33. All Storm, Empathy, and Bracing for Impact
Chapter Thirty-Three
All Storm, Empathy, and Bracing for Impact
Grant
Ellie’s office is a glass box at the end of the hall, and the second I walk in, she cocks an eyebrow like she’s been waiting. She doesn’t even have to say, “What’s up?” It’s implied in the flex of her jaw and the way her pen hovers, poised for drama.
I cut straight to the chase. “I want it on the record. My relationship with Neve. Official in the agreement. Yes, there’s been a change of circumstances, so we’ll need to review.” My chest is tight, but I keep my hands relaxed, palms open. Non-threatening.
Ellie sighs, setting the pen down. Her eyes flick up, assessing every molecule of resolve on my face. “Grant, you know Talan needs to sign off first, right? They’re your employer. If anything goes sideways there…” She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to.
My income is Sera’s stability.
If I lose my job, I lose my daughter.
I nod. “I sent the disclosure letter already—certified mail, obviously. I just need an acknowledgment from HR.” I say it like it’s no big deal, but the truth is, I’ve been refreshing my inbox every ten seconds for two days, hoping for a ping. Nothing.
Ellie’s mouth ticks up, impressed despite herself. “You’re getting out ahead of it. Good. Let me know when you get confirmation, and we’ll file the addendum with the official timestamp.”
“You don’t need Marie’s agreement?”
Ellie tilts her head. “Did we need your agreement when Marie started seeing Kris? No. I approve the change, not Marie.”
My body relaxes.
She studies me for another beat, then nods. “This is the right play, Grant. If you want to be with Neve, you need to protect your career first. Otherwise, Marie will have a field day, and Sera will be collateral damage.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
I leave with the faintest bolt of hope, but it lasts about as long as it takes to get to work and turn my laptop on. My inbox is a disaster, everything flagged as urgent, and I’m about to lose myself in grading when there’s a knock at my office door.
“Doctor King?” I look up to find James from HR. “Could you come with me, please?”
I blink. That’s not a good sign.
He leads me down the hall, past the teaching labs. I get marched into the HR conference room, where Amy, the Director of Faculty Affairs, is sitting with a look that says, “Don’t even try to bullshit me.”
“We received an anonymous report,” she says, folding her hands on the table. “Alleging an undisclosed relationship with a student. That’s grounds for review. Effective immediately.”
My stomach drops. I bite down the urge to laugh, because of fucking course this is happening now.
“I sent the disclosure letter three days ago,” I say, reaching into my bag with shaking hands and flinging the receipt from the post office onto the table.
James picks it up, squinting through his half-frame glasses. Amy barely glances at it, mouth compressing into a flat line.
“All that proves is that you mailed something,” she says, voice gentling. “Until we see the contents, our hands are tied. We have to proceed with the review as if there was no disclosure.”
I exhale through my teeth, trying to stay measured, but my insides are going up in flames.
“You’re kidding. I have tenure, and you know I’m not trying to hide anything.
I put it in writing. Yes, there’s been a relationship—” I don’t bother to couch it in euphemism here, when I’d rather be anywhere else but in this glass-walled HR panic room.
“—and there still is a relationship. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.
But it’s not a secret or some illicit thing I’m trying to cover up.
I did the disclosure. I followed the policy. ”
James shrugs, giving me the “it’s out of my hands, man” look. Amy’s mouth twitches, like she wants to feel bad for me, but it’s strictly against the HR handbook.
“I’m sorry, Grant,” she says, and I think she actually means it. “We have to complete the review. When the letter arrives, we’ll add it to the file. Until then, the policy is clear.”
I drum my fingers on the table. Slow, controlled. The old me would have thrown up his hands and walked out, but the new me has too much on the line. Sera. Neve. The life I’m trying to build despite Marie’s best efforts.
I’d put money on this being her doing.
“Fine,” I say. “You get the letter, you forward it straight to my attorney. Her name’s Ellie Aspen at Pierre, Aspen, and Kincaid.
” I rattle off her email address and direct line number, watching as Amy scrawls them on her notepad.
“As soon as you receive it, please send it there. It needs to go into my custody review.”
