Page 59 of When Hearts Collide

I was this close to losing my twin and best friend, the only person on this planet who seemed to understand me without me having to say anything.

A lump formed in my throat as I turned the bracelet over and smoothed my fingers over the sturdy leather. A small inscription decorated the silver clasp:

“Let all that you do be done in love.”

- 1 Corinthians 13:4

A burning sensation appeared behind my eyes. I locked my jaw before whispering, “What’s this?”

“I got one too.” He held up his wrist with an identical bracelet dangling from it. “This is a present for your sorry ass and to tell you, I forgive you for your stupidity, even though you never believed me when I told you before. Don’t think I didn’t notice your sulking and performative groveling this past year. I miss my jackass of a brother, the one who gives me no bullshit. You would’ve done the same thing for me if you were in my shoes. So quit it and forgive yourself. You’re fucking annoying me.”

I gnawed my bottom lip, my skin suddenly feeling warm for another reason outside of the blistering heat.

“Love you too, bro,” I muttered, hiding a grin, before slipping the bracelet on my wrist. I shoved him in the ribs, on his good side, of course.

I shouldn’t have yelled at him. He nearly gave up his life for me.

The thoughts echo in my mind, drawing me back to the present. I press my forehead against the window in the quiet office, wishing I were anywhere but here—running in the large fields, surrounded by towering trees, watching colorful birds soaring in the skies, feeling the wind whipping on my face.

Anywhere but here.

The three sheets of paper weigh heavily in my hand.

The students each take a packet and pass the stack to the next person to repeat the cycle. The chairs are arranged in a circle today for our first JEAP committee meeting. We’ll be going over the cases to be reviewed this year prior to funneling our recommendations to the NYUC Ethics Committee for their official disciplinary ruling.

One case is like the stories Mom read to me when I was little—the parables and warnings of the consequences of poor decisions made by weak humans.

Weak humans like me.

Millie sits across from me, but I can still smell the scent of her vanilla and jasmine lingering in the space between us. I can practically feel the heat radiating from her, which has nothing to do with the scorching heatwave going on outside.

She’s a picture of radiance again, her thick hair tied in a loose knot on top of her head, with a few wispy tendrils framing her pinkened face, which is blooming like the most beautiful of roses. She’s gnawing on her full lip before soothing each bite with a quick swipe of tongue.

I shouldn’t look at her. Shouldn’t stare at her. Shouldn’t notice how perfect the pink of her tongue is.

What’s documented in the paper is clearly a warning for me from the fates.

The students flip through the flimsy pages, and I wait for her to get to the third case on the last page.

I know precisely when she reaches it.

Her eyes dart up, her lips parting. She swallows, her gaze flickering back to the black text on white pages—there are really no shades of gray—before returning to me again.

“Tell me, class, what case interests you the most?” I ask, my eyes not leaving hers. I watch the blues darken and a flush creeps up her smooth skin.

“The third case. Professor student affair. I mean, it’s wrong, but it’s so juicy,” someone volunteers, and the rest of the class laughs.

Millie’s face pales and I grip my set of case summaries tightly, feeling the thin edges slicing my palms, most likely giving me a paper cut, but I barely notice.

“These are actual cases the Ethics Committee will rule on this year. I must remind you, all of you signed nondisclosure agreements before beginning the quarter. The repercussions will be severe if anyone violates these regulations. It’s a privilege to offer our insights and we must not take this responsibility lightly.” I tear my eyes away from my biggest temptation and sweep them over the circle of students.

“If anyone at any time feels uncomfortable, you may recuse yourself from the cases and instead, will be given an independent assignment for completion.” I swallow, a rope slowly cinching around my lungs. “This is a safe space.”

You fucking hypocrite. Maxwell’s words during our phone call on my hunting trip almost two years ago ring loud in my ear. Of course he knows me.

My eyes meet hers again, finding her forehead crinkling, those damn perceptive eyes of hers all too seeing. She cocks her head to the side as if reading every thought in my mind.

How I’m the worst possible person to be on this case.

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