Chapter 30
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Chapter 30
Bree
“Dear Miss Morgan,
It has come to our attention that your online presence does not align with our criteria for admission. Unfortunately, while we would have loved to have you here at our university-your grades, your demonstrated ‘team spirit’ for school activities, and your letters of recommendation are all outstanding and align perfectly with the reputation we uphold at Sierra Ridge-recent developments have forced us to reconsider.
We will give you one week to get your affairs in order. If your online presence is not addressed and brought under control within that time frame, we will have no choice but to revoke your scholarship offer.
We sincerely hope you resolve this matter.
Kind regards,
Charlotte Gobsmann
Dean of Admissions, Sierra Ridge.”
The words blurred on my phone screen the moment I finished reading them. My hands shook so violently I almost dropped my phone. After I woke up that morning and saw the email waiting in my inbox, I didn’t even bother getting dressed. I stumbled straight to the little bathroom Rachel and I shared, locked the door behind me, and broke apart.
I pressed both palms against the cold sink and bent over it as silent sobs racked my body. I didn’t want Rachel to hear me-God, I didn’t want anyone to hear me-but the tears wouldn’t stop. They streamed hot and fast down my cheeks, dripping onto the porcelain. I bit my lip until I tasted blood just to keep my cries quiet.
Oliver had done it.
He’d actually done it.
He had sent the picture to the Dean of Admissions. Maybe he hadn’t signed his name to it, maybe he’d made it look anonymous-because that was so like him, wasn’t it? Cowardly. Careful. But
there was no doubt in my mind that he was behind it. Every bone in my body knew. And that knowledge wrecked me more than I thought possible.
Sierra Ridge wasn’t just a school to me. It was the dream I had clawed toward for years-the place where I’d be able to learn and grow further than anywhere else. A university with prestige and esteem so solid it could open any door I wanted after graduation. I had imagined walking across that campus a thousand times, imagined earning a recommendation letter from Dean Gobsmann
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herself.
And now?
That dream had been ripped right out from under me. It felt so far gone I couldn’t even see it anymore, like some distant star fading from view no matter how hard I reached for it.
I’d barely slept last night after Oliver’s threat. His words replayed over and over until I thought I’d lose my mind. Even now, even after reading that email, I kept twisting the situation around in my head, desperately searching for some explanation that made sense.
Sure, I knew I could no longer trust Oliver. But even for him, this felt extreme. Would he really ruin my entire future just because I’d been seen with someone else? It didn’t seem like something he’d think up all on his own.
No, this had Jenna written all over it. I could picture her perfectly-smirking as she whispered in his ear, feeding his jealousy, spinning lie after lie about me until he was ready to burn my life to the ground. She was probably right there with him somewhere in Europe, stoking the fire just to watch
me crumble.
A fresh sob clawed its way up my throat, but I forced it back. I couldn’t cry forever.
When I heard Rachel moving around in the main room, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to scrub away the redness. I gave myself a pep talk in the mirror, my voice a hoarse whisper. Something about finding a solution. About not giving up. About taking care of Mom, making her proud, proving I wasn’t as breakable as they thought I was.
By the time I stepped out of our hut, dressed in a simple tank top and my running tights, my head throbbed from holding back tears. The crisp morning air hit my face, stinging my still-swollen eyes.
And there he was. Gage.
He stood waiting outside, sunlight catching in his messy blond hair. That dazzling smile of his stretched across his face-until his gaze landed on me. The moment he saw my red eyes, his
entire expression shifted, his grin melting into concern.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, warm, threaded with worry. His brows furrowed as he stepped closer, big hands already reaching for me like he could fix everything with just his touch.
And God, I wanted to let him. I wanted to collapse into him and let his arms be my refuge. But nothing he could say or do would make this better. The pain wasn’t something he could chase
away with a hug or a kiss.
“Allergies,” I said instead, my voice small. I forced a weak smile and waved my hands dismissively, trying to sell the lie.
He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his eyes. The skepticism. The silent plea for me to tell him
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He didn’t press. He didn’t dig.
་་་་་་,,
wasn’t ready.
He simply reached for my hand, his warm fingers lacing with mine like it was the easiest thing in the world. And without another word, he led me toward the morning trail.
Even through the devastation hollowing me out inside, I felt it-the warmth of his palm against mine, the silent comfort in that one simple gesture. Oliver had never done that. Not once.
Not in school hallways, not at football games, not when I needed him most. He always said hand-holding wasn’t necessary, that we didn’t need to flaunt our relationship. And when I’d admitted that sometimes it made me insecure, his response had been a sharp, cruel dagger:
“If you need me to hold your hand to feel secure, Bree, you’re not mature enough to be in a relationship.”
My mom had told me that was ludicrous. She’d told me later-after everything happened-that Oliver’s excuse was just a smokescreen. That he’d wanted to hide. That he didn’t want to rub our relationship in Jenna’s face more than he had to.
But not Gage.
Gage didn’t care who saw. He wanted to hold my hand where everyone could see. He wanted the world to know there was something between us. And as long as no video or picture showed his face, I could protect him. I could make sure this nightmare stayed mine alone and didn’t touch his future.
I chanced a look up at him, drinking him in like he was the only beautiful thing left in the world. And maybe, in that moment, he was.
