Page 42 of Forging Legacy

Mom closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “He tipped off the reporter. He was able to speak with the admissions office, too, since he had your personal information.” She points a finger at the ceiling. “But your Aunt Juniper and your dad’s foundation are mandating training for any public-facing university employees, reminding them about the rules and who is allowed to access student data.”

I rock back on my chair, tugging on my hair. I thought I was past all this mess. The stress of it creeps up and over me, not quite to the level where I had that panic attack back in Pittsburgh…but not far from it.

Dad squeezes my arm. “I want to say a few things, okay? First of all, you know I started my career in the UK. The competition is excellent, the coaching is world-class, and there’s no language barrier for you.”

I bristle at his mention of the UK. I stare at him and Mom, wondering how much they know about Fern and if it’s weird to feel excited about this suggestion.

Dad folds his hands on the table and continues. “The shared language would be really useful when you’re working on your mental game.” He points to his head. “Your mother and I feel sick that we didn’t check in with you about your past, what you’ve been through.”

I growl. “I’m over all that. You did your part. I had therapy for years.” I’m not really over it … I’m just distracted by thoughts of moving closer to Fern without any risks to her career. But she hasn’t reached out, and she told me she wanted space. She might not appreciate me showing up in town with my caravan of issues.

Wes snorts. “Dude, I’m in therapy now. I don’t know how anyone would deal with the pressure of pro-sports without therapy, and that’s without someone trying to sabotage my life.”

Cara smiles sadly and nods. “Also, in therapy. And, you know, someone did try to sabotage my life. So, I’m here if you ever want to talk about that.”

“I definitely don’t want to talk about it. I came here to forget about all of that. Look, I appreciate that you’re all concerned about school, and I definitely appreciate that you’re behind me with legal resources. I can’t wait to play tomorrow with you here. Family is everything to me. You all know that.”

Dad crosses his arms, and Mom leans her head on his shoulder. “You can’t run away from those challenges, Wyatt. They’re faster than you, and they have more endurance. The only way to slay those dragons is to sit down with them and talk through it. With professional support.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Coach.” I leave the table and head into my bedroom, slamming the door.

Eventually, I hear my family head out of my room, leaving me alone with the clawing, sickening realization that they’re right. About all of it. I fucking know I need to get my head straight about all this stuff with Nick, and I have no idea why I’m reeling at the thought of starting up therapy again.

That’s a lie. I know it’s hard work and exhausting, and they’re right that I’m using all my extensive energy on my game and navigating a new space where I can’t even read the menus at restaurants. If I’m honest, I’m not trying too hard to assimilate here. At least half of my sour mood stems from missing the competent, kind, and sexy-as-hell math genius whose life I almost blew up. I pull out my phone and stare at a picture I snapped of us at the ski house. My heart lurches in my chest, missing her. Is it even possible for me to transfer to the same city as Fern without pissing her off?

I search her name online and smile, reading the profile her university put up about her interests in … advanced math words I don’t know how to pronounce. London is a big place, and I’ll be traveling fifty percent of the time. If she tells me to fuck off, I can disappear from her life just as easily there as I can here. But what if she’s happy to see me? What if things could be better once both of us have a stronger foundation?

I wait a few hours to see if any of this starts to feel ridiculous, but the opposite happens. I start to get excited about the potential of a transfer. Of a change in plans that might bring me near the best woman I’ve ever met.

I text Brian to see if there’s space in my contract to put me on loan.

Chapter32

Fern

I can't believeI let Thora talk me into working concessions at the Black and Gold game. The stadium is packed with rowdy students and alumni, all here to cheer on our football team one last time before graduation. The air is electric with school spirit, but I'm just not feeling it.

"Come on, Fern,". Thora nudges me as we fill up cups with ice. "This is our last hurrah! We've got to make the most of it."

I force a smile, but my heart's not in it. “What does it say about us that our hurrah is working while other students party?”

She laughs. “Totally on brand for us.”

I should be over the moon right now - I've secured my fellowship in London, I’m on track to ace all my classes, and I'm about to graduate with honors. But all I can think about is Wyatt.

Thora must sense my mood because she gives me a knowing look. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"

I bite my lip, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "I can't help it, Thor. What we had ... it was intense. I've never felt that way before." This is the first I’ve felt up to discussing it out loud. I’ve spent the weeks since spring break in a sort of waking coma despite Thora’s efforts to drag me out of my own funk.

She sighs, handing a customer their change. "I get it, babe. But you said it yourself - it's for the best. You're both heading in different directions."

"I know, I know. It's just ... he gave up so much for me. He left school, Thora. To protect me." My throat tightens at the memory. I don’t know what to make of his gesture and subsequent disappearance. I did tell him not to contact me. I squirm, wondering if I should reach out to him.

Thora's eyes soften. "That just shows how much he cares about you, Fern. But you can't let that hold you back. You've worked too damn hard to get where you are."

She's right; I know she is. But that doesn't stop my mind from wandering to stolen moments with Wyatt - the way his hands felt on my skin, the intensity in his eyes when he looked at me, the depth of the connection between us. Was that love? Do I love him? I don’t even know how to recognize that emotion.

Thora must read my thoughts because she bumps my hip with hers. "Hey, no more moping. There will be plenty of hot, smart, non-student men in England. Trust me."

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