Page 11 of Forging Legacy

Fern’s voice is still soft, so it is different from her tone in class. "I know we don't know each other that well, but I'm here for you. If you ever need to talk or just need someone to listen."

Her words wrap around me, soothing the raw edges of my pain. I manage a small smile. "Thank you, Fern. That means a lot."

She returns the smile, her hand sliding down to gently squeeze mine. "Anytime."

We stand there for a moment, the silence between us comfortable and understanding. “I really messed up a few months ago and reached out to him.”

She winces. “I went through a phase like that. Expecting my dad to be a real adult. Like TV dads.”

I nod. “I figured … I hadn’t talked to him in over ten years. Maybe I was misremembering all the things that happened before Mom left him. It was dumb of me to think we’d just reconnect like friends or something. All I did was remind him that Mom has money now.”

Her eyes are warm and understanding. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. That must have really hurt. And now he’s … being cruel?”

I nod and don’t say anything else because what is there to say? Finally, I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. "So, yeah, I’m going home now. Thanks, teach.” I add that last part as a reminder to myself that she’s offering this support as part of some duty from the university. I’m pretty sure they all have to look out for students’ well-being. But she looks a little stricken when I say it.

Fern nods, regardless. "Okay. My offer stands. Whenever you need it."

"I'll remember," I promise. "And Fern ... thanks again. For being here."

She smiles, warm and genuine. She gives a wave and crosses the street toward a crowded bus stop. I look away and wander home, trying to forget.

Chapter10

Fern

It takesme ages to calm down after teaching my recitation section every Friday. I know the material pretty well, and I think I’m doing a good job of keeping the students engaged and learning the material. But it’s justso much workto keep my cool in front of them and project a confident aura.

Especially when I’ve got Wyatt sitting there, hot and vulnerable. I found myself wanting to wrap him in my arms the other day, even though I knew I couldn’t. I need to remember to look up resources for students like him who are having issues with their families. I’m sure the other teaching assistants are probably better equipped to handle those things. All I had to offer him was a stupid hand squeeze and listening ear.

I have so much riding on this class going well…so much. The stress of that alone would make my back sweat but add in Wyatt sitting in the circle of students each week, staring me down with his dark eyes. He always looks like he did when we were naked together—intense, dirty, vulnerable, and dominant all mixed together.

My phone buzzes in my bag, shaking me out of my thoughts. It’s a text from Thora about meeting up for lunch. I smile and send her a thumbs-up. I have just enough time to sit in my cubicle across from Professor Yoon’s office and chip away at my own coursework.

Saving my easier classes for my final semester was a pretty slick move. Sure, I had to work like a maniac last semester on all the advanced math classes, but I needed those completed before my grad school application anyway. I’m staring down a few months of a more relaxed pace.

I’ve been really enjoying my art class, which surprises me because I pretty much never thought about art once before this. This week, I’ve been thrilled to read about how fractals are present in the work of famous artists like Jackson Pollock and Katsushika Hokusai.

I happily spend an hour on my paper for art history before my timer goes off to meet Thora in the cafeteria. She’s already sprawled out at a table with a bowl of soup when I arrive. I don’t want to interrupt her since she hasn’t yet heard about her law school acceptance, and I know she’s a bit of a mess. By the time I wait in line for my sandwich, and make my way over to her, she’s got ink on her nose and has propped one of her pre-law textbooks on her empty soup bowl.

“Hey,” I whisper, sliding into the seat across from her. “You gonna make it?”

She looks up at me and blows her hair out of her eyes. “To be determined. Ugh, is it past noon already?” She glances around at the crowded cafeteria.

I nod, mouth full of sandwich. I swallow and tell her, “I don’t mind a working lunch if you need to get caught up. I’m reading about fractals as a tool to identify forgery in fine art.”

Thora rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what any of that means. None of it.”

I laugh. “That’s okay.” I wave a hand at her spread of books. “What are you frazzled about?”

“Ugh, I’m in this stupid argument class that’s half full of jocks who give zero shits and half full of pre-law students who really need the credits. And, of course, the professor stuck me with another pre-law student for this project.”

I frown. “Why is that bad?”

“Because now I have to actually collaborate and talk through the problems.” She slams a book shut and picks up her soup bowl. I laugh as she licks at the rim. “God, this is good. So salty. Anyway, if I had a jock partner, I could just do the whole thing my way, be in charge, make sure it’s all perfect. You know?”

I do know. We get along because we both have that desperate need for perfection and control. If we mess up, we both know the stakes and how even one lousy grade can set off a staircase of unintended consequences. I pat her hand. “I’m sure you and the other pre-law asshole will make a fine argument about …” I glance at the books she’s been packing in her bag. “…the effectiveness of standardized tests. Thora that sounds boring as hell.”

She nods. “It is. Did I mention we couldn’t come to an agreement about our topic, and the professor had toassignone to us?” Shaking her head, Thora fixes her ponytail and then leans forward on her elbows, chin in her hands. “How was recitation today?”

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