CHAPTER 32
Lila
I t’s been three days since we came back from Chicago.
Three days since we crossed a line we will never come back from.
Three days since I unapologetically chose myself for the first time in twenty-four years.
Three days since I realized I’m in love with a man who has the power to ruin everything I’ve so carefully built.
“Lili, do you know if Santa is allergic to peanut butter?”
Ike’s voice is almost drowned by the dozen kids running around the common room at the youth center. When I look down at him, he’s wearing one of the Santa hats we surprised them with for today’s party. But his face is a true expression of concern.
I crouch so we’re at eye level. “I’m pretty sure Santa isn’t allergic to anything. Why are you asking?”
“Mommy and I are making cookies for Santa, and I love peanut butter ones, but I don’t know if he’ll like them too,” he explains, making me melt.
My heart cartwheels when a tall shadow is cast over me. I don’t need to look behind me to know who it is.
“Don’t worry about it. Santa will love whichever cookies you leave out for him,” I reassure him.
He nods, convinced. “Yeah, I think so. But maybe I’ll do the chocolate chips just to be sure.”
“Those are my favorites,” Reed rumbles from behind me.
Ike looks up at him before gasping, a finger pointed at him. “You’re not wearing your Santa hat!”
A blush crawls up my neck when Reed rests his hand on my back, helping me stand back to my full height.
“I forgot it in my office,” he says, still touching me. What is happening? “Actually, I came to ask Lila if she can help me find it.”
I send him a look that tells him he’s not being slick. He smirks in return, wordlessly saying he doesn’t really care.
“Ike, do you need anything else?” I ask him, purposely ignoring the menace next to me.
He shakes his head. “No. I’m going to fish for some candy canes now.”
The little boy sprints to the opposite side of the room, where Haniyah is supervising a group of kids attempting to fish some candy canes out of a plastic cup. I had no idea the youth center organized a Christmas party every year, but I can tell all the kids love it. And as a new volunteer, I was eager to help out with all the preparations. I also still help Reed with his workshops—we’re planning a new one on sex education for next month—and I couldn’t be more excited to be back with our group. I’ve found a family here I never want to say goodbye to.
Reed’s warm breath caresses my ear. “Come with me?”
Nobody looks at us as we leave the common room. I have no clue if Reed has told Haniyah about Chicago—it wouldn’t surprise me, and I wouldn’t mind it—but if anyone notices Reed has been affectionate toward me recently, they don’t comment on it.
When we reach his office—now empty since Ginny is staying at dog daycare—he gently cradles my face in his hand, presses me against the wooden door, and captures my lips with his.
There’s a familiarity to kissing him now that no longer feels forbidden. Maybe it’s because he’s not my supervisor anymore or because I no longer care for other people’s perceptions of me, but I swear his lips taste sweeter.
When he pulls away, he caresses my bottom lip with his thumb. “Sorry if I came on too strong, but I couldn’t go another second without kissing you.”
I suck his thumb into my mouth, remembering that night in my hotel room. When his eyes darken with lust, I know he remembers, too.
“What about the Santa hat?” I tease him.
“Fuck the hat.”
“You’re going straight onto the Naughty List this year, Dr. Abner.”
A grunt escapes his throat as he presses his erection against my stomach. “Call me that one more time and see what happens.”
My hands find the collar of his shirt, pulling his mouth closer to mine. “What would you do about it, Dr. Abner ?”
I squeal as he picks me up in his arms and slides my back against the door. It’s second nature, the way my legs wrap around his waist now, as if our bodies have known each other’s for eons.
He rests his forehead against mine. I’m not expecting the change in his voice from rough to soft as he says, “This terrifies me, angel.”
I find the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“Everything.”
“Don’t give me that nonanswer.”
It takes him a moment, but he finally says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Why would you hurt me?”
“Because I don’t know how to take care of the people who are important to me.”
My chest caves in. “Reed…”
“It’s okay.” He places a strand of hair behind my ear so carefully, his words make even less sense. “It has nothing to do with you. It’s my own head that’s fucked up.”
“I get it,” I reassure him. “You didn’t have an easy childhood. But, Reed, you started taking care of me long before you realized you were.”
He searches my gaze with a kind of intensity I’d never seen before. “You’re too good for me,” he whispers. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Stop saying things like that,” I retort. “Let’s just live in the moment, all right? I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but you need to stop worrying about the future.”
