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First Day At School
Bryson's POV
I should have stayed home. The thought hits me as I stand in front of Blackridge University's main gate, staring at buildings that look like they belong in some fancy movie about rich people's problems. Everything here screams money. The stone walls are so clean they practically shine, and the grass is cut so perfectly it looks fake. Even the trees look expensive. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Another text from Mom. "Have a great first day, honey! Remember to smile and talk to people. Maybe join a club or something fun!" I shove the phone back without answering. Mom means well, but she doesn't get it. She's so happy about marrying Richard Hayes that everything will be perfect now. She keeps talking about how this is our chance for a better life, how I'll love Blackridge, how I'll make amazing friends. What she doesn't understand is that I don't belong here. I look down at my jeans. They're clean and they fit okay, but they're from the thrift store back home. The kind of place where everything smells like old fabric softener and costs five dollars. Around me, other students walk by in clothes that probably cost more than Mom makes in a week. Designer bags, perfect shoes, watches that catch the sunlight. I feel like a fraud. "You can do this," I mutter to myself. "Just find your classes and survive the day." The campus map in my hands is already getting wrinkled from my sweaty palms. I've been lost twice already, and I'm starting to panic. Economics class starts in ten minutes, and I still have no idea where Hamilton Hall is supposed to be. A group of girls walks past me, their designer heels clicking on the stone path. They're laughing about something, and I catch bits of their conversation. "Did you see what Jessica wore to the party last weekend? So embarrassing." "I know, right? Like, where did she even get that dress?" They glance at me as they pass, and I see their eyes take in my clothes. One of them whispers something to her friend, and they both giggle. My face gets hot. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I check my phone for the time. Seven minutes now. I need to move. The coffee shop on the corner looks busy, with a line of students waiting for their morning fix. I should skip it, but I barely slept last night and I need the caffeine if I'm going to survive my first day. Plus, maybe if I'm holding a coffee cup, I'll look more like I belong here. The line moves fast, and soon I'm walking away with a large coffee that's way too hot and costs way too much. But at least it smells good, and the warmth feels nice in my hands. "Hamilton Hall, Hamilton Hall," I repeat to myself, checking the map again while walking. It should be around this corner somewhere. My phone buzzes again. Another text from Mom. "Don't forget what we talked about! This is a fresh start for both of us. I love you so much!" I smile a little despite everything. Mom really is happy, happier than I've seen her in years. After Dad died, she worked herself to death just to keep us going. She deserves this. She deserves Richard and his fancy house and not having to worry about money anymore. Even if it means I have to suffer through this place. I'm reading her text and trying to walk at the same time when I realize I'm going too fast. There's a corner coming up, and I should probably slow down, but I'm already late and— CRASH. The collision happens so fast I don't even see it coming. One second I'm rushing around the corner, the next I'm slamming into something solid and warm. My coffee cup flies out of my hands like it has wings, and hot coffee goes everywhere. I mean everywhere. It splashes across the stone floor, it hits the walls, and worst of all, it soaks both me and whoever I just crashed into. "Shit!" I gasp, looking down at my now coffee-stained shirt. Then I look up. Oh no. Oh no no no. The guy standing in front of me, dripping with my coffee, is the most gorgeous person I've ever seen in real life. He's tall, maybe six feet, with broad shoulders that fill out his expensive-looking shirt perfectly. His hair is this perfect brown color that looks like he just rolled out of bed but in a good way, all messy and soft-looking. And his eyes... His eyes are hazel, this amazing mix of green and brown that would be beautiful if they weren't currently looking at me like I'm something disgusting he stepped in. "I'm so sorry," I stammer, reaching toward him like I can somehow fix this mess. "I didn't see you coming, I was looking at my phone and—" "Are you kidding me right now?" His voice is deep and smooth, the kind of voice that probably makes girls melt. But there's nothing attractive about the way he's looking at me. His expression shifts from shock to something worse. Disgust. His eyes move down, taking in my thrift store jeans, my old sneakers, my coffee-stained shirt that probably cost ten dollars new. I watch his face change as he puts the pieces together. Rich boy meets scholarship kid. Popular guy meets nobody. I feel my face burning with embarrassment. Around us, other students have stopped walking. They're staring, whispering to each other. Some of them have their phones out. Great. My first day at Blackridge and I'm already the entertainment. "Look, I'm really sorry," I try again. "Maybe I can pay for dry cleaning or—" "Pay for it?" He laughs, but it's not a nice sound. "With what?" The hallway has gone completely quiet now. Everyone's watching, waiting to see what happens next. I can feel their eyes on me, judging my clothes, my face, everything about me that screams 'doesn't belong here.' This is my worst nightmare come true. The gorgeous guy looks me up and down again, and I see something cold settle in his expression. His mouth curves into a smile that makes my stomach drop to my shoes. It's not a friendly smile. It's the kind of smile that means trouble. "Interesting," he says, his voice carrying in the quiet hallway. "Very interesting." I don't know what he means by that, but I know it's not good. Everything about his tone, his