Chapter 37
Dante
The knock came just as I’d convinced myself I didn’t give a damn.
I’d been sitting on the edge of my bed, still in my clothes I’d pulled on before I walked Sav back to her dorm, scrolling mindlessly through my phone like the screen, not reading anything. The fight. The whispers. The weight of a shoulder that still wasn’t right.
And her. Always her.
Another knock at the door, harder this time. My jaw flexed. Noah and Dust never knocked like that. Which meant it was either a coach, or—
I opened the door.
Savannah stood there, coat zipped to her chin, cheeks flushed red from the cold, eyes brighter than I’d ever seen them. And completely pissed off.
“What happened?” I asked, voice low, steady, even though my pulse jumped hard enough to sting.
“Can I come in?” she asked instead. No hesitation, no forced smile — just words pressed tight with something that sounded a lot like desperation.
I stepped aside quickly. “Of course.”
She brushed past me, the door clicked shut behind us, and suddenly it was just her and me in the quiet again.
I led her to my bedroom, closing the door behind us. She didn’t sit. Didn’t even take off her coat. She just turned to me, jaw set like she was deciding where to start.
“Sav?” My voice roughened without my permission. “Talk to me.”
She didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stood there in the middle of my room like her feet were nailed to the floor.
“My dad knows,” she said finally, voice clipped, words shooting out like she had to rip them free before they strangled her.
I stilled. “Knows what?”
“That I’ve been with you. That I’ve been seeing you.
That I—” Her breath hitched, sharp, and she pressed her fingers to her temple like she was trying to hold something in.
“He knows everything, Dante.” She kept her eyes steady on me, but I could see she was shaking.
“He was waiting for me in my dorm when I went in.”
The silence between us turned razor-thin.
I stepped closer. “And what did he say?”
Her laugh was brittle, splintering. “What do you think? That I’m wasting my future on football players.
That I’m throwing away the degree he practically handpicked for me.
That art is . . . stupid. And you—” Her throat worked, like his words still burned there.
“That you’ll ruin me. Just like he says this program ruins everyone. ”
The pulse in my jaw hammered. Every muscle in my body wanted to break something. But I kept my tone level. “And what do you think?”
Her eyes shot to mine, sharp and wounded all at once. “I think I’m tired of being told what to think.”
Something inside me — something I’d been gripping tight since the second I first touched her — snapped. I closed the space between us in two strides, close enough to feel the heat rolling off her, close enough to see the way her hands trembled even though her chin stayed high.
“Then stop letting him tell you,” I said, low, my voice rough. “Stop letting him decide who you are, Savannah. Because he doesn’t know you. Not the real you, the you that you let me see. That you showed Dust and Noah earlier. Stop hiding who you really are, because Sav, you are amazing.”
She sniffed, rubbing her forehead. “I’m already sleeping with you, you don’t need to flatter me,” she mumbled.
“God, you say I’m infuriating.” I cupped her cheeks, dropping a soft kiss to her downturned mouth. “You are amazing, Savannah Cole. Do not let anyone else tell you anything different.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, then snapped shut. Her nails dug crescents into her palms.
“What else did he say?” I pressed, letting her go, sensing she needed space.
“I told him I hate my degree, that it’s a degree he picked, that I wanted to do art.” She looked away. “He reminded me art doesn’t pay the bills, and I said I didn’t care, that I wanted to be happy.”
Shit. “Wow. I’m impressed. That took guts, Sav, real guts,” I complimented her. “Did he listen?” I asked her, hoping to all that was holy that he did.
She hesitated, shoulders straight but voice cracking on the edges. “He heard me,” she said carefully, and I noticed the emphasis on heard and that she didn’t mention listen. “And he said that maybe I don’t even belong here anymore.”
For a second, I thought I’d misheard. Then the meaning sank in, sharp and ugly. My whole body went hot. “He said that to you?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Yup, almost word for word. Like I’m some charity case riding his coattails. Like the only reason I’m here is because of him.”
I cursed under my breath, raking a hand through my hair. “Jesus Christ. He doesn’t get to say that. He doesn’t get to fucking say that to you.”
“Dante . . .”
“No.” I grabbed her hands before she could shrink back, holding them tight against my chest. “You belong here more than most of the people walking this campus. You’re smarter than them.
Stronger. You’re top of your class while juggling my ass and your father’s bullshit.
