009

SANCTUARY

~CHELSEA~

{Playlist suggestion: "Safe & Sound" by Taylor Swift feat. The Civil War}

The cut on my cheek stung as I wiped away dried blood in the employee bathroom. At least it wasn't deep enough for stitches. I dabbed antiseptic on it and winced.

Last night had been bad. After Samuel threw the mug, things escalated quickly. I'd managed to get Chase to his room and lock the door, but not before Samuel caught my face with his ring when I tried to block him.

Mom had just stood there crying, useless as always.

I had waited until they passed out drunk before helping Chase climb out his window. We'd spent the night at Zoe's place—her family never asked questions anymore when we showed up in the middle of the night.

Now, three hours before my shift officially started, Crawford Elite Academy stood silent and empty around me. I'd come early needing somewhere safe, somewhere quiet to think.

With a sigh, I grabbed my cleaning cart and headed out into the deserted hallways. The expensive paintings and polished trophy cases mocked me as I passed. So much wealth. So much waste.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Chase: ‘At Zoe's. Her mom made pancakes. You sure you don't want me to come with you to work?’

I typed back quickly: Chelsea: ‘Stay there. Rest. Take your meds. I'll pick you up after my shift.’

He sent back a thumbs-up emoji.

At least he was safe for now. We'd deal with Mom and Samuel later. Maybe it was finally time to find our own place, even if it meant an even smaller apartment in an even worse neighborhood.

Something tight unwound in my chest as I pushed my cart past the science wing and out the rarely-used side door.

The pathway was overgrown here, cracked concrete giving way to weeds and wildflowers. No one came to this forgotten corner of campus except me.

The greenhouse stood partially hidden behind old oak trees, its glass panels clouded with age and neglect. Half the school didn't even know it existed.

According to Emma Chen, it had been abandoned when they built the new state-of-the-art botany lab across campus five years ago.

I set my cart aside and pulled out the key I'd found months ago, tucked behind a loose brick. The door creaked as I pushed it open, familiar musty warmth washing over me.

Then I froze.

Someone was already inside.

A tall figure stood with his back to me, examining the small collection of plants I'd recovered and nurtured on the crumbling center table. The copper hair was unmistakable even in the dim light.

Kade Kingston.

My sanctuary. My secret place. The one thing at Crawford that was mine alone. And he had found it.

"What are you doing here?" My voice came out sharp, startling him.

He turned, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of me. Or maybe at the cut on my face. I resisted the urge to touch it.

"Chelsea," he said my name like he'd been caught doing something wrong. "I didn't…”

"How did you find this place?" I demanded, staying in the doorway. Ready to run if I needed to.

He gestured vaguely toward the main building. "I saw you come this way a few times after your shift. I got curious."

"So you followed me." The violation of it burned in my chest. "Like a stalker."

"Not exactly," he defended, but his eyes dropped, giving him away. "I just... wondered where you disappeared to every night."

I stepped fully inside, letting the door fall closed behind me. This place had been my refuge for months. The only spot at Crawford where I could breathe without feeling judged, where I could sit in silence without fear.

And now he had taken that too.

"These are nice," he said, pointing to my small collection of rescued plants. "The orchid especially. That's not easy to keep alive."

I moved forward protectively. "Don't touch them."

He raised his hands in surrender, backing away from the table. That's when I noticed he wasn't wearing his knee brace, and his limp was more pronounced than usual.

"Training too hard again?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "Poor little rich boy pushing himself for Daddy's approval?"

Something twinkled across his face—pain that had nothing to do with his knee. "Something like that," he muttered.

An awkward silence fell between us. I wanted to order him out, to reclaim my space, but curiosity kept me quiet. He looked... different.

Not just the missing brace or the casual clothes instead of the Crawford uniform. Something in his eyes seemed darker, more troubled than I'd seen before.

"Your face," he said finally. "What happened?"

I turned away. "Nothing."

"That's not nothing. Someone hit you."

"Leave it alone, Kade."

He stepped closer, and I could smell his expensive cologne—something woodsy and clean that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.

"Was it your mother's boyfriend? The one you mentioned at the diner?"

I whirled around. "I don't remember mentioning Samuel to you."

His expression shifted, guilt flashing across his face. "I told you I was worried. I asked around."

"You had no right," I hissed. "My life is none of your business."

"I can help," he said, his voice dropping. "I have resources—"

"I don't want your resources," I snapped. "I don't want your charity or your pity or your guilt money. Why can't you understand that?"

"It's not about charity," he insisted. "It's about doing what's right."

I laughed, a harsh sound in the quiet greenhouse. "A Kingston talking about what's right? That's rich. Your family destroys everything they touch."

He flinched like I'd slapped him. "I'm not my family."

"Then why are you here? Following me, inserting yourself into my life? What do you want from me?"

The question hung between us. In the filtered sunlight coming through the dirty glass panels, his green eyes looked almost vulnerable.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

Something about his honesty caught me off guard. I'd expected arrogance or deflection. Not this raw uncertainty.

I moved past him to check on my plants, needing something to do with my hands. The small jade plant needed water. I reached for the watering can I kept on the lower shelf.

