Chapter 9 Fallout
“Finally.”
Luz’s voice cut through the quiet hallway like a whip. She stood in our doorway, phone clutched in one hand, the other braced against the door frame like she was physically holding herself back from either hugging me or strangling me.
Before I could even respond, Amy’s voice drifted from inside the room: “Was that Professor Ward’s car you just climbed out of?”
I blinked. “Hi, yes, good morning to you both, too.” I forced a tired smile. “And yes. That was Kian. But—”
“Kian?” Luz cut me off, one brow winging up. “First name basis?”
Heat rushed to my face. “Uh… kinda?”
Amy leaned against the door frame. “Do we get to call him Kian, too, or is that privilege just for his favorite student?”
“Gods,” I groaned, scrubbing a hand down my face.
I stepped into the suite, and Luz pulled me into a crushing hug.She pulled back, hands on my shoulders, eyes scanning my face. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.” I set my bag down and took a breath. “He was really kind. Nothing happened, Luz. I promise.”
“We believe you,” Amy said from where she sat on Luz’s bed, her expression serious. Dark circles shadowed her eyes; she looked exhausted. “But you need to know, people are already talking.”
My stomach dropped. “How bad?”
Luz pulled out her phone. “Bad. Mariah texted me at seven this morning asking if you were ‘really banging the hot mythology professor.’” She made air quotes. “And that was before anyone saw you get dropped off.”
“There’s already a thread on the campus forum,” Amy added quietly. “I found it this morning. Anonymous, of course. Someone started it last night after you were seen leaving with him in the rain.”
“Last night?” I sank onto my bed, suddenly exhausted. “How did anyone even—”
“Small town in Pennsylvania, Mel, it could have been anyone,” Luz said flatly.
“What are they saying?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Amy winced. “The usual garbage. That you’re sleeping with him for grades. That he’s taking advantage of a student. Someone—” She hesitated. “Someone said you’re ‘earning extra credit on your back.’”
I felt my face heat with anger and humiliation.
“That’s complete bullshit, and we know it,” Luz huffed. “But Mel…” Her expression softened. “This place loves a scandal. Especially one with a pretty, messy bow labeled ‘professor and student.’”
I pressed my hands to my face, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest. “I knew this would happen. I knew how it would look. But I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We know,” Amy said, and there was something fierce in her voice. “You had a shitty night, he helped you, and you crashed on his couch. That’s it. Anyone who says differently is inventing their own narrative.”
“But that’s not going to stop them,” I sighed.
“No,” Luz agreed. “It’s not.”
Silence settled over us, heavy and uncomfortable.
Luz sat beside me, taking my hand. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to tell us exactly what happened. The full story, no details spared. Then we’re going to figure out how to handle this.”
I took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay. Full story.”
I told them everything—almost everything—from the dinner catastrophe with my Mom, to the bookshop, the vision, and being followed in the rain.
And then Kian appeared, answering a prayer I hadn’t known I was desperate enough to make.
“He offered to walk me home,” I said, “but I didn’t want to lead my stalker back here. I was shaking, soaked through, and the storm was getting worse. So he suggested I crash at his place.”
“And?” Luz prompted.
“And I slept in his guest room. Alone. He made me tea and gave me dry clothes, and let me rest. This morning, he made breakfast and drove me home.” I pulled the card from my pocket. “He gave me his number. Said if I needed to talk about anything, I could call.”
Amy studied the card, then looked at me. “That’s it? Nothing else happened?”
My face heated as I remembered the dream, but I pushed it away. “That’s it. He was a perfect gentleman. Didn’t even try anything. I literally passed out in borrowed sweatpants. Woke up to coffee and… get this. He has dogs. Three of them.”
That earned me a grin. “We do love a dog dad,” Luz said.
“They’re ridiculous,” I said, smiling as I tugged at a loose thread on my blanket. “Honestly, they’re like his entire personality in canine form, and they adore him.”
Amy arched her brow. “You sound like you adore him.”