You don’t just belong — you own this place. ”
Her throat worked, her lips trembling even as she tried to hold steady.
I cupped her face, thumbs brushing away the tears she didn’t want me to see. “Look at me. He doesn’t get to decide where you fit. He doesn’t get to tell you who you are. That’s yours. Only yours. You hear me?”
Her laugh was hollow. “That’s not how it feels. Not with him breathing down my neck. Not when I’m hiding everything that matters just to keep the peace.”
“You mean how your art isn’t just a hobby.”
Her gaze snapped up to mine. “How do you—”
“You think I didn’t notice?” I asked quietly. “That look you get when you talk about it? I’m not blind, I’ve seen you in the shed.”
She flinched, like I’d laid her open without permission.
“You belong here, Savannah,” I went on, voice low, steady. “Not because of him. Not because of me. Because you earned it. Because you make this place better. And if he can’t see that, fuck him.”
Her breath hitched again, softer this time, like I’d knocked something loose.
“I told him that as long as I was still a student here, then Dean Cole could see himself out.”
Jesus Christ, why was her father not holding her up as an example of someone to be proud of? This is who he needed to be showing off to his donors and alumni, not that wallflower he insisted she be.
“You’ve got me,” I said, softer now. “You’re not doing this alone. Not school. Not your dad. Not this.” I bent down and pressed my mouth to her forehead, lingering there. “You’ve got me, you’re not alone in this.”
Her eyes searched mine, wide and vulnerable, and it gutted me.
She let out a shaky laugh, muffled against my chest as she folded into me. “This is an awful lot for a new relationship, isn’t it?” she murmured, resting her cheek on my chest.
“Yeah,” I muttered into her hair. “But I don’t think either of us would expect it to be boring.” I kissed the top of her head. “I’m yours. You’re mine. So he can take his lectures, his threats, and shove them.”
We stood like that for a few minutes, and I held her close, offering the comfort she needed.
She pushed back slightly, her eyes uncertain. “I know this is a bit forward, but can I stay the night?” Her teeth worried her bottom lip. “I just, I just don’t want to—”
“I already have you wearing my practice shirt and nothing else, Sav, don’t take the dream away from me.”
She smiled, and it made her look even more beautiful. “You’re . . .” She reached up on her tiptoes, kissing me lightly. “Thank you.”
She settled against my chest again. “You’ve no idea what I’ve imagined doing to you in my bed wearing that shirt.”
She let out that broken laugh against my chest, but it was shaky, and I felt every tremor run through her. I just tightened my arms around her, keeping her anchored.
She stood back, taking off her jacket and her boots. She sat on the edge of my bed, a little uncertain, but when she saw me looking, she moved back with more confidence.
“I’m just going to text Dust and Noah you’re here. I don’t want them to get a surprise if you get up in the middle of the night.” I looked back at her as I reached for the door handle. “You want a water or anything?”
“Water, please.”
I texted my friends she was here, and why. Both told me to let her know they were on her side, pissed off on her behalf.
When I came back into my room with her bottle of water, she was where I left her.
I slipped into the bathroom and changed into my sleep shorts, and when I came back out, she hadn’t moved.
I took a seat beside her on the bed, wordlessly pulling her into my side, loving how easily she soaked up my comfort.
“You know what pisses me off most?” I said, my voice low against her hair. “He acts like you’re fragile. Like you’d crumble if he didn’t keep you in a box he could control. But I’ve seen you, Sav. You’re steel. You’re sharper than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Her fingers clung to mine, but she didn’t say anything.
“And yeah,” I went on, “sometimes steel bends. I’ve seen you do it. It takes a hit and leaves a dent. But it never breaks. Just like you.”
She tipped her head back to look at me, eyes glassy but fierce. “You really believe that?”
I brushed my thumb across her cheek, slow and steady. “With everything I have.”
Her breath hitched, and she sagged into me, her weight settling like she’d finally let herself stop holding the world up. I caught her easily, shifting us until we were stretched out on my bed, her curled against me like she belonged there — which, Christ, she did.
I pulled the blanket over us, one hand stroking slow circles across her back while her breathing evened out. She stayed quiet, but she didn’t need words. I could feel it in the way she clung, in the way she finally let herself rest.
I lay there in the dark, jaw tight, promising myself one thing: if Dean Cole thought he could break her down, he was going to find out just how wrong he was.
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