LOGINParty Invitation
Bryson's POVMy phone has been buzzing nonstop for three days.
Every time I look at it, there's another text from Mom. Each one more excited than the last, full of heart emojis and exclamation points that make my chest tight with guilt.
"How are your classes going? Have you made any friends yet?"
"Remember what we talked about - this is your chance to really belong somewhere!"
"Richard says the campus has amazing clubs and activities. You should try something new!"
I stare at the latest message while sitting on my dorm room bed, trying to figure out how to respond. How do I tell her that her new husband's son's friends have made me their personal entertainment? How do I explain that I can't walk across campus without hearing whispers about the dining hall incident?
I can't. She's too happy.
Mom deserves this happiness after everything she's been through. After Dad died, she worked two jobs just to keep us afloat. She deserves Richard and his fancy house and not having to worry about money anymore. She deserves to believe that everything is perfect, that her son is thriving at this expensive school she never could have afforded on her own.
Even if it's a lie.
"Everything's great, Mom. Still settling in but it's good."
I hit send before I can change my mind.
The truth is, things have gotten worse since the dining hall. I found out the gorgeous asshole's name is Julian Hayes, and apparently, he runs this entire school. Everywhere I go, I hear his name. Girls talking about how hot he is, guys talking about hockey stats and parties at his place, professors mentioning his family's donations to the university.
He's like campus royalty, and I'm the peasant who dared to spill coffee on the prince.
The worst part is that I can't stop thinking about him. Not in a good way - well, not entirely in a good way. Every time I see him across the quad with his perfect hair and that confident smile, my blood boils. But underneath the anger is something else, something I don't want to think about.
He's gorgeous. Even when he's being a complete bastard, even when he's humiliating me in front of half the school, he's still the most attractive guy I've ever seen.
Which makes me hate him even more.
My phone buzzes again. Another text from Mom.
"Oh! Richard mentioned that his family is really into hockey. Maybe you should try out for the team! Wouldn't that be amazing?"
I actually laugh out loud. The sound echoes in my empty dorm room, bitter and sharp.
Hockey. Right. Because what I really need is to embarrass myself even more, this time on ice in front of an entire arena.
But then I keep reading.
"I know it sounds scary, but you're so athletic! Remember how good you were at soccer in high school? Richard says the Hayes family has been involved with Blackridge hockey for generations. It would be such a wonderful way to fit in!"
The Hayes family. I wonder if they're related to that Julian Hayes guy who's been making my life hell. Probably not - Hayes is a common enough name, and there are lots of rich families at this school.
The idea is so ridiculous I almost text her back to explain how impossible it is. But then I think about how excited she sounded when she called last night, how she kept talking about family traditions and bringing our families together.
She wants this so badly.
"I'll think about it," I text back.
It's not a lie. I am thinking about it. I'm thinking about how completely insane it would be to step onto ice I've never skated on in my life, wearing gear I can't afford, just to get demolished by Julian Hayes in front of the entire team.
But I'm also thinking about Mom's voice when she talks about our "new family." I'm thinking about how hard she's trying to make this work, how much she wants me to be happy here.
I love her enough to do almost anything for her happiness.
Even humiliate myself further.
The week crawls by like torture. Julian's friends have turned harassing me into some kind of hobby. Nothing obvious enough to report - they're too smart for that. Just constant little things. Bumping into me in the hallways. Making comments loud enough for me to hear. Laughing when I walk by.
"There goes coffee boy," I hear Tyler say as I pass their table in the library.
"Think he's learned to watch where he's walking yet?" Marcus adds.
I keep my head down and keep walking, but my hands clench into fists at my sides.
Every time I see Julian across campus, that perfect smile on his face like he owns the world, I want to punch something. But I also can't stop staring. He moves like he knows everyone's watching him, confident and easy, like gravity works differently for him than it does for the rest of us.
It's infuriating.
It's also kind of mesmerizing, which makes me hate myself almost as much as I hate him.
By Thursday, I'm ready to transfer schools. I'm actually looking up application deadlines for other colleges when my roommate, Danny, bursts through the door.
"Dude, you have to come to this party tomorrow night," he says, dropping his backpack and flopping onto his bed. "Everyone's talking about it. It's going to be epic."
"What party?"
"The Morrison party. Jake Morrison's family has this huge house off campus, and apparently, they're throwing some massive thing. The whole hockey team's going to be there, plus like half the school."
My stomach drops. The hockey team means Julian.
"I'm good," I say, turning back to my laptop. "Parties aren't really my thing."
"Come on, man. You've been hiding in this room all week. When's the last time you actually had fun?"
I can't remember, honestly. But that doesn't mean I want to go somewhere I'll be surrounded by people who think I'm a joke.
"I said I'm good."
But Danny won't let it go. He spends the next hour trying to convince me, listing all the reasons why I should go. Free alcohol, hot girls, good music, chance to "expand my social circle."
What he doesn't understand is that my social circle here is basically him and the girl in my economics class who sometimes lets me borrow a pen.
Friday arrives with more buzzing from my phone. Mom's texts have evolved into full paragraphs about hockey tryouts and family bonding and how proud she is of me for "putting myself out there."
I haven't put myself out there. I've been hiding like a coward.
Maybe that's part of the problem.
"You're coming tonight," Danny announces when he gets back from his afternoon classes. "I already told people you'd be there."
"You what?"
"Look, I know you're nervous about fitting in, but you can't hide forever. These people aren't as bad as you think they are."
If only he knew.
But as the afternoon wears on, something changes in my head. Maybe it's all of Mom's texts about being brave and trying new things. Maybe it's the memory of Julian's cold smile in the dining hall. Maybe I'm just tired of feeling like a victim.
Whatever it is, by the time Danny starts getting ready, I find myself digging through my closet for something that doesn't look completely pathetic.
"Wait, are you actually coming?" Danny asks, pausing with his shirt halfway over his head.
"Maybe," I say, pulling out the one decent shirt I own. It's nothing special, just a dark blue button-down that Mom bought me for high school graduation, but it's clean and it fits okay.
"Dude, that's awesome! You're going to have a great time, I promise."
I'm not sure about that. But I'm sure about one thing - I'm tired of everyone at this school thinking I'm some fragile charity case who can be scared away by a few mean comments.
I'm tired of hiding.
If Julian Hayes and his friends want to see me as weak, fine. But I'm not going to make it easy for them by disappearing.
"Yeah," I say, looking at myself in the mirror. "Let's go to this party."
Danny grins and claps me on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! Trust me, this is going to be epic."
I'm not sure epic is the word I'd use.
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







