Chapter 8 Willow
WILLOW
I guess I’ve always known that people with money, power, and privilege live a different life from the one I’m used to, but getting things done with Olivia at my side really drives home how true that is.
After finishing breakfast, the first thing we do is drive to my campus.
As soon as we get there, I feel a pang of longing. It’s surprising how much I’ve missed it since the brothers decided I wasn’t allowed to go back.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask my grandmother, turning to look at her as we walk toward the dean’s office. “I’ve missed a lot of classes, and I know that’s not something they’ll just let slide.”
Olivia just smiles at me, her chin held high. “You’re a good student from what you’ve told me. And the school exists to serve good students. We’ll make this right.”
My stomach twists with nerves. I’m almost certain that the dean is going to tell her that there’s nothing he can do, that I’ve missed too much and wasted my chance here. But it’s clear Olivia doesn’t mean to take no for an answer.
“The dean is very busy today,” his receptionist tells us when we walk in. “He’s not taking walk-ins.”
“We have an appointment,” Olivia says crisply. She’s polite, but her tone makes it clear she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.
“Name?” the woman asks, pulling something up on her computer.
“Olivia Stanton.”
If the woman recognizes the name, she doesn’t show it, but she nods when she finds Olivia’s name on the list of appointments for the day.
“Ah. My apologies, Mrs. Stanton,” she says. “Just give me a moment.”
She gets up and goes to tell the dean that we’re here, and a few minutes later, we’re shown back to his office.
Dean Carmichael has a reputation around campus for being the no-nonsense brain of the school. He gets things done, but people rarely see him—unless they’re being kicked out or receiving some kind of accolade.
Olivia breezes into his office like she owns the place, settling herself into one of the leather-covered chairs across from his desk and motioning for me to sit in the other one.
“Mrs. Stanton,” Dean Carmichael says. “How may I help you today?”
His gaze flickers over to me for just a second, but then he looks right back to Olivia, making it clear who he thinks is more worth listening to here.
I guess he’s not wrong.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Olivia says. “This is my granddaughter, Willow Hayes. She’s a student here.”
The dean looks back to me and then goes to type something on his computer, probably pulling up my file. “I see.”
“Due to some unfortunate and unforeseen circumstances, my granddaughter had to miss more class than she would have liked at the end of this past semester. I’m here to see what we can do to get her back on track.”
I have to work hard to keep my expression blank and neutral. Unfortunate and unforeseen circumstances is definitely one way to put it. Olivia hasn’t asked for the specifics of what kept me out of school, and I haven’t offered too much of an explanation. And I’m grateful she hasn’t pushed for more.
I’ve already told her a good amount of the truth about my life and how things have been since I was adopted, but I really don’t want to get into everything that happened with the Voronin brothers. That’s just… a whole different level, and a part of me wishes I could forget it all myself.
“Usually, when someone has missed as much class as Miss Hayes has, they have to retake the semester,” the dean says, steepling his fingers. “She didn’t complete her final exams for any of her classes, according to the records here.”
“I understand that.” Olivia nods once. “But that isn’t an acceptable solution.”
“It’s the only one we have.”
My grandmother smiles, and it’s still polite and refined, but there’s a sharper edge to it. “So you’re telling me that if a student had to miss class because of an illness or a death in the family or some sort of emergency, then you would force them to retake an entire semester’s worth of credits?”
Dean Carmichael blinks, clearly not used to people challenging him. “Well, not always. Of course not. But those are extenuating circumstances.”
“Ah, so then you’re implying that the reasons my granddaughter missed classes aren’t good enough to allow her to make up what she missed?”
For a second, he seems at a loss for words. I get the sense that if he were talking to anyone else, he might say that her vague reasoning isn’t enough. But something clearly gives him pause when it comes to arguing with my grandmother.
So he switches tactics.
“What would you suggest, Mrs. Stanton?”
Olivia folds her hands in her lap. “You have a summer school program, yes?”
“Yes,” he allows.
“Willow will take classes this summer then. She’ll make up for what she missed and can start next semester with no penalties.”
I have to stop myself from openly gaping at her. She radiates so much confidence that it’s almost impossible to imagine the dean denying her request.
And in the end, he doesn’t.
After glancing at me one more time, he finally nods. “Alright. As long as she keeps up her attendance this time, we can allow her to make up what she missed over the summer. But she’ll need to register for classes right away. The summer session starts very soon.”
“Of course.” Olivia gives him a pleased smile.
We leave his office and go right to the registrar’s building, where my grandmother makes sure I’m signed up for all the right classes.
She prepays my tuition as well, overriding my protests with a reminder that she’s making up for all the years when she couldn’t spoil me the way a grandmother is supposed to.
And it doesn’t stop with her getting me back into school either.
A couple of days later, we go to tour apartments, and she tells me to pick the one I like the best and not to worry about how much the rent costs.
Every single one makes the apartment I’ve been living in look like a hovel, and as strange as it is to have this kind of freedom to choose a place without stressing about money for once, it’s also kind of fun.
I use the knowledge I’ve gained from watching home improvement shows to pick one with the kind of amenities and features I’ve always dreamed about, and we sign the lease that same day.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, standing in the living room. It’s still empty for now, but full of potential. “I’ll have to get up earlier, since it’s a few more stops away from campus, but it’s so worth it.”
My grandmother frowns. “You’ve been taking the bus to school?”