Gage looked devastating. Unfairly, almost painfully so. He wore a sleeveless black shirt that hugged every line of his chest and shoulders, each muscle outlined as if the fabric existed just to worship him. His biceps flexed lightly with each swing of his arm, veins tracing faint, tempting lines over sun-warmed skin. The shirt clung to his torso in a way that made me jealous of cotton, the fabric stretching across his chest like it had been made for him alone.
His black athletic shorts hung loosely over his thighs, giving teasing glimpses of his muscular legs as we walked. The shorts stopped just high enough that I caught flashes of toned calves, the kind honed by hours of running and training, by relentless discipline. His runner’s shoes looked broken in, well-used, the soles dusted with the dirt of a hundred trails. Ankle socks peeked above them, a
small detail I shouldn’t have found attractive but somehow did.
And then there was the pièce de résistance: his backwards cap. The hat had shoved his golden hair away from his face, tamed what his hands could never seem to. It pulled all that messy blond chaos out of his eyes, leaving his striking green gaze unobstructed. God help me, that cap did
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< Chapter 30 things to me.
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Gage’s hand squeezed mine gently, pulling me out of my shameless gawking. His bright green eyes found mine, warm and soft. He gave me a small smile that said everything he wasn’t voicing aloud. I could see it in his face-how much he wanted to ask again if I was okay, how much he
wanted to dig deeper. But he didn’t. He held himself back, gave me the space I wasn’t brave
enough to ask for.
That made me want to cry all over again.
When we reached the clearing where everyone gathered for morning runs, I let myself do
something small, something I hoped wouldn’t break me. I rested my head lightly against his
shoulder.
It wasn’t much. It wasn’t an admission of all the things breaking inside of me. But for me, it felt
monumental. A surrender, a silent plea for closeness.
I felt his nose brush against the top of my head, a subtle touch, as if he was saying without words: /
feel you. I’ve got you. Lean on me. And that acknowledgment… it steadied me in a way nothing else
had since I opened that email.
“Good morning, everyone,” Derek’s voice cut through the murmuring crowd, startling me enough
that I straightened slightly. His face was hard, more serious than I’d ever seen it. “It has come to my attention,” he began, his gaze sweeping over us like a hawk, “that there are people here who
don’t understand what camp life is supposed to be about.”
The shift in the crowd was immediate. Postures stiffened, murmurs died down. Derek rarely raised
his voice unless it mattered.
“This isn’t a popularity contest,” he continued sharply. “It isn’t a race to see who can hook up first,
and it certainly isn’t a place to use your status against others. This camp is supposed to build character, community, teamwork. Not tear people down.”
He paused, letting his words sink in, his eyes scanning every face until they landed somewhere
specific.
I felt Gage’s hand tighten around mine again. Curious, I followed his gaze. His jaw was locked, his green eyes blazing at-of course-Gabriella. She stood a few feet away, lips pursed, looking like someone who’d just been called out without name.
Derek continued, voice firm. “Which is why I spoke with the benefactors this morning before our
run. And they highly agreed with my solution.”
He let the pause linger a second too long before delivering the blow.
“I have permission to take your phones away.”
E
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didn’t flinch.
“Some of you,” his eyes flicked to Gabriella again, “have shown you’re not mature or responsible enough to have them. And because I believe in communal accountability, everyone will share the consequences. If you need your phone for an emergency, you can come to me. Use it for a quick call, and that’s it. Otherwise, they’ll stay locked in my safe.”
He crossed his arms. “After the morning run, you’ll line up, drop them into labeled ziplock bags. I’ve prepared one for each of you. If there’s an empty bag after breakfast, I’ll know. And do not test me on this. I’m not above calling you out publicly.”
“But Derek-” Gabriella’s voice broke into a whine, high and petulant.
“Enough!” Derek bellowed, the sound cutting through her protest like a whip crack. His brows furrowed sharply. “I’ve made my decision. And I won’t repeat myself.”
Silence fell.
I could feel the tears welling up again, stinging the backs of my eyes. Gage had done this-he had actually stopped her from being able to ruin anything else for us. He wasn’t even aware of the bigger problem, the larger picture, but he stepped in anyway. He figured out what had made me so uncomfortable and made sure it couldn’t happen again.
“Alright,” Derek barked, turning back toward the trail. “Let’s run.”
As the group started shifting, I tilted my face up toward Gage, blinking back tears. My voice was soft, shaky. “Thank you.”
He looked down at me, his free hand lifting to cradle my cheek. The warmth of his palm nearly undid me. “Don’t thank me,” he whispered, voice low and steady. “I’m here for you, Bree. Whatever you need.”
A fragile smile tugged at my lips. I rose on my toes, pressing a quick, trembling kiss to his mouth. He leaned down, stealing one more kiss of his own before straightening, his fingers brushing stray hairs from my face and tucking them neatly behind my ear.
“I hate seeing you cry,” he murmured, eyes searching mine with something fierce and tender all at once. “If there’s anything I can do to stop it, anything to make it better, tell me.”
I sniffled hard, nodding because words were too tangled in my throat. “I will.”
His grin tilted into that perfect, crooked smile that always made my chest flutter. “Come on, gorgeous.” He tilted his head toward the trail ahead, mischief glinting in his eyes. “We don’t wanna be last, do we?”
A laugh, shaky but real, slipped out of me. “We definitely do not.”
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He winked, and
that, we started running. His hand never let go of mine. Not once.
And for a fleeting, impossible moment, even with my whole world burning down around me, I felt
like the luckiest girl alive.