expression, the way he's looking at me like I'm some kind of bug he's about to squash... My day just went from bad to catastrophic. And something tells me this gorgeous stranger is about to make it infinitely worse.Home sweet homeJulian POVYears have passed since the hospital room where we first held our daughters. The twins are five going to six now. Maya and Sophie. Loud and curious and completely impossible to keep still for more than thirty seconds.Maya is fearless. Climbs everything. Questions everything. Challenges me on rules with logic I can't always argue against.Sophie is quieter but equally stubborn. She loves books and drawing. Gets lost in her own world for hours until something—usually Maya—pulls her back to reality.Bryson struggles with lingering pain on bad days. His leg aches when weather changes. Mornings require careful stretching before he can move normally.But he walks easily now. Runs when the girls demand races. Carries both of them on his shoulders despite my protests that they're getting too big for that.I'm away often for games. The team travels more than I'd like. But I always come back. is Always make it home for bedtime stories and weekend breakfasts.Our apa
Something WholeBryson POVI finished my last day as an intern on a Friday afternoon.Walk out of the building with a box of personal items and a strange mixture of satisfaction and disbelief sitting in my chest.Monday, I return as a full-time staff member. The title feels strange in my mouth when people ask what I do now."I work in business development."The words sound like they belong to someone else. Someone older and more put-together.But apparently, they belong to me now.The work itself isn't drastically different. Same desk. Same computer. Same projects I've been managing for months.What changes is how people treat me. Younger workers look to me for answers now. Ask for my opinion during meetings. Request guidance on presentations and client calls.I mentor quietly. Share what I've learned. Take phone calls with steady hands even when imposter syndrome whispers that I have no idea what I'm doing.At night I tell Julian about my day while icing my leg, still necessary after
Building Something RealJulian POVI officially move into Bryson's apartment with one duffel bag and too many feelings I don't know how to name.The space is small. Nothing like the mansion with its sprawling rooms and cold elegance.But it feels real in ways the mansion never did.That first night I barely slept. I lie on the couch staring at the ceiling, listening to Bryson breathe from the bedroom. Every sound makes me tense, is he in pain? Does he need something? Should I check on him?I'm afraid that if I close my eyes too long, this fragile peace between us might disappear. That I'll wake up and find myself back in the mansion with Richard's ultimatums and Helen's rehearsed affection.Morning comes slowly. I hear Bryson moving in his room and I'm on my feet immediately."You okay?" I ask through the door."Yeah. Just getting up."I help him to the bathroom, then to the couch. Begin learning his morning routine through careful observation.I learn how much pain Bryson hides behin
Moving ForwardBryson POVWeeks pass in a blur of medication schedules and physical therapy appointments.Recovery is slow. Brutally slow. Every small improvement feels earned through gritted teeth and determination I didn't know I still possessed.The pain is constant. Some days it's a dull throb I can almost ignore. Other days it's sharp and immediate, stealing my breath when I move wrong.Therapy exhausts me in ways hockey never did. The exercises seem simple, lifting my leg, bending my knee, putting weight on my foot. But each movement requires focus and effort that leaves me drained.Julian stays with me through all of it."You're doing great," he says one afternoon after a particularly brutal session. "Better than yesterday.""Doesn't feel like it.""Trust me. You are."I hate how much I need him. Hate the vulnerability that comes with depending on someone who broke me before. Yet every time Julian smiles, genuine and warm, or quietly reassures me during a difficult moment, I f
Picking Sides Julian POVBryson is finally discharged from the hospital on a gray afternoon when rain threatens to fall but doesn't.He moves slowly, each step taken with caution and pain. The crutches make him clumsy. His face tightens with discomfort every time his weight shifts wrong.The doctor gives lengthy instructions about rest, medication schedules, and physical therapy appointments. He emphasizes that Bryson needs weeks of proper care and constant supervision to heal correctly."You'll need someone with you," the doctor says firmly. "At least for the first two weeks. No stairs. No standing for long periods. Someone needs to monitor you for complications."Bryson's mother immediately offers. "You can stay with us. We have plenty of space and I can…""No." Bryson's voice is quiet but absolute. "I just want to go home. To my apartment.""But honey, the apartment has stairs, and you'll be alone most of the day when I'm at work.""I'll manage."I step forward before I can think
Cracks and openingsBryson POVI spend the days watching Julian from the hospital bed.He's always present. Always helping. He doesn't push for more than I'm willing to give.The steadiness of it unsettles me more than anything else could. I keep waiting for him to slip back into old patterns. To choose his father's approval over me. To prioritize hockey or reputation or anything else.But he doesn't.Julian adjusts blankets when they shift during the night. Tracks my medication times better than the nurses do. Notices every wince of pain before I ever speak a word. Brings me water before I realize I'm thirsty. Small but constant things. Things that show he's paying attention in ways he never did before.I hate that my chest still reacts to him. Hate that my heart feels safer around him, like he's not the one who broke it. Because I remember, remember being broken.My body doesn't care about any of that. It just knows Julian is here now. Present and steady and refusing to leave.The







