Chapter 25 - Jackson
I’ve never hated the walk across campus more than I do today. Despite the biting cold, my palms won’t stop sweating.
It’s been a week since Isaac and I reported our relationship to the university, and it feels as though the ground hasn’t stopped shifting under my feet since. The investigation opened immediately considering I was in Isaac’s class a mere six weeks ago.
I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself if I cost Isaac his career.
As I enter Old Main, I reach up to touch the chain around my neck. I find myself doing that a lot, but I especially need the feel of it now to ground me, to help ease the nerves that are cranking up a notch with every step toward the office of Professor Grant.
The man spearheading the investigation into our relationship.
Even if this doesn’t go the way we want, I don’t know if I can regret anything that’s happened between us.
These past six weeks have been perfect. I haven’t officially moved in with Isaac, but he definitely makes it seem like he never wants me to leave.
He gets this soft look whenever I’m in his space, like he was holding his breath for years and only figured out how to breathe after I arrived.
I love when we cook together, when we do nothing but cuddle on his couch and watch movies, when he fucks me like he owns me.
But…let’s be honest.
He does.
Just being with him makes me happier than I knew I could be.
Still, there’s a part of me that sometimes feels like I’m intruding on his life.
I brought up going to a hotel or sneaking into my dad’s guesthouse to give him a few days of peace if he needed it.
He became guarded, telling me it was okay with him if that’s what I wanted to do.
But I could tell it’s not what he wanted.
I don’t mind that he has abandonment issues. I’ll help him work through them. I’ll prove to him that I won’t disappear.
He’s afraid I’ll leave.
I’m afraid he’ll want me to leave.
Maybe there’s a reason we found each other.
Maybe we’re exactly what each other needed.
I haven’t seen my dad at all since Christmas Eve, though I’ve at least responded to a few of his texts just to let him know I’m okay. But I don’t know when I’ll be able to have a conversation with him about the fact he’s kept a brother from me my entire life.
Shaking those thoughts away, I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans as I approach Professor Grant’s office.
As nervous as I am, I’m looking forward to all of this being over. I’m tired of hiding. I want to be able to go out on actual dates. I just have to get through this first, this interview that I expect a lack of questions and a lot more accusations.
Considering I’m determined to go in there and not let this guy intimidate me like he did last time, I force myself to knock the second I’m standing in front of his door.
I won’t hesitate, and I won’t show weakness.
“Come in.”
I open the door and step inside, closing it behind me.
Professor Grant doesn’t even look up from his computer screen as he motions to the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Ellis.”
I really wish I didn’t have to. My ass is still sore as hell from last night—courtesy of another round from Isaac’s crop—that it hurts like a bitch every time I’ve had to sit down today. But I know I won’t get away with standing, so I take a seat, biting back a wince.
After sitting there for several seconds, the only sound that of his keyboard as he types, he still hasn’t looked at me. I know exactly what he’s doing, well aware of the tactic he’s using. He’s trying to sweat me out, but I won’t let him. I wait patiently.
“Sorry about that,” he says, finally turning to face me about two minutes later. “I had to get that email out before five.”
“No problem.”
“We’ll keep this quick, Mr. Ellis. The tenure committee always wants to make sure that any relationships formed between staff and students isn’t because anyone is abusing their position of power.”
I lean back in the chair and shrug. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem. He used to be my teacher, sure, but he’s not anymore. He didn’t abuse anything.”
Except my ass last night.
Not that I’m complaining. And not that that’s what I should be thinking about right now, but it’s difficult with how much said ass hurts.
“Still, sometimes we’re forced to do investigations, which is exactly what I intend to do. The reputation of the university must also be taken into account.”
“The school allows these kinds of relationships, so unless we started ours while he was still my teacher—which we didn’t—then there shouldn’t be an issue.”
“There’s that, sure. However, there are…other things to consider as well.”
Something heavy and unpleasant settles in my gut at the tone of his voice. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Mr. Ellis, that I will find evidence. And when I do, Professor Kendall will undoubtedly lose his tenure. And his job at this university.”
