Chapter 23
“Igot suspended,” I blurt into the phone, my voice cracking a bit with laughter—except there’s nothing funny about this situation, just the sickening reality that my dream job might be circling the drain.
“What happened?” Jake’s voice is full of disbelief, and I hear a chair scraping the floor on the other line.
My stuttering explanation about Tim planting AI-generated images in my work and setting me up for failure tumbles out between sobs, leaving Jake silent for a long moment on the other end.
“Are you sure?” His skepticism prickles against my already raw nerves. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him, but I don’t think he’s smart enough for such an elaborate scheme.”
It must’ve been Amanda, then. Maybe every time I saw him texting, he was receiving instructions from her.
The tears I’ve been fighting back sting at the corners of my eyes. “I’m positive, Jake. They’re up to something, and it’s got to do with the upcoming presentation. Just...be careful.”
“The best way to beat Tim is to win the competition.” Determination rings true in Jake’s voice. “Your campaign idea is brilliant and there’s no way Tim will top that.”
I press my phone harder against my ear as if I could somehow get closer to him. “I hope you’re right.”
“I have a lot to prepare for the presentation,” he says. “I won’t let you down. I promise. And after it’s all over, I’ll talk to Judy about your suspension. I may not be the top dog at Lantern Bridge, but she values my opinion.”
When I arrive at my parents’ house and see my mom standing on the porch, the emotions I’ve bottled up on the bus ride home burst out of me. The sight of her breaks whatever fragile composure I’ve managed to maintain.
“Mom...” My voice disintegrates into a whisper.
Her face transforms instantly, years of maternal instinct kicking in as she opens her arms wide. “Oh, sweetie, come here.”
Crumbling into her embrace, I bury my face against the soft cotton of her shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of her lavender perfume.
Everything I’ve been holding back—the humiliation, the frustration, the burning anger at myself—pours out in ugly, heaving sobs that shake my entire body.
The weight of it all crashes down, my shoulders trembling with each ragged breath.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers against my hair, her hand making gentle circles on my back just like she did when I was small. “It’s going to be okay.”
The rhythm of her heartbeat against my ear slows my breathing gradually, though the tears continue to flow unchecked. We remain locked together for what feels like hours.
Then, she gently pulls back. “What happened?”
“I think I’ve ruined everything,” I say as we step inside.
I sink into the cushions of our worn family couch while, and she settles beside me, her eyes never leaving my face. My story spills out like water through broken dam gates—Jake’s past sacrifice, the suspension, Amanda and Tim’s sabotage, and the crushing weight of my own failure.
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I confess, my voice trembling with exhaustion.
“Part of me wants to just quit and walk away from all of it. But then...I can’t stop thinking about Jake.
” My fingers twist nervously in my lap. “I feel like I’m supposed to help him, but everything I do seems to make it worse. ”
Mom’s hand finds mine, steadying my fidgeting. “You’re carrying a lot on your shoulders, sweetie. But have you stopped to think about why? Why do you feel so responsible for all of this?”
“Because,” I start through sobs, “because it is my fault. If I hadn’t blown up at Jake at the party, if I hadn’t held onto all that resentment...none of this would be happening.”
Mom’s worn hands rub my arm gently. “Blaming yourself for everything that’s gone wrong isn’t going to fix anything.
We all dwell on things that hurt us—as foolish as it may be.
But what’s important is that you recognize it and learn from it.
Mend what you can, and as for the rest, let it fall into place.
It may not seem like it now, but when your heart is true, things tend to work themselves out. ”
Mom’s words calm my ragged breaths. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I was still hurting,” I admit, staring at our intertwined hands. “I was so angry with him for leaving, I never stopped to think about why he did it. I just blamed him for everything.”
Mom smiles softly. “And now you know the truth. You know he wasn’t trying to hurt you on purpose.”
I nod, all my mistakes and misunderstandings coming front and center to my mind. All this time, I’ve been carrying the wrong story in my head.
Mom squeezes my hand, her gentle pressure anchoring me in the storm of my thoughts. “Take some time to decide what you really want. Not what you think you should do or what’s expected of you, but what you want in your heart. Let that be your guiding light.”
Now in my childhood bedroom, I pace restlessly, energy buzzing through my limbs with nowhere to go. The suspension from Lanter Bridge sits like acid in my stomach, burning and corrosive. How could Judy not see through Tim and Amanda’s scheme? The injustice of it all makes my blood boil.
When I close my eyes, I see Jake’s face—not the man I know today, but the boy with sun-kissed skin who used to braid dandelions into my hair during lazy summer afternoons.
I pull out the box that contains the remnants of us. The photos I buried feel different in my hands now. Frozen in time, his smile aimed at the camera is genuine and open, his arm slung casually around my shoulders. My hands shake slightly as I trace the outline of his face.
For four years, I convinced myself I’d moved on, that the ache in my chest whenever I thought of him was just phantom pain from an old wound. The truth is far simpler and freeing: I never got over Jake. I just got better at pretending I had.
Startled by a knock, I shove the photos under my pillow like I’m hiding contraband. “Coming!”
Mom stands in the doorway with a mug of tea steaming between her hands. “Thought you might need this.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, accepting the warm ceramic with both hands. “I think I’ve been lying to myself.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “About?”
“Everything. Jake. How I feel. What happened.” Even as I speak them, the words make me feel lighter. “I spent so much energy being angry at him that I never considered his side of the story.”
A day passes, then another. Dad tries to cheer me up with his terrible dad jokes, and I do my best to smile.
The past two days have been a constant journey through the murky waters of self-doubt. What if I’m not cut out for this? What if my dream job was just that—a dream? My career, the thing I’ve built my entire sense of self around, feels so fragile and uncertain.
I stare out the window at the rustling trees. Perhaps fresh air would help clear my head.
As I walk the familiar path down to the creek where Jake and I used to skip stones across the glassy surface, I imagine the life that could have been had we not broken up.
What could I do to still make that happen? The rushing water doesn’t offer any answers, but the sound soothes my frantic thoughts.
By the time the sun sets on the fourth day, I’ve worn a path in the carpet from my constant pacing. Today’s the day of the presentation. I hope everything goes well.
My phone buzzes with a text from Wendy: Tim stole our presentation! Where are you? She sends a photo of Tim’s slides that look like what we’ve been planning.
My hand flies to cover my mouth. So, this is what they’ve been up to all this time. All the hard work that Jake and Wendy and the others poured into this project…they will look like fools when Jake goes up there next and presents the same thing. My chest wrings as I think about it.
But then hot rage floods my veins. This was their plan all along—present first with stolen ideas and then frame Jake for plagiarism. They’ll probably implicate me too, painting me as the double agent who fed Jake information.
Suddenly, everything clicks into place with crystal clarity. Despite the risk to my already-precarious career at Lanter Bridge, I know what I have to do.
I don’t care that Judy suspended me—I’m going to that presentation.