My cheeks burned hotter. “I didn’t say that. I just meant… he’s not as intimidating as people think.”
“Did you want him to try something?” Luz asked with a knowing look.
“That’s not—I didn’t—” I groaned and flopped backward on the bed. “It doesn’t matter what I wanted. Nothing happened.”
“But you wanted it to,” Luz said. Not a question.
I covered my face with my hands. “Can we not do this right now?”
“So that’s a yes.”
“Luz.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.” I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. “And yes, I’m attracted to him. But I’m also not stupid. I know the power imbalance. I know how it looks.”
“It’s not about how it looks,” Amy said. “It’s about what it is. And if you two…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “If something did happen, you’d both be taking a huge risk. Him especially. He could lose his job.”
The weight of that settled over me. I hadn’t really let myself think about what this could cost him if anyone believed the rumors.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I insisted. “He’s made it clear he’s keeping his distance. He was friendly, but he never crossed a line. Not once.”
Luz studied me for a long moment. “But you wish he would.”
“It doesn’t matter what I wish.” I stood, needing to move. “Because despite my attraction, I’m keeping it to myself. I’m not going to be the reason he loses everything.”
“Mel—” Luz started.
“No. I mean it.” I turned to face them both. “I’ll keep my head down. I’ll be professional in class. I’ll give people nothing else to talk about. This will blow over.”
Amy and Luz exchanged a look that said they weren’t convinced.
“Just promise us something,” Luz said finally.
“What?”
“Next time, if you’re in trouble, you call us. Not him. Us.” Her voice softened. “We’re your people, Mel. Let us be there for you.”
Something in my chest cracked. “I promise. No more running off into storms alone.”
Luz pulled me into another hug. Amy joined, wrapping her arms around both of us.
“We’ve got you,” Luz murmured. “Always.”
After they left—Luz to the library, Amy to another one of her study appointments—I sat alone in the quiet suite, trying to process everything.
The journal lay on my desk, a silent accusation. I hadn’t opened it since last night. Part of me was afraid of what else I might find.
My phone buzzed.
Mom: We need to talk. Call me.
I deleted the message without responding. I couldn’t deal with her today. I grabbed my work apron and my bag. I had a shift at the café, and routine felt like the only thing that might keep me grounded.
The café was quiet when I arrived, just the soft jazz playing and the warm smell of coffee. A few students occupied corner tables, bent over laptops and textbooks.
Blessedly normal.
Cory was behind the counter, alphabetizing the tea jars; something he only did when he was anxious or avoiding something.
“Hey,” he said when he saw me, his voice carefully neutral.
“Hey.” I tied on my apron and joined him behind the bar.
For a few minutes, we worked in silence. I wiped down the espresso machine while he restocked the cups.
Finally, Cory set down the jar he’d been holding. “Mel, I need to apologize.”
I glanced at him. “For what?”
“Your mom called the store asking about you. I mentioned you’d fainted, didn’t think it was a big deal.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting my eyes. “Luz told me she showed up at your classroom. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about how she’d react, or what it would mean for you.”
The anger I’d been carrying since last night deflated. “You didn’t mean to.”
“No, but I should have known better. You’ve told me how she is.” He looked at me, guilt etched across his face.
I leaned my back against the counter. “You weren’t thinking. That’s different from not caring.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I nodded. “Friends still?”
“Definitely.” Relief softened his expression.
“Good. Because I need all the friends I can get right now.”
“Rough morning?”
“You have no idea.”
He grinned. “Well, at least you’re vertical. That’s an improvement from the last time I saw you.”
I threw a dish towel at him, and just like that, the tension was gone.
The morning shift passed in a blur of orders and easy banter. By noon, I’d almost convinced myself that everything would be okay.
Then the bell over the door chimed.
The man who entered didn’t belong in our little café. He was too polished in his slate-gray suit, rain beading on the shoulders as though even water was afraid to cling to him. His silvery hair was perfectly parted, his eyes flat and pale, almost colorless like fog given human form.
