Page 128 of Boiling Point
“But the board cleared you.”
“Technically, yes. But you and I both know that the damage is done.” I dropped a stack of research notebooks into the box. “If I stayed, I’d be looking over my shoulder, second-guessing every interaction. I can’t live like that.”
“I thought for sure you’d stay, even if only out of spite.”
I chuckled darkly as I slid the lid over the banker’s box with a tight, satisfying seal.
“Where will you go?”
“I’ve got a few feelers out. A visiting professorship in Switzerland. A private research post in Austin. Possiblyconsulting for an aerospace startup. Or I might take a sabbatical. Get some real writing done for once. I haven’t decided.”
He nodded, eyes drifting over the stripped shelves. “You’ll hate Switzerland.”
I busied my hands with a tangle of power cords, winding them into neat, choking loops. “Probably.”
Bill hovered in silence, hands shoved deep in his pockets, knuckles straining the fabric. The question gathered like a storm front over a flat horizon.
He shut the door.
“Cal, since you’re leaving anyway, I have to ask.” He squinted, as if bracing for the answer. “Was there any truth to the rumors?”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I looked up, surprised less by the question than the timing. Bill stared at the far wall, where sunlight leaked through a narrow slit in the blinds.
“I’m flattered you think my life is that interesting.” I shifted the box lid, buying a second before I went on. “But do you really believe I’d risk my career—never mind my dignity—just to coax a student into bed? I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of finding someone of age and above board.” I punctuated my words with a tight smile. “Should I ever be so inclined.”
The smile held, but a muscle ticked in my jaw.
Bill dropped his gaze, letting the silence grow roots. He picked at the frayed hem of his shirt. Then, as offhandedly as he could manage, he said, “So, I heard Gabrielle Clark has withdrawn from Page.”
The statement caught me off guard, a sharp flick to the solar plexus. I let the shock settle, leaning on old habits of detachment. “Did she?” I kept my voice as casual as possible. “That’s unfortunate. She was one of the best I’ve taught.”
“Same here. I was hoping we could lure her out of engineering and into a physics major.” He grunted, belly straining his shirt buttons. “I haven’t heard where she’s going—only that she’s not coming back.” He paused, fingering the hem again. “Any idea why?”
I shook my head. “Not a clue. But she’s brilliant and quite capable. She’ll do well—wherever she lands.”
He nodded, but the twinkle was gone.
My phone skittered across the desk. Gabrielle.
SOS. All hell just broke loose online. Can you talk?
I glanced up at Bill, careful not to betray urgency. “Would you mind giving me a minute? I need to make a call.”
He nodded, stood, and made for the door. “Sure, no problem. I’ll be in my office.” The latch caught with a soft click.
I waited for the echo of Bill’s heavy tread to fade, then thumbed Gabrielle’s name and hit Call.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hey.” Her voice was brisk, all business.
“Hey,” I echoed, voice softening instinctively. “What’s going on?” I kept my tone and words neutral, conscious that the walls were paper thin.
“Yeah, so—social media just exploded. About you. I don’t even know where to start. It’s a bloodbath.”
“Same old, or something new?”
“Sloane Cartwright has been on a posting spree since eight a.m. She’s got, like, three different threads saying the school ‘let you off’ because you’re a ‘fancy British physicist with connections.’ Somehow, she got the board’s official finding—probably from her dad—and posted it online.”
“So much for confidentiality.”