“Your dad will kill me.”
I roll my eyes. “My dad will have to accept that his daughter is an adult woman who can do whatever she wants.”
“Your mom will hate me.”
“Same answer.”
Carefully, he sets me back down on the ground and presses his lips to my forehead. “You’re right. My head’s a mess these days.”
He walks up to his desk, but I don’t move. I wonder, and not for the first time, what exactly we’re doing here. And most importantly, what do I want ?
To date him? I swore men off a year ago, when the whole Oliver fiasco went down. Now that I’ve almost graduated—it’s a matter of days before I get confirmation and defend my thesis— my plan is to get my license and start job hunting. That hasn’t changed, and men are still not on my radar.
But Reed…
He’s something else.
He’s Reed . Plain and simple.
He means so much to me, it’s scary to put into words. He certainly means more to me than a one-night stand or whatever we’re doing right now.
I grab my phone when it pings inside my pocket, but I’m distracted. Maybe we should talk about all of this instead of swimming in uncertain waters, always against the current. Does he even see a future with me? Because I’m starting to see one with him.
Reed finishes typing something into his computer. “Your thesis defense date?” he asks.
I give him a nervous smile as I fiddle with my phone. “Maybe.”
He knows I’ve been stressed about it because Warlington University doesn’t allow students to defend their theses unless they’ve passed all their courses. In true Reed fashion, though, he insists I have nothing to worry about. A part of me believes him, but another…
I stop.
It’s an email, but it’s not about my thesis defense.
I scan it once, twice, five times, because my brain refuses to take in the words.
“Lila?”
My hands start shaking.
My phone makes a loud noise as it falls to the ground.
Rushing steps.
Firm arms holding me.
“Lila, what’s wrong?”
I can’t speak.
I can’t.
Reed picks up my phone.
Scans the email on the screen.
And mutters, “Fuck.”
Fuck, indeed.
Because in just a second, all my future has gone down the drain.
Dear Lila Callaghan,
Good afternoon. This is Kelly Russo, Dean of Psychology at Warlington University.
At your earliest convenience, please stop by my office so we can discuss the results of your internship with Dr. Reed Abner. At this time, the grade of your internship is [UNSATISFACTORY]. Therefore, you do not meet all requirements necessary for graduation.
I would like to discuss with you the alarming reason why your internship was deemed unsuccessful.
Best,
Kelly Russo
Dean of Psychology
I read the dean’s email over and over again, but the contents don’t change.
I don’t wake up, either, despite this feeling like a cruel nightmare.
“Wha-What does she mean by alarming reason?” I stammer, my body shaking from head to toe as if I were standing in the middle of a blizzard. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You didn’t,” Reed says firmly. “Your internship results were immaculate.”
Tears start rolling down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying. “I-I can’t graduate. She said it.”
“Like hell you won’t graduate, Lila.” His firmness has been replaced by anger. “This doesn’t make any sense. Come on. I’ll drive you to her office now. I was your internship supervisor; I’ll gladly list all the reasons why she shouldn’t fail you.”
I don’t try to convince him to stay here with the kids or tell him that I can handle this on my own and drive to campus myself.
Because I can’t.
Because the future I was so sure was mine a minute ago is now gone.
And something tells me I won’t get it back.
***
Campus is hauntingly deserted as I follow Reed into the Psychology Hall, the oxygen in my lungs getting scarcer with each step I take.
What will my parents say when they find out I’m not graduating this month?
What could that alarming reason Dean Russo mentioned be?
Nausea hits me when we get to her office. Reed knocks once, not bothering to wait for an invitation before he walks in. I feel like a mere spectator in my own life right now. A very unfortunate one.
“Dean Russo,” he greets her. His voice has an angry edge to it I’ve never heard before.
The dean looks up from a stack of papers, her eyes widening through her glasses. “Dr. Abner. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I came to review my student’s internship grade,” he adds, that anger visibly seeping out of his every pore.
I step slowly into her office, terrified of the person I’ll be once I leave, and shut the door behind me. “Hi.”
“Miss Callaghan, hi.” Dean Russo’s bright red hair glints under the fluorescent lights of her office. “Take a seat. You, too, Dr. Abner. I was about to email you also.”
