Page 46 of Leashed

Chapter Eighteen

Sage rubbed her eyes and hunched over her desk, her phone tight to her ear. “I’m sorry, honey,” she grumbled, blinking to clear her vision. “I’ve just got back-to-back exams tomorrow, and I’m trying to cover everything one last time.”

Nixon sighed audibly. “If it’s such a chore to talk to me, I’ll text you my flight number and arrival time.” There was a pause and her phone vibrated. “Probably better to have it in writing for you anyway.”

Distracted by a contradictory statement in her notes, she hummed in agreement.

“It’s not a big deal if you fail,” he continued, his voice taking on a coddling tone. “You can always try again another time.”

Starring the statements with her pen, she snorted. “Not at fifteen hundred a course, I can’t. And not when I’m so close to finishing. Good luck at the banquet tonight, and I promise I’ll be in a better mood tomorrow night.”

“Hope so,” he retorted. “I called my sweet girl to hear her voice, not her whining. Love you.”

Biting down on her pen, she echoed him and ended the call.

Whining.

She’d worked double shifts Sunday. Double shifts Monday. Had double exams tomorrow.

She wasn’t whining.

She was panicking.

Pushing his dismissal of her exams to the back of her head, she dove back into her notes until hunger pulled her focus. Picking up her phone, she hunted through the kitchen for food as she replied to Bo’s day-old “hey” text.

Her phone rang moments later.

“She lives,” he said when she answered, his gravelly voice lower than usual.

“She studies,” she replied, slamming a cupboard door closed in victory, a can of soup in hand. “She works, and she studies, and she’s going to eat this soup like a boss.”

He laughed, a genuine laugh she didn’t think she’d ever heard from him. She liked it, the unrestrained low rumble before he cleared his throat. “Exam week?”

Dumping the soup into a bowl, she put it in the microwave. “Weeks. Two tomorrow, two next week. Plus that damn essay.”

He whistled over the sound of shop machines running in the background. “Screw that,” he grunted. “Impresses the hell out of me you pull that all off. It takes me an hour to write an email.”

Testing the soup’s temperature, she added another two minutes and leaned against the counter. “How’s work going?”

“Long and hard.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “You aren’t getting into my nice book with that,” she teased. “Page-folding, fight-picking beast.”

“I’m a beast, all right,” he retorted. “I’m just finishing up here. Need anything for a cram session?”

“No, I’m g—”

“There’s a word that should be used more. Cram. Crrrrrrammmm. I crammed it in—never mind. The more you say it, the dumber it sounds,” he rattled off. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Better. Seriously, though, I’ll drop by later with burgers and fries and force a break on you for an hour. Deal?”

Looking at the lukewarm soup in the microwave, she caved. “Deal.”

*

Bo balanced thetray of drinks and bag of food as Sage buzzed him into the complex. He decided to take the stairs instead of trying to free up a hand to press buttons on the elevator. She stood in her doorway waiting for him and his pace slowed as he approached. Her happiness over his arrival was visible in her eyes. Shaking it off, he gave her a once-over. “You look rough.”

She tossed him a withering glare, snatching the bag of burgers from his hand. “Must be nice to be young and genetically blessed.”

“I didn’t say you looked old or hideous.” He grinned. “And I’m neither young, nor blessed.”

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