"The orchid's your favorite," he observed, watching me work.

I paused. "How would you know that?"

"You touched it differently. More carefully." His observation was uncomfortably accurate.

The orchid had been half-dead when I found it, tossed in a dumpster outside the new botany lab, probably a failed student experiment. It had taken months of care to coax it back to life.

"I like fixing broken things," I said finally.

"Is that what I am?" he asked. "Something broken you want to fix?"

I looked at him sharply. "You're not broken. You're privileged. There's a difference."

"You have no idea who I am," he said, a hint of his usual arrogance returning. "What my life is really like."

"Poor little rich boy," I mocked. "So hard having everything handed to you. Private schools, expensive clothes, a guaranteed future. How do you survive the hardship?"

His face hardened. "You think having money solves everything? You think because my last name is Kingston, my life is perfect?"

"I think your problems and mine are in completely different universes," I countered. "I'm working three jobs to keep my brother alive. What's your biggest worry? That your million-dollar soccer career might get delayed?"

He stepped closer, his height forcing me to look up to maintain eye contact. "My biggest worry is becoming my father," he said, his voice low and intense. "Or worse, my brothers."

The mention of his brothers sent ice through my veins. Kolt Kingston's face flashed in my memory….that same arrogant smile, those same green eyes, but colder. More calculating.

I stepped back, needing distance. "Get out," I hissed. "This is mine. The one place in this whole damn school that isn't yours."

Instead of leaving, Kade settled onto the broken bench, wincing as he stretched his injured leg. "What if we shared it?" he asked, his voice lacking its usual arrogance.

"Share?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Kingstons don't share. They take."

"I'm not..." he started, then shook his head. "Fine. Think what you want about me. But this place is big enough for both of us."

"Why would you even want to be here? It's dirty and forgotten. There's nothing valuable."

"That's exactly why," he said quietly. "No one looking for Kingston money or connections or favors comes to a place like this."

Despite myself, I understood. Wasn't that why I came here? To escape expectations, even if just for a little while?

I turned back to my plants, buying time to think. The peace I'd sought was ruined now. But the thought of giving up my sanctuary made my chest tighten with loss.

"If…and that's a big if…we shared this space," I said slowly, "there would be rules."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"No talking about money. No asking about my personal life. No trying to 'help' me or Chase." I counted the rules off on my fingers. "And if I come in and you're already here, you leave."

"That hardly seems fair," he protested.

"Life isn't fair. Something you'd know if you ever lived in the real world."

He considered this, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But I have a condition too."

"Of course you do," I muttered.

"You stop pretending you know everything about me just because of my last name." His eyes met mine with unexpected intensity. "Judge me for who I am, not who my family is."

The irony wasn't lost on me. How many times had I wished for the same thing? To be seen as Chelsea, not Diana Lynch's daughter from the wrong side of town?

"Fine," I gave in. "But the minute you break my rules, this arrangement is over."

He held out his hand to shake on it.

I hesitated, then slipped my smaller hand into his. His palm was warm, callused in places from soccer training. Not as soft as I'd expected for someone who'd never worked a real job.

"Deal," he said, holding my hand a moment longer than necessary.

As I pulled away, his eyes caught on the cut on my cheek again.

"Chelsea….” he started.

"Rule two," I reminded him sharply. "No asking about my personal life."

He pressed his lips together, clearly restraining himself from saying more. "Right."

An awkward silence fell between us. I busied myself with my plants while he sat on the bench, stretching his leg occasionally with small grimaces of pain.

"You're overcompensating," I said after watching him for a minute. "Putting too much weight on your good leg. It's messing up your gait."

He looked surprised. "You know about sports injuries?"

"I know about a lot of things." I set down my watering can. "My brother had physical therapy for months after his diagnosis. The muscles get weaker when you favor one side."

Kade considered this. "The team doctor said something similar."

"But you're not listening to him," I guessed.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Apparently I don't listen to anyone."

"At least you're self-aware about your flaws."

This time he actually laughed, a genuine sound that transformed his face. For a second, he looked younger, lighter—like the weight of the Kingston name had lifted from his shoulders.

I found myself almost smiling back before I caught myself.

This wasn't friendship. This was a temporary truce, nothing more. I couldn't afford to forget who he was, or what his family had done to mine.

"I should get to work," I said, moving toward the door. "My shift starts soon."

He nodded. "I'll leave first. Wouldn't want to risk your reputation by being seen with me."

The joke fell flat between us. We both knew it wasn't really a joke at all.

As he limped past me toward the door, he paused. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I meant what I said. I'm not my family, Chelsea. I'd like a chance to prove that."

Before I could respond, he was gone, the greenhouse door swinging closed behind him.

I stood in the sudden silence, my sanctuary feeling strangely empty without his presence. The orchid's delicate purple blooms caught my eye—something beautiful growing from what had been discarded and left for dead.

"Don't even think about it," I muttered to myself.

But as I finally left to start my shift, I couldn't help wondering if there might be more to Kade Kingston than I'd allowed myself to see.