Page 35 of Forging Legacy

I don’t know how I grew up around all of this unwavering support and love and still managed to cling to the idea that I’m an outsider in their midst. Exhaustion muddles my thinking, and I fall asleep next to my dad on the couch, trusting–for now–that I have his support and that of my entire extended family.

I knew all along that they’d drop everything if I asked them to, but I never wanted to be the cause of any stress for them. But my dad is right—with all of them swinging their collective resources together, there is no need to think any of us will go down for this. I should have realized that they’dwantto help me, just like I want to help them, whether I’m hauling their asses to Costco or helping Wes chase down the love of his life after a misunderstanding.

When I wake up, the afterglow of support is still with me. I feel hopeful that I can finally move forward with my life on my own terms and that I have the potential for the sort of future I always dreamed of.

Except, the dream of making a name for myself in Guadalajara doesn’t feel as bright as it once did. I think instead of Fern’s face after I kissed her. She’s balancing on a thin wire, and she doesn’t have all of this family support that I do. Who and what will pull her back if her involvement with me threatens her goals?

Maybe my dad is wrong about that part of it. I can see the woman I want to be with, and I have no fucking idea how to make that happen without destroying either of our paths.

Chapter27

Fern

I findmyself downtown with nothing much to do by ten in the morning on the first day of spring break. Turns out, it really doesn’t take that long to deal with passport paperwork when you show up with all the forms you obsessively studied online.

I could go back home and binge old seasons ofCall the Midwifeand have myself an ugly cry, or I could hole up in the campus library and get ahead on my work for my remaining classes. There’s not much point to getting ahead other than trying to keep my mind off Wyatt and the haunted expression on his face the last time I saw him.

I bury myself in work at the library, finishing papers that aren’t due for another month, finalizing calculations on math equations the professors intended to take all semester to solve. Each time a memory of Wyatt’s body touching mine bubbles up to my consciousness, I growl, sharpen my pencil, and dig into my scratch paper hard enough to mar the wood surface of the desk.

Eventually, there’s nothing left for me to do or grade or write. And my mind is still a hot mess of anxiety over London and heartbreak over the impossibility of meeting Wyatt when I can’t ever have anything meaningful with him. I decide to find Thora, who said she is working concessions for the Forge and Hot Metal pro soccer teams. Of course, it’s the pro soccer teams.

I check the time—the games start at 4 p.m. but it’s just past noon. Hopefully, I can catch her on the phone, at least before she has to report to work.

“Fern! Where are you?” I hear a lot of noise in the background. She’s either on a bus full of drunk people en route to the game, or she’s making her way through a tailgate outside the stadium.

I sigh. “The library.”

Thora scoffs. “I knew you would be. Hey, someone didn’t show up for their shift. Want to come pick it up and at least earn a little money while you’re moping?”

Usually, I’d say yes to something like this in a heartbeat, but I’m not feeling up to crowds or feeling able to concentrate on food orders, for that matter. “Thanks, but I’ll just go home and mope in peace and quiet.”

“Is this still about Mr. Orgasmic?” I hear a slam, and then the background noise fades. Thora has moved somewhere she’s able to talk.

“Can you not call him that?” I groan. “But yes. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Look, I get that he’s very sad, and that hot possum pout is very attractive. There are many, many examples of this in television canon. But you have shit going on, Fern. What if you find someone else to bang who is actually casual? Just go get your rocks off. Like a man would!”

I rest my head on my hands on the desk in the basically empty library. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of sexual freedom, Thor. It’s not just that he’s sad and it’s not just that I want him because I can’t have him. I think I like him and his dumb car and the way he looks at me when I talk about math…”

“Ugh, you sound like you haven’t heard anything I’ve told you about the horror stories I see at the legal clinic.”

I bite my lip. I know Thora knows a bit about Wyatt’s legal challenges. She’s right that she’s told me all sorts of scary stories about men with legal troubles. Stalking. Tax evasion. Credit fraud. They all manage to find women and dupe them out of their life savings. “The good news here is that I don’t have any assets to be duped out of,” I tell her.

She sighs. “Trust me. He’s not looking to take anything from you. I just mean … I shouldn’t say anything.” There is another clatter in the background, and I wonder how much longer she’ll be able to talk.

“What shouldn’t you say? You always say what you shouldn’t.”

“Ha. Fair.” She takes a deep breath. “I just mean … sometimes things escalate. In addition to getting in trouble for boning a student, you might be in danger. Hypothetically. If you hitch your wagon to this guy.”

I hadn’t considered that if Wyatt might be in danger from his bio father, anyone he cares about would be, too. I have to assume that’s what Thora is referring to, based on what Wyatt has told me about how desperately he wants to change his name and be rid of that association as best he can. But how would I be impacted? I groan and start packing up my things. Better to head home and induce a cry via television. “I know you’re right that I should just let it all fade into a beautiful memory.”

“A beautiful, orgasmic memory you can call up while you’re living the high life in fucking London as a superstar genius fellow in super math school.”

She’s right. I have a lot on the line, and Wyatt is complicated. Being with him would be complicated and dangerous for many reasons. We hang up when someone starts shouting for Thora to hook up kegs of IC Lite.

I head home, wondering what Thora knows specifically about Wyatt’s situation, about what his father might have done to escalate things enough that the student law clinic is aware. My phone starts pinging rapidly when the train exits the tunnel, heading south to my neighborhood.

Mom is checking in, of course, but so is Wyatt.

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