Something about him made my skin crawl.
“Welcome,” Cory called. “What can we get you?”
The man’s gaze slid past him and found me.
“I’ll have coffee,” he said, his words almost rhythmic in their structure. “Black and strong.”
His voice was cold silk, but there was a cadence underneath that made me want to keep listening even as my instincts screamed to look away. I nodded, not trusting my voice, and turned to the espresso machine. My hands shook slightly as I prepared the cup.
He watched me the entire time. Not like a customer waiting for his order, more like a scientist observing a specimen.
“Melanie Blumenthal,” he said lightly, as if greeting an old acquaintance.
My blood went cold. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet.” His gaze swept over the shelves, examining the jars with handwritten labels and the flyer for my podcast half-hidden behind the tip jar. “But I do enjoy your little show. ‘Running on sage and unresolved trauma,’ was it?”
I slid the cup across the counter, eager to cut this short. “On the house.”
His smile was razor-thin. “Nothing’s free, Ms. Blumenthal.”
He set a coin on the counter instead. Impossibly old, its edges smooth with age, but the design of a pomegranate split wide, seeds spilling like drops of blood, was still clear.
My breath stopped. It was nearly identical to the coin Kian had. But how did this man have one, too?
“Keep the change,” the man murmured.
I didn’t touch it. “Who are you?”
“A concerned citizen.” His smile never reached his eyes. “We all serve something, Ms. Blumenthal. Even those who like to pretend they don’t.”
The way he said “serve” sent chills through me.
He lifted the cup, inhaled the steam, and grimaced as if the heat offended him.
“Your friend Amaris,” he said casually. “Bright girl. Remarkable mind. The study coordinators are quite impressed with her… openness.”
Ice threaded down my spine. “You’re with the study?”
“I make it my business to know promising young minds.” He took a sip, his expression unreadable.
My chest constricted. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “You’d do well to consider it yourself. The study has room for bright, questioning minds. You might find it… enlightening.”
“I’m not—”
“Not what?” His smile deepened, shark-like. “Not curious?”
His tone made my stomach lurch.
“The study is about potential,” he continued, setting down the cup.
“About helping exceptional individuals understand who they really are. What they’re capable of.
” He gestured to the podcast flyer. “You ask the right questions, Ms. Blumenthal. You sense there’s more beneath the surface. Don’t you want to know what?”
“Nope,” I stated, my voice shaking. “I don’t.”
“Pity.” He straightened his cuffs. “The invitation remains open. When you’re ready to stop running from yourself…” He tapped the coin with one finger. “You know how to find us.”
The bell chimed as he opened the door, faint music lilting through the air—a distant, melancholy sound that was gone before I could place it.
Cory let out a low whistle. “What the hell was that about?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. I stared at the coin, a litany of questions racking my brain.
Hesitantly, I reached for the coin. The metal was icy, as if it had been sitting in a freezer. The moment my fingers touched it, my birthmark burned.
I jerked my hand back with a gasp.
“You okay?” Cory asked, brow lifted.
“Yeah. Just—” I grabbed a napkin and used it to pick up the coin. “I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine.
I slipped the coin into my apron pocket and immediately felt the weight of it, like it was pulling at something inside me.
My phone buzzed.
Amy: They’re starting earlier than planned. New scan protocol. Might be here a while.
Three dots blinked, then:
Amy: If I don’t answer, I’m probably just stuck in a machine. Call you later.
The coin seemed to grow heavier. I typed back quickly:
Me: Text me the second you’re out. Please.
Amy: Will do. Stop worrying.
But I couldn’t.
What is happening?
“Mel?” Cory’s voice seemed to come from far away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I forced myself to focus on him. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… tired.”
I looked away and glanced through the window. For just a breath, the reflection in the window wasn’t mine. It was a woman with flowers braided into her dark hair, a crown of bone and bloom upon her head, her eyes deep as midnight rivers.
When I blinked, she was gone.
But the coin stayed.