I don’t utter a word as I sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Reed sits on the other one, his knee brushing mine in what I’m assuming is a comforting gesture. Too bad I’m about to throw up all over his shoes.
“I’m concerned about Lila’s internship grade,” Reed starts. “I’ll be frank with you—she’s the best intern we’ve ever had at Warlington Youth Center. I struggle to believe her results didn’t meet the university’s criteria because I supervised her myself.”
“That’s precisely what brings us here,” she says.
If I thought I was going to get sick before, it’s nothing compared to the punch to the gut that hits me when Dean Russo turns her computer monitor in our direction.
And shows us a picture of Reed and me at a bar, the night of Mariah’s birthday. He has his arms around me, hugging me so I wouldn’t fall when Karla accidentally pushed me into him.
No, no, no.
I know what this must look like to Dean Russo because it looks like it—me pressed against my supervisor’s chest, his arms around me, gazing into each other’s eyes in the middle of a crowded bar.
My head starts spinning.
“This picture isn’t what you think it is,” Reed argues, his voice even and sure while I fall apart. “We saw each other by chance. I was there with my friends, and she was with hers. We didn’t meet up. Someone tripped and pushed Lila; I was only holding her upright so she wouldn’t fall.”
Despite it being the truth, the concern in Dean Russo’s face tells me she believes none of it.
“It’s not just this picture that has landed in my inbox, Dr. Abner,” she says solemnly.
A few clicks later, she shows us three more.
Reed and I getting in his car after leaving the youth center together.
Reed with his arm around me as I held Ginny the day we found her.
Reed walking me out of his house the morning after I spent the night with him and Ginny.
Nausea swirls in my stomach, and I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t burst into tears.
“I’m sure you understand why this is concerning,” Dean Russo starts. “These pictures don’t showcase a traditional relationship between a student and her academic supervisor. It gives me the impression that your relationship may go beyond strict professionalism. For that reason, the department has decided that Miss Callaghan will have to retake her internship module next semester, just to make sure her results are true and fair, thus postponing her graduation until further notice.”
“No.” Reed’s firm voice echoes in the room. “Absolutely not. These are baseless accusations. You’re relying on pictures with no context behind them—any academic board would agree with me. This isn’t reasonable, Kelly.”
She adjusts her glasses over the bridge of her nose. “I’ll admit it’s our fault for not considering your relationship with Miss Callaghan’s mother before accepting her internship request, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
With my mother.
“My working relationship with her mother has nothing to do with Lila’s internship grade,” Reed argues. “You’re familiar with her academic accomplishments long before I started collaborating with this university. You can’t possibly disregard that.”
“I’m not,” she argues back. “All I’m saying is, these pictures suggest Miss Callaghan may have had some…advantages in her internship. Possibly. We’re asking her to retake her module with someone else just to make sure. You know how important it is for this university to offer every student the same advantages. We’re doing you both a favor by sweeping these pictures under the rug as long as you agree to our demands. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that involvement with a professor is enough for a student to be expelled.”
It’s that last sentence, the accusation in it, that finally makes me snap.
“Dr. Abner keeps all the reports I’ve worked on during my internship, as well as recordings of all sessions I’ve participated in,” I start, my voice firm, despite my hands shaking. “Anyone can go over them and decide whether I deserve to fail my internship. As for those pictures, they don’t prove an explicit affair between us. Any lawyer would agree with me.”
I really hate pulling the lawyer card, but what else can I do?
Dean Russo wasn’t expecting that turn of events, if the surprise in her eyes is any indication. It’s as if she expected me to submit and not defend myself at all.
I don’t turn my head to look at Reed, but I can feel his eyes on me.
After a brief pause, she lets out a tired sigh. “Despite what you may be thinking, I don’t want to be the bad guy here. Dr. Abner, you know your work with us over the past three years has been invaluable, and your reputation precedes you. Miss Callaghan, your reputation as a student is also remarkable. You’re a top performer at this university, and I know how important it is for you to graduate as soon as possible.”
I can feel a but coming.
“But I can’t ignore these pictures. Students and professors shouldn’t spend time together outside campus, let alone at a professor’s home. I understand this was an internship, so you had to spend some time together, but this behavior is… It doesn’t look appropriate. I have to ask you, and I expect full honesty so we can take care of the situation in a way that benefits us all. Are these pictures true? Have you ever been romantically involved?”