James nods, trying to hide how his eyes widen, but I see the sympathy there. “We’ll be in touch. For now, you’re on administrative leave. Off campus until further notice.”
The words hit, but not as hard as I expected. Probably because I’ve been braced for disaster since the second I opened Neve’s first message.
I collect my jacket and briefcase from my office, then head for the library before I leave. I’m pretty sure that’s where she’ll be.
Neve sits at a carrel by the window, brow furrowed as she highlights lines on a printout for one of her classes—looks like Intro to Human Sexual Attraction, which I know she’s been auditing.
She looks up when I approach, and the look she gives me is this soft, wide-eyed worry that immediately makes something tectonic shift in my chest. She can tell something’s up immediately, and it almost sends me to my knees.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Her voice is so gentle. “Are you okay? Is Sera okay?”
Fuck, I love her.
Not just the way she sees right through me. Not just the way her brow furrows and her hands flutter unconsciously toward me, like she’s ready to catch all the pieces as I fall apart. But the fact that the second item in her triage list is my daughter.
I never thought I’d be this gone for anyone after what Marie did to me. Neve has rewritten my brain. I’m not even embarrassed by how much I want to wrap her up, tuck my face into her collar, and just… exist, knowing I’ll be okay, as long as I’m with her.
I force a smile—it’s small, but it’s all I can manage. “Come with me? We need to see Ellie. Now, if you have time.”
She doesn’t ask for details. Just packs up her things in record time and is by my side with this wild little flash in her eyes—all storm, empathy, and bracing for impact.
It’s raining harder by the time we step out and cross campus to my car, which feels like foreshadowing. The kind that would be on-the-nose if this were a movie, but it’s not, so I just let it soak through my jacket and into my bones.
Ellie’s office door is half open when we get there. She looks up, sees us together, drenched, and doesn’t even bother with the poker face.
“Sit,” she says, nodding at the two chairs. “Something happened?”
I rub my hands over my thighs, unsure of how to start, so I just spit it out.
“Somebody sent an anonymous tip to HR. Said I was fraternizing with a student and hadn’t disclosed it.
They’ve put me on leave pending review. I told them I sent the disclosure letter three days ago, but it hasn’t arrived, so they’re treating it like I’m lying. ”
Ellie’s mouth tightens. “Marie.”
It’s not a question.
I nod, staring at the water pooling under my shoes. “She’s the only one who’d do it. She’s the only one who knew how it’d look.”
Neve’s hand finds my knee, squeezing. I could probably cry if I let myself.
Ellie sighs, long-suffering. “I can’t do anything until the letter shows up. If I push back on the review now, it’ll look like I’m colluding, and I could lose my license. If the letter arrives in time, it’ll prove you were trying to disclose, but until then, we have to wait it out.”
I nod again, the weight of it pressing down, shoving me into the chair like gravity’s been dialed up just for me. “They’ve banned me from campus. I can’t even teach my classes.”
Neve is quiet, but her leg presses close against mine. Her warmth might be the only thing holding me together.
“Am I allowed to see you?” she asks, voice bright and brave. “Or did she file some kind of archaic by-proxy restraining order, too?”
Ellie barks a laugh, but then her face sobers. “You shouldn’t.” She tips her head to me. “Especially not while he has Sera. Not with all this up in the air. I’m sorry. I can’t… tell you what to do. But with Marie clearly in such a… volatile state, I wouldn’t risk it.”
I nod, even though it feels like a guilty verdict. “We get it. That’s… fine. Thanks, Ellie.” My hands are balled into fists on my knees. Neve is already gathering her bag, face set, and when she stands, she’s careful not to look back at me until we’re in the hall.
The glass door ticks shut behind us. The corridor is empty, white noise echoing. Neither of us says a word on the walk out—not even when we hit the cold slap of rain outside. I unlock my car by habit, and we both climb in, shutting the world out with a hollow thunk.
Then it’s just the sound of breathing, and the rain needling against the windshield.
Neve turns in the seat. “Are you okay?” Her voice is gentle but firm—the kind you use to keep someone from going under.
I try a laugh, but it comes out warped and watery. “That’s a loaded question.”
