Chapter 30 - Isaac
It’s twenty minutes to five, that quiet pocket of the afternoon when campus starts to empty and the halls outside my office hold that soft, hollow quiet before it goes silent for the night.
The sky outside my window is that late-winter blue, still pale but warmer than it used to be with spring approaching.
My desk is littered with essays, not even half of them graded. I haven’t been able to concentrate since my last class ended. Actually, I haven’t been able to concentrate for most of the day. Not since Jackson’s text this morning.
Jackson: You’re never going to believe what just happened. Don’t worry, it’s good! Just very unexpected. I’ll come by your office after my last class. Maybe we can get some coffee before going home.
Home.
My eyes lingered on that one word for a while, an automatic smile stretching across my face in the middle of the hall while I was on the way to my classroom.
Then the rest of his message registered.
It’s not that I’ve been filled with any kind of trepidation all day, just some pretty intense curiosity.
I’ve learned so much about Jackson these last couple of months, and that’s one of the habits I’ve noticed he has—teasing me with a mystery he can’t yet share. I don’t think he does it on purpose. He just gets so excited about things, says he has something to tell me, but waits to do it in person.
As frustrating as it can be sometimes, it’s also kind of adorable.
Jackson’s class should’ve let out about ten minutes ago, so he should be here soon to finally tell me whatever it is that happened this morning.
I keep looking up to check the open doorway, feeling my pulse spike a little when he’s not there.
Every now and then, I still have to remind myself not to worry.
Jackson is safe.
He’s here.
He’s mine.
Another word that hits me square in the chest.
And I’m still trying to earn that, trying to be the man who deserves someone like him. He makes it easy to believe I can be. He reaches for me when he’s nervous or seems haunted by memories. He sleeps curled around me at night or me around him. He trusts me to be there when he needs me.
He trusted me before anyone else did.
But now they know.
Now the entire town knows that I wasn’t the one who hurt Dylan, that wherever he is now, he didn’t run because of me.
It was the absolution that I had been longing for for five years, one that Jackson figured out a way to get for me. I never would’ve asked him to pay the price he did for it, but I’ll spend the rest of my life honoring that debt in whatever ways I can.
The investigation into our relationship was dropped as well since Richard had been the one to open it in the first place. His motives didn’t survive scrutiny.
And then there’s Elijah.
Knowing a little more about what happened to him that night all those years ago doesn’t bring me any closure.
I honestly don’t know if having some idea of it makes it better or worse.
I wish there was more I could do. I wish I could call him and tell him justice had been served, that the man who hurt him won’t hurt anyone else, that maybe he could even come home if he wanted to.
That there will always be space for him here.
But the truth is, I’ve lived too long with the certainty of his absence to hold faith in his return.
Nothing’s really changed.
So I’ve let it go.
I’m trying to be better about not being a prisoner to the things I can’t change.
For once, it’s nice to not have to worry about anything more detrimental than getting this stack of papers graded and deciding what Jackson and I are cooking for dinner tonight.
The floor creaks outside my office, and my heart hitches in recognition before I even see him. My head jerks up as there’s a soft knock on my door. Jackson leans in, cheeks pink from the cold and hair ruffled like he hasn’t bothered to tame it all day.
He smiles when he sees me. I was already smiling the moment I heard him, but it brightens in response to his.
As he enters the room and closes the door behind him, I stand and round my desk. We meet in the middle of my office, our arms quickly finding their way around each other. I hold him to me and press a kiss to his temple.
“You’ve held me in suspense all day, sweetheart,” I say as I take a step back and meet his gaze. “Are you going to tell me what happened this morning?”
“I uh…” His brow dips like he still can’t believe it. “I ran into Pierce.”
My jaw tightens. “Did he—”
The rest of the question dies in my throat as my heart rate stutters and my shoulders tense. My gaze flies over Jackson, searching for bruises or blood or anything out of place. But there’s nothing.
I swallow hard. “What did he do?”
“He apologized.”
I blink. And blink again.
“Pierce Grant apologized to you?”
Jackson lets out a breathy, disbelieving laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. He apologized for being an asshole and said he doesn’t want to be like his father. It was like…he was trying to rewrite himself in front of me.”
I take my previous step back, standing in front of him and watching the wonder on his face, the way it softens something in him that had been tense all week.
“And how does it feel to create change, Mr. Ellis?” I ask as I run both my hands down his arms.
He shrugs as his cheeks flush a light pink. “I guess not everyone is beyond redemption after all.”
“No. Not everyone is. And isn’t that a beautiful thing? That there still might be hope for some people?”
As we stand there with the sun dropping low outside, shadows long across the floor while the world starts to quiet for the night, Jackson frowns. It’s faint, barely tugging at the corners of his lips, but I know why it’s there.
Even if he’s not sorry for it, I know he doesn’t like that he had to do it.
Richard Grant was never going to change, and we both know it.
“But as I’ve said before, we can’t hope to change everyone, Jackson. We can’t save them all as much as we might wish we could.”
His hands come up, and he places his palms flat against my chest. “I hate that we’ll probably always be fighting against the Professor Grants of the world.”
“But you proved that you’re more than capable of fighting them. And also that we can’t always fight them alone.” I place my hands over his. “‘Hold my hand in yours, and we will not fear what hands like ours can do.’”
Jackson’s smile comes back with a slight crease of his brows. “Wait. Is that…?”
Keeping hold of one of his hands, I reach behind me with the other and slide the crimson, leather-bound book of Babylonian epics and poetic texts that Jackson gave me for Christmas across the desk so he can see it.
“The Epic of Gilgamesh. I’ve been rereading it.”
He shakes his head with an affectionate grin. “You’re such a nerd.”
I raise a brow. “And you’re not?”
“Yeah, but you love it.”
Staring into his eyes, I feel my heart swell in my chest. “I do,” I tell him as I bring my hand to the side of his neck. “I love you, Jackson.”
His eyes glisten until they’re shimmering emerald pools. My soul is ready to leap right into them, not caring if I sink or swim, prepared to get lost in them for all eternity. I hold onto him a little tighter even though my fear of him disappearing has vanished instead.
“I love you too, Isaac.”
“Good. Because I’m never letting you go.”
I trace his mouth with my thumb, then kiss him like the world has finally stopped trying to break us.
He tastes like hope, like everything I never believed I deserved.
Our hands find each other on instinct, holding tight—proof that we’re writing a different ending, one that’s finally ours.
One where we both get to stay.