A charged silence falls over the room, and my ears start ringing.
Reed’s knee brushes against mine, telling me all there is to know.
This was my greatest mistake.
“Yes,” he admits.
A single word.
A lifelong sentence.
“Just to clarify, Dr. Abner. Have you and Miss Callaghan ever been involved romantically? Or are you currently?”
“Yes,” he repeats. “Not when those pictures were taken, but lines have been crossed recently.”
The older woman stiffens, directing her gaze at me. “Was this consensual, Miss Callaghan?”
“One hundred percent.”
The last thing I want is for those kinds of rumors to follow Reed around when he’s everything but.
Dean Russo sighs. “This isn’t an ideal situation, as you can imagine. The pictures I’ve been sent may not depict a romantic relationship at the time, but the point is that you were involved at some point; perhaps you still are, and that is an issue.”
“I’ll send my resignation letter by the end of the week.”
I turn to Reed, my heart beating with alarm, but he isn’t looking at me.
“Now, Dr. Abner—”
“I would never want to taint this university’s reputation,” Reed continues. “I was aware of the risks when I decided to get involved with a student. I’ll be happy to resign as long as you consider having an external committee review her internship grade.”
“Reed—” I start.
His hand lands on my knee for a brief second, and he gives it a squeeze before he draws back.
Dean Russo pauses, her eyes following Reed’s movements.
“Thank you both for your honesty,” she dismisses us. “I will bring this information forward to the board and let you know when we reach a satisfactory decision.”
In other words—goodbye to my dream of becoming a youth counselor.
Because who in their right mind would want to hire someone who got involved with a professor?
Just like those pictures magically appeared in Dean Russo’s inbox, word will get out about this on campus. I’ll forever be the girl who slept with her mother’s professor friend.
Breathing becomes an arduous, unbearable task. Before I know it, I’m up from my seat.
“Thank you,” I think I mutter to Dean Russo.
My body doesn’t feel like mine as I leave her office without permission or as I rush down the hallway or as I hear Reed call my name or as a familiar hand grabs my arm.
“Let me go,” I growl, yanking myself out of his grip.
My voice doesn’t sound like mine either.
Regret shines on his face. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lila. I handled it as best as I could. I had no idea this would happen.”
I shake my head. I know it’s bad when the tears don’t even come—my burning anger has evaporated them all.
“This was a mistake. All of it.” Rage blinds me, not caring who gets burned in its wake. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let a man ruin my life again. But I was careless, thinking nothing would happen because I felt safe with you. I made an exception for you because I…”
Because I fell in love with you.
“Lila.”
He makes a move to close the distance between us, but I step back.
“I’m not even mad at you,” I say truthfully, my breath uneven. “I’m angry at myself for having such low self-worth. I should’ve known better than to get involved with a professor and jeopardize my future like this.”
I can’t believe I’ve let a man ruin me again. The stupid realization that I can’t go back in time to fix this makes me want to scream, to yank out my hair.
I wish I’d never met him.
“Don’t resign,” I grit out. “Don’t do it for me. You resigning won’t make me graduate on time; you don’t need to be the hero.”
“I’m resigning because it’s the right thing to do,” he argues back. “You failing your internship because of me isn’t right. That’s what I’m fighting for.”
“I don’t want you to fight for me.” My voice sounds louder now, but I don’t care that we’re in the hallway where anyone can hear. Not anymore. “Don’t you get it, Reed? Nothing good will ever come out of us being together. Nothing . We are a mistake. I… I can’t do this anymore.”
My hands start shaking again. I hate that my stomach falls as Reed’s face does.
“All right,” he says, his voice quieter than I’ve ever heard it.
Whatever guilt I feel for being so harsh with him, I choke it to death. It doesn’t matter that he showed me what it’s like to feel worthy, to be healthy, to be happy in my own skin. It. Doesn’t. Matter.
Why didn’t I stop this when I had the chance?
Who even am I?
I thought I didn’t recognize the Lila who lost her temper and slashed Oliver’s tire, but this Lila, the one who threw all caution to the wind for a professor… She’s a total stranger.
We don’t say goodbye.
We don’t exchange another word as I look at him for the last time and leave the Psychology Hall with a shattered heart.
It isn’t until I’m inside an Uber that the first tears start falling quietly.
And it hits me who sent Dean Russo those pictures.