Page 54 of Campus Fake

I sat down next to her and wrapped my arms around her as she curled into me, her sobs breaking my heart. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

We sat there until she pulled herself together. She let out a shuddering breath. “I can’t go back to the house after that.”

“We’re not going back.”

She glanced at me. “But our stuff? Where else will we go?”

“I’ll take care of getting our stuff, but we’re going to a hotel and then tomorrow we’re going home.”

“But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

I watched her face closely. “Do you really want to stay here?” If she did, then we’d stay. But I suspected she’d feel better once we were back in Montana. The loss of her parents would sting for a while, but at least back in Montana we had a real family. Maybe not by blood, but they were family all the same. One message to the group chat and they’d surround her with love the second we walked out of the Missoula airport.

Her shoulders fell and relief filled her face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

I got us an Uber and booked a hotel room on my phone while we waited, one hand still wrapped around her. She didn’t talk and I didn’t push. She’d talk to me when she was ready. We were past secrets now.

The hotel was downtown and probably fancier than necessary for one night, but she deserved a little spoiling after the shit her parents had put her through. I checked us in while Sam stood beside me, still holding my hand like letting go wasn’t an option. The woman at the front desk was professional enough not to comment on the fact that we had no luggage.

I’d already sent a text to Jordan asking him to grab our bags from their parents’ house and bring them to the hotel tonight.

As soon as we got into the room, Sam kicked off her shoes, took off her coat, and climbed onto the bed, curling up on her side and facing the window.

I followed her, lying down behind her and wrapping my arm around her waist, pulling her against me until our bodies were flush, my knees tucked behind hers.

She laced her fingers through mine.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

A smile tugged at my lips as I pressed them to the back of her head. “What did I say about thanking me?”

I suspected this would be a running theme in our life, but I never wanted her to feel like she owed me. She didn’t. I loved her and I took care of the people I loved.

Her fingers tightened around mine. She was still shaking, but less now. Every few minutes her breath would catch with a quiet sob and a tear would fall on my hand before she’d press herself closer. Like she wished she could just disappear in my arms.

“I meant what I said to them.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “At the rink.”

“I know.”

“I’m done going back there, Harry. I’m done.”

“Then you’re done.”

She didn’t have to justify anything to me. I was on her side. Always.

TWENTY-FIVE

I’d never felt safer than I did in Harry’s arms. My body was still shaking slightly, and I couldn’t tell if it was from shock, adrenaline, emotional upheaval, or all of the above. Tonight had unleashed fears that I’d held close to my heart for years—and revealed some truths I’d been too scared to face.

But through it all, Harry had been there, just like he was now with his chest flush against my back and his legs tucked behind mine. His arm was around me, holding me securely. I didn’t feel judged for crying or for my outburst at the rink.

I felt loved.

And I wanted to hold on to that feeling with both hands.

I’d been crying off and on for the last hour. My eyes were swollen, my throat raw, and I’d gone through the entire box of tissues on the nightstand. But the tears had finally stopped and now curiosity was getting the best of me.

“What happened after I left?”