I nod, and the next thing I know, we’re in her car, heading to the nearest car dealership.
“Olivia…” I say as we trail behind an eager salesman who can clearly spot money when he sees it. “This is too much. You’ve already done so much for me. I’m fine taking the bus, I promise.”
“I’m not trying to buy you, Willow. Or win your affection with gifts.”
“No, I know that. I only mean that you don’t have to spend so much on me. I can’t ask you to do this.”
She reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You aren’t asking, so you don’t need to worry about that. This will hardly break the bank for me. Remember what I said? Consider this twenty-two years of missed birthday and Christmas presents. I just want to make up for lost time.”
There’s something wistful in her tone, and I know she’s probably feeling guilty for not being around before. She wasn’t able to help me when I was struggling, and that probably weighs on her.
It feels strange to have someone care so much, after so many years of basically having to care for myself, but I’m grateful for it. For her.
We’re still strangers in so many ways, but we’re starting to get to know each other more and more every day, and I like that.
I end up with a sleek silver car and a bunch of new furniture for my new apartment by the end of the week.
It feels so weird to park in a lot and not have to worry about my stuff getting stolen, but every time I walk into the new apartment or sleep in the bed with the plush new mattress and sheets, something warm spreads through my chest.
Is this what it means to have a family? To have a safety net?
A few days after moving in to my new apartment, I go back to school to start my summer classes.
The campus is much emptier than it usually is, since most of the students are gone—either off working their summer jobs or on vacations or visiting their families.
Of course, the first group I see when I pull up to park my car is April and several members of her little clique, walking across the lot, talking and laughing.
Fuck. I didn’t think she’d be taking summer classes.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised though. She’s got a competitive streak a mile wide, so if this helps her get ahead of other students, no wonder she’s here. Plus, it’s not like she has to work a summer job like I would have if my circumstances hadn’t changed.
Taking a deep breath and resolving to ignore her and her posse, I slide out of my car and press the button on the key to lock it.
The beep gets April’s attention, and she glances over at me. For a second, her gaze passes over me and I can tell she doesn’t realize it’s me. But then it hits her, and her eyes widen almost comically.
I look a lot better now than I did last time she saw me, all things considered. The bruises around my neck have mostly faded and are covered by makeup, and I’m wearing nicer clothes, bought for me by Olivia. I’m walking away from a nice car, and my head is held high.
April nudges one of her friends hard in the ribs, and they all turn to gape at me as I walk past them.
“What the hell happened to her?” April murmurs to one of her friends, and I’m still close enough that I can hear it. “Am I hallucinating or something, or is that Willow Hayes looking halfway decent for once?”
“Maybe she got a good job,” one of them guesses.
“Yeah, right. She probably had a relative kick it and give her all their money,” another says, and they all laugh at that.
“Holy shit.” The first girl lets out a gasp. “That’s not that far off, actually. Check out this article I just found.”
Slowing my steps, I glance over my shoulder as April and the others cluster around the girl and her phone.
“Cold case solved. Missing member of the Stanton family reunited with matriarch,” April reads out loud. She glances my way, and I quickly start walking again, pretending I haven’t heard her.
“That’s her picture,” one of her friends point out. “That’s Willow.”
“No way.” April scoffs, her voice growing more faint as I leave them behind. “That’s insane. The Stantons are one of the richest families in the fucking state. There’s no way a nobody like Willow is one of them.”
Whatever else they say gets lost as I follow a pathway around a building, heading toward my first class. Nerves twist in my stomach, and I chew on my lip as I glance at the few other random students walking nearby.
All of this still feels like a dream. Having a rich grandmother—hell, having a grandmother at all—feels like something I could wake up from at any moment and find myself back in my shitty apartment, living my shitty life.
I shake my head as I reach the building where my first class will be held, slipping into the room and settling down in a seat. It’s quieter than it would be if it was the regular semester, and I’m grateful for that.
When I walk down one of the rows, my cheeks flush as I remember sitting in this same room and Malice walking in like he owned the place, even though he stood out so completely.
I was sitting in the back, and he…
No.
Nope.
Don’t go there, Willow.
I refuse to think about Malice and the things he did to me while he was sitting next to me in this room. I won’t think about his hand sliding between my legs, or the way his fingers…
Fuck.
My face is hot all over again, and I shake my head to clear it, letting out a messy breath.
It’s a good thing there’s like one other student in the room right now, and he has his headphones on.
I don’t need anyone else to see me blushing about something that happened in the past and will never happen again.
I don’t want to think about Malice. Or any of them.
I need to focus.
Being back in school feels so good. It’s one thing I missed the most when I was living with the guys, and I’m so grateful to Olivia for making it possible for me to make up my classes.
It’s always meant a lot to me, this dream of graduating with a good degree and changing my life for the better.
It’s going to be my ticket to freedom from the shit I grew up with, a way to leave it all behind and become someone better.
It’s not hard to throw myself back into it, taking notes and listening to lectures and feeling normal for the first time in weeks.
Once classes end, I head back to my car and drive to my new apartment, feeling good. I hum along to a song on the radio, grateful that I don’t have to take the bus or worry about a drug deal going down outside my building when I get home.
After taking the elevator up to my unit, I unlock my front door and step inside.
I’m about to head toward the kitchen, thinking about reheating some leftovers for dinner, when movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
I glance toward it, and my heart stops.
Malice is standing in the middle of my living room.