37. Marie Can Kick Rocks
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Marie Can Kick Rocks
Grant
The bed is empty when I wake. Not just empty, but a vacuum, a cold gap behind my knees, the pillow still holding the ghost of her citrus shampoo.
It’s too early, but the ugly kind of early, and the apartment sounds different when she isn’t here.
Too still. Even the sheets feel like they’re sulking.
I run a hand over the spot where she should be, then get up, feet hitting the hardwood with a thump.
I need coffee—maybe an Irish coffee, if I didn’t have Sera with me. I check her room on my way down the hall, but it’s only just after 6 a.m., and she’s still flat out, face mashed into the comforter. I let her sleep, padding into the kitchen.
I fill the kettle while I check my phone to find nothing but a couple of unread emails from Talan that I don’t bother opening. If I’m on leave, I’m on leave. I’m not working for them when they’ve barred me from campus.
My mind keeps looping on the letter. I’ve had parcels and letters lost by USPS before. They disappear into the fucking void. If the letter’s gone, it’s gone, never to be seen again.
The ugly thoughts swirl. Custody. Sera. Neve.
It’s all a tangle, and I can’t shake the sense that something’s about to drop, good or bad.
When my phone rings, I almost jump out of my skin.
My stomach sinks when I see it’s Ellie’s name on the screen.
My hand trembles as I answer on the first ring.
“Hey. It’s early.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but it comes out second-puberty high.
“Grant.” Her voice is professional, but there’s a congenial lilt to it. “I got the university’s confirmation this morning—they received your disclosure letter. You’ll want to wait to hear it from them, but I guess that means your review will be dismissed.”
For a second, I don’t know what to say. All the adrenaline leaves my body so fast it’s like I’m a puppet and my strings have been cut. All my limbs are made of lead. I nearly drop to the kitchen floor with the relief of it.
“Oh—fuck,” is my inelegant summation of the sensation.
Ellie laughs. “Yeah. Fuck.”
I sag against the counter, bones taken by relief, chuckling despite myself.
“Custody’s staying exactly as it is. You’re in the clear.” Her voice is all business, but there’s a crackle of something bright underneath. “You and Neve don’t need to hide. I guess there’ll be some adjustment to Neve’s classes, but Talan can’t touch you. Marie can’t touch you.”
For a second, I can’t hear anything except my own breath. My hand is shaking so hard I nearly splash coffee on the counter. I set the mug down carefully. I probably don’t need the caffeine after this, anyway.
“Off the record?” Ellie adds, softer now. “Marie can kick rocks.”
The laugh that explodes out of me is stupidly loud. I double over, clutching the edge of the counter. Air rushes out of my lungs.
“Shit,” I say, because there’s nothing else.
Ellie snorts. “Seriously. Celebrate. The only thing left is to tell Neve—buy her flowers and take her and Sera out for brunch so you can tell Sera together.”
I laugh again. The weight is gone. I’m so light I could float.
Ellie hangs up, and I just stand there, phone in my hand, staring across the kitchen.
It’s bright. Not physically—the curtains are still drawn, the morning light just an anemic stripe on the floor—but it’s brighter in here just because the shadows in my head are gone.
I’m not bracing for the next blow, the next accusation, the next time I have to defend myself to people who don’t even care about the truth because they’ve already made up their own version of it.
I exhale, and my chest feels huge. I let the feeling unspool in me—the relief, the wild giddy sense of escape, the fact that for the first time in years I don’t have to choose between what I want and what’s safe.
I pick up my phone again, almost fumble it, I’m so keyed up.
I could text Neve, but it feels wrong. This isn’t a text thing.
I want to hear her voice. I want to give her this—the news, the proof, the future we both kept talking about in the dark, hedging because we weren’t sure if it could ever be real.
I hit call, and the phone rings once, then twice.
I rehearse what I’ll say, but it all comes out electric and scrambled in my head—We don’t have to hide. Marie can’t touch us. The university is done with it. We can actually do this, all the way.
She picks up, and her voice is so bright it almost vibrates.
“Hey, baby, it’s early. Are you—” She cuts herself off. “Is it—you’re calling, so it’s good news, right?”
I laugh, pure reflex. “It’s the best news, angel.
It’s done. The review is done, and the university signed off.
Custody’s safe, my job’s safe, and Marie can…
” I trail off. I want to echo Ellie, but I can’t even say it without laughing.
“She’s got nothing left, Neve. She can’t touch us. You and me—we’re clear.”
There’s a beat of silence on the line. I hear her inhale, shaky and loud, and then she lets out this wild, half-sob, half-laugh that goes straight down my spine.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, trembling with tears.
I hear her try to get it together on the other end of the line, but she can’t.
My face hurts from smiling. I want to say something smooth, but words are failing me, so I just stand there in the kitchen, shaking like a fool, listening to the woman I love laugh-cry on the phone because for once, the universe has decided not to fuck me.
That’s when Sera comes barreling into the kitchen at Mach two, bare feet slapping the hardwood, curls wild and eyes wide. She runs straight into my legs like she’s trying to knock me down. “Good morning, Papa!”
I scoop her up, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear. “Hey, bug. Did you sleep well?”
She nods so hard her hair flies everywhere. “I dreamed about dinosaurs and pancakes. Who are you talking to?”
I glance at the screen, then tap the speaker button and set the phone on the counter. “It’s my friend Neve. Wanna say hi?”
Sera’s face lights up like Christmas. She leans so far over, nose practically pressed to the phone, that I almost drop her. “Hi, Neve!”
There’s a sound on the other end of the line, like a squeak and a hiccup had a baby. “Hi, Sera.” Neve’s voice is a little wobbly. “Do you have dinosaur pajamas? I bet you do.”
Sera beams. “Yes! They glow in the dark!”
I could listen to them interact all day. “Hey, Sera, you hungry?”
Her little face lights up. “Can we get pancakes?”
The words are out of my mouth before I even think about it. “You wanna go out for brunch? Just you, me, and Neve?”
“A brunch meeting?”
I ruffle her hair, grinning like an idiot. “Absolutely. Go get dressed, wild thing.”
She’s already gone, a blur of dinosaur pajamas and joy, tearing down the hall toward her room. I pick up the phone, take it off speaker, and bring it back to my ear. My hands are shaking again.
“Hey, angel,” I say, voice rough from trying not to lose it. “Are you ready to do this for real? Let me introduce you to Sera—not just as my friend, but… as my girlfriend. As my person. I want her to know you. I want you to know each other.”
There’s a pause, and then she bursts into tears.
It’s not a cute, ladylike sniffle, either—it’s a full-on, air-raid-siren sob, right into the microphone. I nearly drop the phone, it’s so loud. My heart flares up in my chest, a mix of terror and this pure, idiotic relief that she’s feeling it as much as I am.
She tries to say something, but it takes a few seconds. All I hear is crying.
“Yes, please. Is this for real? Like, actually for real?”
I can’t stop grinning. My cheeks ache. “Hey, I love you, angel. You know that, right? I’m yours.”
“Yes,” Neve gusts out on a laugh. “I love you, too. But I’m afraid, I’ve got some bad news to break to you.”
My heart plummets. “What?”
Neve barely hides a snorted laugh on the end of the phone. “I won the bet.”