Page 17 of Ruined Wolfsbane

Great.

“Sure,” I mumble, face heating at the awkward position I’m in. I’m sure even the tips of my ears are bright red with how embarrassed I am.

Malachi Grimm stands up smoothly and reaches out his hand. I put my hand in his, noticing how warm it is. His hand also isn’t soft. It’s callused like he does manual labor all day. He pulls me up effortlessly, like I weigh nothing. His hand rests on my waist to steady me as I get to my feet.

This position isn’t any better. I’m pressed against his front. I hastily step back before I can do anything to further humiliate myself, like press my hips against his to feel if he’s as big as he looks.

No. Nope. Hell no. I need to stop thinking about that.

He’s my professor.

I’m pretty sure coming on to a professor is against WHU’s code of conduct, and I can’t afford to get kicked out.

I back up a step further, like I can outrun my thoughts.

At my retreat, Malachi turns to open one of the curtains. When I don’t wince at the light, he opens the other two.

Moving to his desk, he gestures for me to sit opposite him like yesterday, and I do. At the thought of the last time I was in his office, my anger comes rushing back. I stiffen in my seat, wondering how I forgot.

Seeing me go rigid, Malachi sighs. “You weren’t who I was angry at yesterday.”

I let out a disbelieving snort. “Oh yeah? Who were you judging, then?”

“Whoever’s paying your tuition,” Malachi grits out. At my raised brows and confused expression, he continues. “As your advisor, I have access to your records. You don’t have a scholarship or loans. Someone pays your hefty tuition outright. Yet, whoever it is can’t be bothered to get you a uniform that fits?”

My stomach sinks the longer he talks. I’d almost prefer he judge me, instead of digging deeper into my home life.

Opening my mouth to offer a half-baked denial, Malachi cuts me off. “Don’t. Don’t even think about lying to me again. You’re not ready to tell me what’s going on. I get it. I won’t push… for now.” He reaches under his desk to pull out an overflowing shopping bag. He scoots it over his desk toward me. “Here are five sets of uniforms. I got both blazers and sweaters, so you have options.”

Stunned speechless, I just stare at the bag of uniforms.

Each uniform is around $200, so that’s over $1,000 of clothes sitting on his desk. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I debate refusing the uniforms. I thought Malachi just ordered one skirt, but having more than one uniform set does sound nice, especially with my one blazer being a bloody mess currently.

With how expensive WHU tuition is, I doubt Patrick will notice an extra $1,000 when he pays next. Hoping the uniforms won’t come back to bite me, I decide to accept them. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Briar. I talked with my brothers about accommodations. We worked out a schedule based on how much participation you need to make up. You’ll meet with Xander on Mondays at 3:10. I’ll meet with you on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 3:40. And Bastian will meet with you on Wednesdays and Fridays at 3:10. Does that work for you?”

“I can’t ask you to waste so much time on me! I’m sure you have better things to do than work with one student so much.” I’m floored that they would be willing to put in so much work with me.

“Good thing you’re not asking us, then. We’re offering. Besides, making up your participation points in mine and Bastian’s class is the only way you’ll pass.”

My shoulders slump at that. I need to graduate from college to access my trust fund to take care of Ava. I guess I know what I’m doing with my afternoons all semester. “Okay, do we start this week?”

“No. We’ll start next week.”

“Sounds good. Am I free to leave?” Unlike yesterday, I’m not eager to get out of here. I actually like talking with Malachi when he isn’t being a judgmental ass.

“Do you have plans for lunch?” Malachi pulls out a lunch box and puts it on his desk as he talks.

My stomach grumbles at the reminder that I didn’t have dinner or breakfast. I forgot to pack a lunch this morning, too. I don’t really want to go back to Patrick’s house sooner than I need to, though. “Um, no. I forgot to pack my lunch.”

“I brought extra. Here’s half.” Malachi pushes half a sandwich, a lidded bowl of pasta, and a cupcake to my side of the desk. The caprese sandwich and pesto pasta smells heavenly. I try not to drool at the chocolate cupcake. I’m a sucker for anything chocolate.

But I don’t want to steal his lunch. “I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

“Eat,” Malachi orders. I hold back an eye roll at his demand. He really is one of the bossiest people I’ve ever met.

Still not feeling all the way healed from the concussion, I swallow my pride and dig into the lunch. It’s really freaking good. At the first bite of juicy tomatoes, tangy balsamic glaze, and smooth mozzarella, I moan.

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