
Her eyes widen as they dart between me and the screen, and she just shakes her head and lowers her eyes to her computer.
I turn and grab my mug again, draining the last of it. I need this day to hurry up and fucking end.
As I turn back to the room to continue drilling information into the half-asleep students staring back at me, I pause.
How long has he been here…
Alder sits in the same seat he was in the last time he showed up here, sprawling into it like he owns the whole row, with his arm hooked lazily across the back of the chair beside him. His eyes are fixed on me, with his brows drawn together, carefully observing me… like he’s looking for something.
I clear my throat as I shift my gaze away from him and click forward to the next slide.
“This is where the particle spends most of its time. The peaks are where it exists, and where you can actually find it. And between those peaks are the nodes, which are gaps of nothing. Regions where the probability of finding anything is zero.” I pause for a moment as my eyes roam over the slide, taking in the nodes and noticing the way my pulse rises a bit with each one.
“And without those peaks, where the wave actually rises… It’s like nothing exists at all. ”
Turning back to the class again, I look right at Alder.
His head tilts slightly, waiting for me to say what I’m going to say.
“But a wavefunction with no peaks that’s just flat and empty… means there’s nothing alive in it. There’s nothing to feel.”
His chin lifts a little as he watches me, and his brows furrow more.
“So without at least one peak, the entire wavefunction collapses into nothing. It has no presence, and no existence at all.”
Alder’s features soften slightly as his gaze zeroes in on me, attempting to strip away every layer I keep between myself and the world. And for a moment, I let him. I let him see straight through me.
I stay silent while my pulse hammers until I notice a few students turning to follow my line of sight.
“Class over,” I say, quieter than I intended.
But they heard me, and they quickly start packing up and filing out the door.
When the last shuffle of footsteps fades and it’s just Alder and me in the room, an exhale leaves me that feels like it’s been building for days.
Alder doesn’t move from his seat, still sprawled out and watching me with the same observant expression like he’s studying me.
“What?” I snap, my voice cutting through the empty room.
His lips twitch into a smile, and he rises smoothly to his feet.
He doesn’t speak as he slowly makes his way down the steps, his boots echoing through the space.
When he reaches me, his hand immediately fists the front of my shirt, pulling me forward as his mouth crashes to mine.
His tongue pushes hard past my lips as I automatically open for him and he devours me like he’s fucking starving.
My head tilts back, and my heart thumps as I let him in, breathless already as I try to keep up.
“Fuck, baby, I missed you,” he murmurs when our lips part.
I just stare at him, taking in the bags under his eyes and the urgency woven into every line of his body.
His gaze flicks to my empty mug on the desk as his tongue runs along his bottom lip, then snaps back to meet mine again.
But he doesn’t say anything.
“Come on,” he says, jerking his chin towards the door as he turns.
I watch him stride away as my pulse picks up its pace into a hammering mess. I try to tell myself to stay here, to hold the ground I just fought to keep in front of Omar. For me to be responsible, and for him to stay out of my fucking way.
But the thundering in my chest drowns it all out.
Nothing else matters.
So I shove my computer into my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and follow him out into the dim light of the hall.
Neither of us says a word as we push through the doors and head to the parking lot, where the air is damp and heavy, and the grey clouds hang low, still threatening to split open.
When we reach his bike, he passes me a helmet. But before I can lift it onto my head, my gaze catches Omar standing at the physics building’s entrance, arms crossed and eyes fixed on me.
I don’t look away as I lower the helmet onto my head and snap the strap into place. Then I swing my leg over the back of Alder’s bike, and the seat vibrates beneath me as he revs the engine. The rumble quickly swallows every thought I could have formed about staying.
My arms slide around Alder’s waist, and the instant I’m holding onto him, he takes off, leaving everything behind us in a blur.
Just how I like it.