Page 138 of Boiling Point
“Fine. Bill made a good point—I’m the only one who can set the record straight. Sloane won’t back down or admit her role in all this, but if I go in and tell them what’s actually true, I can speak to your character. How you’d never behave the way you’re being accused of. Bill can too, sure, but I have a front-row seat. And nothing to lose.”
I laughed, the sound a dry rasp in my throat. “You have everything to lose, darling. You’re about to start at SMU. Don’t fool yourself into thinking Dallas is far enough away or that a bigger school is big enough to hide in. Don’t you see? If you go on record—if your name gets attached to any of this, the fallout will follow you. It never goes away. And I’m speaking from experience here.”
She absorbed it the way she did everything—without flinching, without showing where it struck. “About that…”
“Which part?”
“SMU.” She inhaled, her jaw set. I nearly reached for her hand again, but I held back. “Tomorrow’s July first,” she continued. “That’s the notification deadline. I haven’t confirmed enrollment yet.”
I stared, uncomprehending for a beat, as the bottom dropped out of my chest. “You haven’t notified?”
She shook her head, hair swishing softly over her shoulders.
“Gabrielle, no. Absolutely not. You are not giving up your future for any of this—least of all for me.” My voice had gone sharp, louder than intended, but I didn’t care. “I’ve already stolen so much from you. I won’t take this as well.”
She gave me a faint smile—the kind that said she’d rehearsed this and knew every line I was about to speak. “Will you shut up and let me explain?”
“It had better be the argument of your life,” I muttered, arms crossed.
She shifted in her seat, subtle as a gymnast’s pivot on a balance beam. “Yes, SMU’s engineering program is amazing. And yes, it’s the obvious choice. But the only reason I applied there was so I wouldn’t be too far from you. I wanted a life with you. And, at the time, that meant you’d still be at Page.” She flicked a glance at me—cocky, almost, if not for the sheen of fear behind it. “But that’s not a factor anymore. I’d rather we take a beat and figure out what comes next. Together.”
“Gabrielle, it’s too late to apply anywhere else. You know that, right?”
“For the fall, sure.” She shrugged—a sun-warmed roll of her shoulders, like she’d never been burdened by a thing. “But I can take core classes online for a semester or two. Comp sci, calculus, whatever. I won’t fall behind, I promise.” She changed lanes to pass a slow-moving horse trailer.
“You can still accept the offer,” I said. “The deadline hasn’t passed. You could be in Dallas in six weeks. I’ll come with you, if that’s what you want. You know I’d go anywhere.”
She smiled at the road. “And do what? You think the Cartwrights—or their sycophants—will just let us start over an hour down the interstate? It’ll follow us, Cal. All of it. Sloane’s dad is on every board in the Metroplex. I guarantee he’s already making calls.” She pointed to a gleaming blue glass spear jutting up from the Dallas skyline. “Isn’t that their building? Cartwright Tower?”
I watched the spire flicker in the sun, the daylight fracturing along its surface. She was right—the scandal would trail us if we stayed. That was the beauty and the poison of America: reinvention was possible, but only if you were willing to cut loose every anchor.
She swerved around a gravel-streaked semi and exhaled, slow and steady. “I don’t regret any of it,” she said. “I’d do it all again.”
“Gabrielle—”
“Let’s just regroup, Cal.” Her voice softened, the edge giving way to resolve. She signaled, slipped into the HOV lane, and let the world blur past us at eighty miles an hour. “We can go anywhere. Anywhere we want. No constraints. Unmoored.”
I considered what it actually meant to be unmoored. I’d never been that, not really. Not when I’d first slipped the velvet leash of my family. Not even now, after my father’s death and the second implosion of my career. I looked at Gabrielle—gilded in profile, emerald eyes fixed ahead—and knew she was my tether point now. My lifeline. Nothing else mattered. I would go anywhere, do anything, be anyone—for her.
She caught me staring. Color crept into her cheeks. “What?”
“Where do you want to go?”
She licked her lips, eyes on the bright ribbon of freeway. “Somewhere I choose for myself this time. Not because it’s close, or safe, or what anyone else expects—because it’s right.” She glanced at me, a faint smile curling at the corner of her mouth. “And not just for me. For us.” She drummed the wheel, thinking. “But since you’re asking…let’s aim for someplace with amazing food and temperatures that don’t make me want to peel off my skin. Mountains might be nice. Maybe somewhere with actual seasons—not just ‘hot’ and ‘surface of the sun.’” She let the idea hang—sounding shy at first, then more sure-footed—before turning it back on me. “Where do you want to go?”
I didn’t answer right away. Just watched the landscape rush past, mile by mile, the city giving way to rolling farmland. “Wherever you are,” I said finally. “That’s home.”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile that followed was real. I reached over, threaded my fingers through hers, and held tight.
“But if you’re after specifics…” I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “Crisp air. Snow in winter. Trees that actually change color. Somewhere I can research and write. Maybe even teachagain.” I brushed my lips over her knuckles. “And build us a life where no one gives a damn what we were—only who we are.”
“Sounds perfect. If we weren’t in a moving vehicle, I’d climb over there and kiss you.”
I grinned. “We’ve got twenty miles until we’re home. Let me have a shower first, and you can do anything you want.”
I loved how I made her blush.
Gabrielle braked gently for a construction zone, orange cones flashing past in neat formation.