She hums, staring at her hands in her lap. “It’s going to be all right, you know. This is just the part where it sucks for a little while.” She shrugs. “So, we didn’t get our third-act breakup. This is our conflict.”
I chuff a sound. It’s not a laugh. I want to believe her. I wish I could. My shoulders feel like they’ve been poured full of cement.
She leans over, hand sliding onto my forearm, warm and steady. “You did everything right. You did the letter, and you told the truth. You’re not the bad guy here, baby.”
I glare at the steering wheel. “It doesn’t matter if nobody believes me. It doesn’t matter if Marie makes me out to be some kind of manipulative creep. If the letter doesn’t show up, I’m screwed. I lose my job, then I lose my daughter.” The words are practically wrung out of me with a wheeze.
Neve’s hand squeezes, thumb stroking slowly. “The letter is going to show up. I know it will.”
I want to believe her so badly it hurts.
She shifts closer, and suddenly her arms are around my shoulders, pulling me into her. I go, because I can’t not. I let her hold me. God, I need her to hold me. My whole body goes loose, like every muscle just gives up the fight.
I bury my face in her collar, jaw scraping her neck. She smells like rain and her citrus shampoo; she feels like home. Her fingers rake through my hair, slow. “Grant, I need you to listen to me. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
Her lips press to my forehead, but even in her arms, I can’t help but murmur, “But what if it’s not?”
Sera’s asleep, finally, her little dinosaur night light casting her in blue and green. I close her door gently, padding down the hall. The apartment is dark except for the kitchen, which glows gold like a sitcom set under the copper-shaded lamps over the island.
When there’s a knock at the door, my heart drops into my ass—but it’s not Marie (thank fuck), it’s Cade, holding a brown tote bag and a bottle of rye, which he raises when my eyes meet his. “Permission to enter the lair?”
I wave him in, and he drops the bag on the counter, immediately setting out his cocktail kit like a traveling snake oil salesman.
“I heard you had a shitty day,” he says, not even bothering with pleasantries. “Thought you might need a Manhattan, or eight.”
I almost laugh, but it comes out as a tired exhale. “News travels fast.”
He snorts. “Yeah, man.” He glances up, and his blue eyes are dark. “I’m sorry.”
He pours rye, vermouth, and bitters. The ice cracks in the shaker. He slides a glass across to me, then hoists his own.
“To the mail gods,” he says. “May they work in your favor.”
I chuckle despite myself. “It was Marie.”
Cade blinks, but he doesn’t look surprised. “She’s always been a piece of work.”
“HR pulled me out of my office, but—” I scrub a hand over my face. “Fuck—what if I’d been teaching? Even if it all gets cleared up, shit sticks, you know?”
He hums. “So, what now?”
I shrug. “I’m on mandatory leave. If the letter shows up, I get to keep my job. If it doesn’t, I’m toast.”
He turns the glass in his hand, watching the meniscus tilt. “She’s doing it to get Sera?”
“Of course she is.” I stare at the counter. “But it’s not just that. She just… can’t stand that I’m actually happy.”
His mouth tilts. “That’s the thing, man. You are happy. Or at least, you seem… less haunted.”
“I was fine before Neve,” I mumble, but it’s only half defensive. “I had everything I needed.”
Cade watches me. “Yeah, I was fine before Fia. Happy, even. But… were you?”
The silence stretches. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I nurse my drink, and Cade just nods, like that was all the response he needed. I suppose it was, since we both know the truth.
No, I wasn’t happy.
We drink in silence after that, until Cade drains his glass and taps his knuckles on the counter before moving to the sink to wash up his mixer and jigger. “I gotta go.”
I quirk a brow. “That’s it, huh? They’re cutting budget on guy talks or something?”
He turns, grinning. “You’re just my first stop of the night, man.” He tips his head to the door, hair falling in his face as he rolls his cocktail kit back into his tote. “Next stop—soon-to-be sister-in-law.”
I huff a laugh. “Fia’s not with Neve?”
Cade smirks, slapping the back of my shoulder as he passes. “Fi hates girl talk—besides, she’s got somewhere else to be, too.”
My mouth opens, but he’s out the door before I can ask him what the hell he means.