Page 19 of Campus Fake

I’d tell her anything she wanted.

I told her about my grandfather—how he’d grown up poor in rural Montana outside of one of the wealthiest parts of the state, the son of a ranch hand who worked someone else’s land. How he’d scraped, fought, and clawed his way to the East Coast, building an empire from nothing but grit and determination. He’d always said his Montana roots made him more resilient than some of his counterparts because Montanans knew how to survive and be scrappy when they needed to be. They could survive the harshest winters and poor crops. They knew how to build community and value history—maybe not the politicians but the locals, the people who’d built Montana. But he didn’t want to ever worry about money again. He wanted the Gordon name to mean something, not just being someone who works the land, but someone who owns, who leads, who creates. And he accomplished it. The Gordon name meant something now. It meant money and power and influence, the kind of legacy that should have made me proud. Should’ve made him proud.

But it didn’t.

“Pop built something incredible,” I said, staring at the ceiling as Sam listened quietly. “But the older he got, the more jaded he became. He looked around at what he’d created—the business, the empire, his family—and he didn’t like what he saw.”

“What did he see?”

It was my turn to huff out a humorless laugh. “Spoiled, selfish sons who cared more about the doors the Gordon name could open for them than about being decent people. My dad and his brother grew up with every advantage Pop never had, and instead of making them grateful, it made them entitled. They expected success. Expected wealth. Expected the world to bow down because of who they were. But entitlement doesn’t breed loyalty. It only breeds greed, selfishness, and more privilege.”

Sam’s thumb traced absent patterns against my chest. “That sounds lonely.”

It was such a simple observation, but it hit me right in the chest because that’s exactly how it had been. “Yeah. It was.”

I told her how Pop had finally had enough. How he’d stepped down from the company, handed the reins to his sons, and walked away from everything he’d built. Most people thought he was crazy. My father certainly did.

But Pop had taken his considerable wealth and moved back to Montana—not to the trailer he’d grown up in, but to a small ranch in Big Sky that he bought. He’d hired local hands, sure, but he worked right alongside them. Said it kept him honest. Kept him remembering where he came from. The guys who worked for him have been there for years—he treated them like family, paid them more than any other ranch in the county, and half of them had ownership stakes in the operation now.

“He always says it’s hard work,” I said. “Harder than anything he’d ever done to build his Fortune 500 company. But he also says it’s more fulfilling, in a way business never was for him.”

“He found peace,” Sam murmured.

“Yeah. He found peace in the mountains. And when I was sixteen, he invited me to spend the summer at the ranch, and I found it too.”

“Is that why you chose CFU?”

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “My parents wanted me to go to Yale. Expected it, actually. They’d already made donations, pulled strings, done everything short of bribing the admissions committee to guarantee my acceptance. Then I broke the news to them that I was going to Clark Fork University to play hockey. I hadn’t even submitted my application to Yale.”

Sam let out a surprised laugh, and warmth practically flowed through my bloodstream at the sound. There was my Sam. “I bet that went over well.”

“They were furious.” The memory still brought me a petty sense of satisfaction. “But the money for my college came from Pop, not them. So they really didn’t have a say.”

“Harry Gordon.” She said my name like she was tasting it, rolling it around in her mouth. “Rebel heir to a business empire, hiding out in Montana to escape his family legacy.”

“Something like that.”

She shifted closer, burrowing into my side and making me feel larger than life. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

“I’m glad you came to Montana.”

I breathed in the scent of her shampoo and felt my muscles relax. “Me too.”

Because if I hadn’t, I never would’ve met her.

EIGHT

I woke up slowly, wrapped in strong, muscled arms, and for a few blissful seconds I forgot where I was. I felt safe in a way I hadn’t felt in years—maybe ever. Then reality crashed back in, and I remembered everything.

Seattle.

My parents.

The way my mom had looked at me like I was a ghost she wished would disappear.

I kept my eyes closed, not ready to face the day. Not ready to leave this cocoon of warmth and pretend to be okay again. The blankets were pulled up over us now, though I didn’t remember that happening. I didn’t remember falling asleep at all, actually. Just Harry’s arms around me and the steady rhythm of his breathing which was soothing against my frayed nerves. I remembered us going down to a very silent and tense dinner before quickly excusing ourselves to come back upstairs. We’d stayed in my room the rest of the night.