Page 14 of Campus Fake

I didn’t want to. If I looked at him, he’d see everything I was trying so hard to hide. The devastation. The grief. The bone-deep certainty that I didn’t belong here, that I should never have come.

But Harry was patient. He stood there, solid and immovable, waiting me out until I finally lifted my gaze to meet his.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

A broken laugh escaped me. “Liar.”

“I’m not.” His gray eyes were steady, certain. “You showed up. That’s the hard part.”

“Is it?” My voice cracked. “Because it feels like the hard part is going to be surviving the next two weeks.”

“Then we’ll survive them together.” His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, the touch impossibly gentle for someone so large. “You’re not in this alone, remember?”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to.

But I’d seen my father’s face. I’d watched him look away from me like I was too painful to see. If he was looking at me like that, then it wasn’t going to be any easier to face my mom. And I didn’t know how I was supposed to be under the same roof with them for two weeks, pretending everything was fine, when we all knew the truth.

It should have been me.

SIX

I’d known Sam for well over a year now. I’d watched her command every room she walked into with untouchable confidence and a sharp wit that could cut a man down at the knees while making him thank her for the privilege. I’d memorized the way she laughed—loud and unapologetic—and the way she tilted her head when she was about to say something devastating. I’d catalogued every smile, every eye roll, every moment when her mask slipped just enough to show the real woman underneath.

The woman sitting next to me in the backseat of her dad’s SUV was none of those things.

She was quiet. And Sam had never been quiet for as long as I’d known her. And certainly never like this. This was the kind of silence that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The kind that felt like watching someone disappear in slow motion while you reached for them through fog.

I hated it, but more than that I was worried.

Her father, Greg, navigated the rain-slicked Seattle streets while Jordan rode shotgun and talked about the Seahawks. It seemed like normal conversation between family members.

But Sam hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten in the car, and worst of all, neither her dad nor her brother had made any attempt to engage her in conversation since we’d started driving.

Sam stared out the window, quiet and still as a statue, while I used every skill in my arsenal to try and read the room.

She’d been right about one thing; I hadn’t fully understood what I was walking into. Something big had happened in this family, but I didn’t like how the weight of it seemed to settle heaviest on Sam’s shoulders.

Every few minutes, Greg’s eyes would flick to the rearview mirror to look at Sam.

And every single time, something in his gaze made my hackles rise.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even coldness. It was like a mix between grief, hurt, and maybe even a little guilt. Like looking at her physically pained him in ways he couldn’t control. His eyes would find her, and then slide away just as quickly, as if the sight of her was too much to bear.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I reached over and covered her hand with mine.

She didn’t look at me. But she rotated her hand, threading her fingers with mine, holding me tighter, and I watched her take a deep breath and let it out slowly, just like we had on the plane.

I’d always known Sam was strong, but I was starting to realize she was strong by necessity, not by nature.

Her parents’ house was a two-story colonial style in a nice neighborhood with holiday lights strung along the roofline and a big wreath on the front door. It was the kind of home you’d see in a Christmas movie—cozy, welcoming, and picture-perfect.

The driveway was already occupied by another car, and as soon as we parked, Jordan got out and walked back to the trunk to grab the luggage. Greg moved to help him, and I watched Sam take a breath—steeling herself—before she opened her door.

I followed her out, staying close.

Once we all had our luggage, we followed Greg and Jordan through a side door into the kitchen.

A woman was stirring something at the stove, but her voice was bright and happy as she said, “Hey, sweetie. I’m just finishing up dinner. Come give your mama a kiss.”