It must be an inherited quality, speaking in a way that makes it all too easy to read between the lines. I noticed that pretty quickly about Pierce, and now it seems his daddy has the same habit. Whether it’s intentional or not, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter.
“You mean you’ll fabricate evidence?”
He shrugs, his eyes cold. “If that’s what I have to do to protect the reputation of this school and this town.”
“We weren’t together while I was enrolled in his class.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
The answer is in the dread that was creeping up on me, not something that hits me all at once.
“It’s because we’re both men.”
This time, it’s not a question.
“You know the temperature of this town as well as I do. So very few people here are accepting of that kind of…lifestyle.”
He stands and rounds his desk, coming to sit in the empty chair beside me. His knee brushes mine.
I tense.
“This is what’s going to happen, Mr. Ellis.
I’m going to give you two choices. Either you end your relationship with Isaac Kendall, or we will find evidence that he abused his power and pursued you while you were his student.
He’ll lose his tenure. His job. And he’ll never be welcome to teach at another school in this country ever again. ”
My skin crawls as I stare at him, wishing this was a nightmare.
“You’re blackmailing me?”
“I’m giving you a lifeline. I suggest you take it.”
This time, something does hit me all at once.
“Are those the same choices you gave Dylan Ross?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” he says without falter. “Although, you do remind me of him. All bright-eyed and eager.”
And then his hand drops to my thigh.
Not my knee.
Higher.
Heavy and intentional.
A jolt of revulsion hits me so hard I go cold.
“You could do very well here, Jackson. You’re charming. Intelligent. People like you thrive. If they make the right alliances.” His thumb moves, gliding in a slow arc through the denim of my jeans. “Dylan thought Isaac was that person, and look where that got him.”
I’m frozen. I can’t fucking move.
His touch lingers, and bile burns the back of my throat.
My stomach twists and turns and knots into something hardly recognizable.
My tongue feels numb. The room feels too small.
His cologne, the scent sharp and chemical, is like something rotten prickling my nose.
There’s a faint hint of cigarette smoke beneath it that makes my stomach do another somersault.
I force myself to move before I can vomit, shoving his hand away as the chair legs scrape harshly against the floor when I push back.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
“So dramatic.” He smiles, as if this is all a game. “You’ll come to your senses. They always do.”
They.
Meaning Dylan.
Meaning others?
Meaning this isn’t the first fucking time.
“So what’s it going to be?”
There’s no way in hell I can give this slimeball what he wants. I can’t let Isaac get fired for me, but…fuck. What am I supposed to do? How do I fight against a man who holds so much power?
“I’ll think about it,” I say, my voice tight and small.
“Of course. I’m sure you’ll make the right choice, Mr. Ellis.”
I stand and head to the door without looking back. If I stay another second, I might do something that really would get Isaac fired.
Like hell I’ll think about it.
Maybe I was right about Pierce being in the closet.
Maybe he got it from his dad, projecting homophobia to fit into this suffocating town.
Or, perhaps, it’s internalized. But it still makes me sick that he believes he holds some kind of moral high ground while sitting there threatening to get a colleague fired based on lies.
Not to mention sexually harassing a student.
I step into the hallway, heart hammering, chest burning, Professor Grant’s words and lingering touch like poison choking the air around me.
For the first time, I’m not just afraid for Isaac’s job.
I’m afraid of what else Professor Grant might be capable of. What else he might have already done.
By the time I reach my car, my lungs still haven’t figured out how to work right.
As I drive away from campus, I keep replaying every second in Professor Grant’s office, trying not to think about the way his hand felt on my thigh. But the memory keeps flashing like a warning light behind my eyes. It clings to my skin, leaving a feeling that makes me want to crawl out of it.
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles go white. Something else is nagging at me, shoving its way to the front of my mind.
Something worse than all of it.
The emails.
The emails from Dylan’s address. The one telling me to go to the bridge.
Professor Grant was so sure he knew about me and Isaac.
He knew about Dylan.
He wants Isaac gone.
And he was looking at me today like he already owns my fear.
A cold nausea unravels in my gut, and the world tilts sideways.
If he was the one who sent those emails…
If he was at the bridge that night…
If he was watching me and Isaac…
Oh God.