Off Campus Series Novels & Stories

But this is where their story needed to end. Off Limits was never about perfection. It was about crossing lines, paying the price, and choosing love anyway. It was about two people who weren’t supposed to want each other—and did. Who weren’t supposed to heal each other—and did. Who weren’t supposed to become home—and somehow became exactly that. Callie and Grayson don’t need more chapters to prove their love. They fought for it. They bled for it. They claimed it in the light, not the shadows. Letting them live quietly, fiercely, and fully after the final page is the greatest mercy I could give them.

But his attention was heavier—I felt it tightening around my throat, making it difficult to breathe. “It—”I stopped and cleared my throat. “The relationship creates a kind of—" I stopped again. Xavier made a sound somewhere behind me. A satisfactory sound, like he had been waiting to witness this kind of moment for a long time. “I don’t know.” I finally said. “Hmmm. You're always spaced out during my classes, Miss Marsh.” He said, his voice returning to its original coldness. “See me in my office after this class.” Then he walked back to the podium.

The next time I saw Chase Reed, it was at a little guesthouse in the Rockies. I'd just finished feeding my son breakfast and was wiping his mouth when Chase came out from the kitchen carrying a tray. Our eyes met. I saw his pupils dilate in shock. Three years had passed. His skin was weathered and reddened from the sun, his face covered in stubble, with new lines etched around his eyes from the harsh elements. Then his gaze landed on my son. He froze mid-step, his eyes going wide with disbelief before flooding with joy. He hurried over, his eyes locked on my little boy. "Sweetheart... can you say 'Daddy'?" I lowered my head, turned sideways, and pulled my son protectively into my arms

The lanyard part was always where Patterson lost it completely. Patterson lost it completely. I laughed. Real laugh, the kind that came out before I decided to let it, and I let it because this was Marcus and this was a corner booth and this was one of the few places on this campus where I did not have to manage how I took up space. I did not perform for Jaxon. I did not redirect anything. I just existed in the booth the way I existed with Marcus, which was without the particular overhead cost of being the scholarship receiver at Crestfield University. I was just a person in a bar with people I liked.

“We didn’t get expelled in our first week.” “High bar,” I said. He grinned. “Right? Which means we’ve earned this.” I glanced over. “Earned what?” “A party.” He finally looked up. “Off campus. Nothing fancy. Just people blowing off steam before midterms sneak up and ruin our lives.” He shrugged. “Older students are hosting. Mostly scholarship kids. You don’t have to go- but if you want to meet people without a professor and trusties staring through your soul, tonight’s the night.”

“Dad set up the guest room last night. He’ll be working from home for a bit. Something about… finishing some big security project.” Security. Yeah. That made sense. He had the vibe of someone who could break your door down and fix your Wi-Fi at the same time. “How long have you been awake?” Nicolas asked, and the question was so simple, so normal, yet it wrapped around me weirdly intimate. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Since seven.” He nodded like that meant something to him. Daniel clapped his hands, destroying the moment. “Right. I’m going to shower. Nobody talk about anything interesting until I get back.”

The whole city's respectable families would be in attendance; if they saw a horror-show themed ceremony, they would mock me without mercy. I had to stop it, but Yves's friend, Nina Cullen, refused outright and sneered at me. I called Yves. His voice on the other end was dismissive. "Stop making a scene. You're being paranoid." My expression hardened; I raised my voice. "I'm not making a scene. This isn't a wedding set; this is something else entirely—" He cut me off and hung up. I stood there, stunned. Was this the patient, emotionally stable man I thought I knew?

Did you trace where the money from that investment account went? "Westfield Capital is a shell company. Once the money went in, it was split and transferred to dozens of overseas accounts." The officer closed the file. "Winona, even though we suspect Felix, all the documentary evidence we have right now is against you," the officer said. "Unless we can find solid evidence that your money was fraudulently transferred, the apartment won't legally belong to you. "You could even be charged with murder." The door opened, and a woman in a professional suit walked in.

“You’re benching him?” “Temporarily. Until this dies down.” When the call ended, Liam just sat there. The silence of the office pressed against his ribs until it hurt to breathe. He found Noah later that night, still on the training field. The floodlights cast long shadows, catching in his hair, his jaw, the faint sweat glinting on his skin. He was kicking ball after ball into the net, each one harder than the last. “You’re off the lineup for Saturday,” Liam said finally.

It was windy on the terrace of the convention center. Towering over me, Patrick lit a cigarette. “How have you been lately?” I leaned against the railing, my tone flat as if I was talking about the weather. “Pretty swell. Brimble Network offered me triple what I had been paid before, and I got my own office. They even throw in Christmas bonuses. It’s a massive upgrade from getting a cleaning lady’s pay at Suede Corporation.” Patrick turned pale. He let out a wry smile, his fingers shaking as he held a cigarette.