Chapter 9 - THE MOVE OUT

Jules POV

The campus security guard checks his watch for the third time in five minutes.

"You've got twenty more minutes, Miss Rowan," he says, not bothering to hide his impatience. "Then I lock up the building."

I nod without looking at him, continuing to fold clothes into the cardboard boxes Maya brought from the campus bookstore. Everything I own has to fit into four boxes and two duffle bags. Twenty years of life reduced to what can be carried in one trip.

"This is insane," Maya mutters, throwing my textbooks into a box with more force than necessary. "Your dad seriously had security escort you to pack?"

"Apparently I'm a security risk now," I say, holding up the student athletic liaison badge I've worn proudly for two years. The plastic feels flimsy between my fingers.

The guard shifts uncomfortably. "Orders are orders, Miss."

I want to ask him if he has daughters. If he'd watch his own child get treated like a criminal for falling in love. But there's no point. He's just doing his job making sure the disgraced coach's daughter doesn't steal anything on her way out of the family home.

"Jules," Maya says softly, "you don't have to do this alone."

But I do. That's what the last four days have taught me I'm completely, utterly alone in this.

I pick up the framed photo from my nightstand me, Ethan, and Dad after last year's championship game. We're all grinning, covered in Gatorade and confetti. I look so happy, so secure in my place in their world.

"Trash or keep?" I ask, holding up the frame.

Maya's face falls. "Jules."

I drop it in the trash bag. The glass doesn't break, but something inside my chest does.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: Heard you're moving out. Good riddance. Team's better without distractions.

I show the message to Maya, who snatches the phone and starts typing furiously.

"Don't," I say, taking it back. "It'll just make things worse."

"Worse how?" Maya snaps. "They've already kicked you out, turned your family against you, and made you a campus pariah. What's worse than that?"

Death, I think but don't say. At least then the pain would stop.

I continue packing in silence, each item a small goodbye. The homecoming dress I wore when Ethan was crowned king. The Westfield Football t-shirt Dad gave me on my first day of high school. The charm bracelet from Mom with a tiny football for every championship.

"What about this?" Maya holds up my laptop.

"Keep," I say quickly. "I'll need it for classes."

If I can even afford to stay enrolled. Without Dad's financial support, I have maybe two months of tuition money saved from my part-time job at the campus writing center.

The security guard's radio crackles. "Building needs to be secured in fifteen minutes."

"Almost done," I call back, shoving the last of my toiletries into a bag.

My reflection catches in the mirror above my dresser. I look like a stranger—hollow-eyed, pale, wearing the same clothes I've had on for two days. When did I start looking so broken?

"Hey," Maya touches my shoulder gently. "You're going to get through this."

"Am I?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like my life is over."

"Your life is not over at nineteen," Maya says firmly. "It's just... changing direction."

Changing direction. Like this is some gentle course correction instead of a complete implosion.

I take one last look around the room I've slept in since I was seven years old. The walls are covered with academic achievement certificates, team photos, family vacation pictures. Evidence of a life that no longer belongs to me.

"Time's up," the guard announces.

Maya helps me carry the boxes downstairs while the guard follows, probably making sure I don't pocket any silverware on the way out.

The front door that I've walked through thousands of times feels different now. Like it's sealing shut behind me forever.

"My car's this way," Maya says, leading me toward the guest parking area.

As we load the boxes into her trunk, I catch sight of movement in the upstairs window. Dad, watching from his office. Our eyes meet for a split second before he steps back into the shadows.

"He's watching," I whisper.

Maya follows my gaze. "Maybe he's having second thoughts."

But I know better. Dad doesn't have second thoughts about discipline. If he's watching, it's to make sure I actually leave.

*******

We drive across campus in silence, past the football stadium where I used to feel so proud, so connected to something bigger than myself. Now it just looks like a monument to everything I've lost.

"You can stay as long as you need," Maya says as we pull up to her dorm. "Sarah's cool with it."

Her roommate Sarah is definitely not cool with it I saw her face when Maya asked but I'm grateful for the lie.

"Thank you," I say, meaning it more than she'll ever know.

We carry the boxes up to her third-floor room, and I stack them neatly in the corner. My entire life fits in a space smaller than my old closet.

"I should call the financial aid office tomorrow," I say, mostly to myself. "See about emergency assistance or work-study programs."

"Jules," Maya sits on her bed and pats the space beside her. "Can I ask you something?"

I join her, suddenly exhausted.

"Do you regret it?" she asks quietly. "The relationship with Adrian?"

The question hits me harder than I expected. Do I regret loving someone who abandoned me when things got difficult? Do I regret trusting someone who let others destroy my reputation to save his own?

"I regret how it ended," I say finally. "I regret that he didn't fight for us. But I don't regret loving him."

Even now, even after everything, I can't bring myself to regret the way he made me feel worthy of being chosen.

"That's something, at least," Maya says.

My phone buzzes with another unknown number: Saw you moving out. Daddy finally cut the princess off? Good. Maybe now you'll learn what consequences feel like.

This time I don't show Maya. I just delete it and turn off my phone.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announce, grabbing clean clothes from one of the boxes.

In Maya's tiny shared bathroom, I stand under the lukewarm spray and finally let myself cry. Not the angry tears or desperate tears I've been shedding for days, but the deep, grieving tears of someone who's lost everything that defined them.

When I emerge twenty minutes later, Maya has made up a bed on the floor with extra pillows and blankets.

"It's not much," she says apologetically.

"It's perfect," I lie down and stare at the ceiling. "Maya? What if I can't come back from this?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if this is who I am now? The girl who destroyed her family for a boy who didn't want her. The cautionary tale people tell their daughters."

Maya is quiet for a long moment. "Then you get to decide who you become next."

I close my eyes and try to imagine a version of myself that exists beyond this pain. But all I see is darkness and the long, uncertain road ahead.

And somewhere across campus, Adrian is probably sleeping peacefully in his bed, relieved to be free of the complication I represented.

The thought should make me angry, but I'm too tired for anger anymore.

I'm too tired for anything except the slow, painful work of figuring out how to exist in a world where I'm no longer anyone's daughter, sister, or girlfriend.

Just Jules. Alone. Starting over from nothing.

"Tomorrow I'll help you figure out the financial aid stuff," Maya whispers in the darkness.

"Thank you," I whisper back, grateful to have at least one person who hasn't given up on me yet.