The Game Changer - ch. 25 (Patreon)

And much like one of my previous posts had been (timing-wise) for the west coasters, this one... is not.

tw: discussion of parental death (no one we like, though)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rose had done so much work on herself. She’d done so much in her life to avoid this moment.

Somehow, though, she felt like she was a teenager again.

Standing in this office, after having just been outed to the Board. Well, to most of them.

And, just like it had happened when she’d been a teenager, the consequences were looming. No one could send her back to Circle of Mercy; that was just about the only measure of comfort she had in this moment.

No one could do that to her, again.

But they could take control from her, the control she’d had over revealing her sexuality in her own time, at her own pace. When she was officially divorced. Before it could spill out into anything messier.

Now it was messy.

Now, her job was on the line, and so was Abbie’s.

Now… now everyone knew.

And – and it hadn’t been a secret. She was a lesbian, and she was out where it mattered. To herself, to Abbie, to Nathan. She’d even, for that short period of time, been on a dating app.

But that had been her choice. It was never her choice to have her life ricocheting through Elliston.

Maybe it wasn’t yet, but it would be. The looks on the faces of everyone at that table in that meeting had read very clearly that they’d had no clue about her, and certainly not about her and Abbie. But there were faculty members and alumni on the Board.

PTA parents and alumni parents who were on the Board had very little overlap when it came to functionality; parents on the PTA weren’t involved on the long-term, high-level decisions, and were moored down in the day-to-day comings and goings.

But they all knew one another, and this gossip was going to spread like wildfire.

Hell, there were two student representatives with the Board of Trustees! Not that they had any voting power, but Rose was sure as anything that this was about to burn through the student body, too.

Even though she was far removed from being a student, that had been her worst nightmare when she’d attended this school, and – and she hadn’t realized how deeply that still went.

Wasn’t that funny? How scars could run so deep, you could forget they even existed?

“Abbie. You should go,” she managed to push the words out, holding both of her arms rigidly down at her sides, standing stiff as a board, or else she was worried she’d shatter. “You, following me in here…”

She trailed off, tightly closing her eyes.

Yet another of the reasons it was so much better – easier – to have kept them secret for now. Because before, when she and Abbie were seen together in the halls or slipped into one another’s offices, it didn’t mean anything to anyone.

Now… now, it would.

“Uh. Well, I would go. Except, you’re scaring me, if I’m being honest.” Abbie’s voice came from behind her.

It was only in hearing Abbie speak that Rose seemed to come back to herself, was present back in her own body. She barely remembered walking from the conference room back to her office; she’d done so on autopilot. Because she refused to show an ounce of emotion to anyone in that room, but especially not Peter or Jeffrey.

She only knew Abbie had followed her because she’d felt her presence at her heels. She’d felt Abbie hovering a step behind her all the way back here.

In a way, she loved it. And in another, she couldn’t – she couldn’t.

“I’m scaring you?” A dry, humorless laugh scraped out of her throat. “After what just happened in that meeting…” she trailed off, the rage and anxiety bubbling up inside of her, making her hands shake despite how tense she was.

She didn’t want to take it out on Abbie. She’d never wanted to take this out on Abbie, all of her hangups and her stresses regarding her sexuality. And she’d spent years doing it anyway, hadn’t she?

Rose dropped her head slightly, reaching up to rub intently at her temples with her fingertips.

“Yes, you,” Abbie gently pressed, and Rose could feel her walk slowly closer, only stopping when she was right at Rose’s back. “Because you seem scarily calm. Only, I know you’re not calm. Therefore, I’m concerned.”

She felt Abbie’s hands reach out and land on her shoulders. And even though the touch was light and warm and should have been comforting, it felt like it kickstarted something inside of Rose. Something a little wild, a little out of control. Like she was truly coming back to herself, and…

Rose looked around the office, her heart starting to race, and she started to feel a little sweaty, and as soon as the realization of the last hour and everything it meant, hit her, the words clawed out of her throat –

“I need to get out of here.”

This was her office, now. She and Abbie had quite literally destroyed so much of what had made it her father’s, and she reveled in that every day. That area over near the window no longer had the same furniture it did over a decade ago, the night she’d begged him not to punish her because she was gay.

It all seemed to come really full circle right now, didn’t it?

If she believed in an afterlife, she’d believe that her father was having the best day ever in hell.

“Keys,” the single expression signaled her intent and her desire and… and she didn’t know what else. She just knew she had to listen to the fervent demand inside of her to go.

With that, she whirled around, intent on going to her desk. But Abbie stepped in front of her, the most beautiful road block that had ever existed.

“Let me bring you?” Abbie asked, eyes searching Rose’s.

And – and she wished, desperately, she could have the afternoon she’d imagined.

She’d thought that after the meeting, she could have a little bit of time with Abbie, be it here or at her house or going out to dinner, while Nathan had Cassie for a little while. She’d especially thought about it when Abbie had come into the conference room, her golden hair wet from the rain, and her shirt clinging to her, and…

And the idea of how much she wanted Abbie existing in that room only minutes before the ground felt like it had shattered under her was awful.

She refused to be ashamed of those thoughts. She refused to be shamed by her desire for Abbie, by these feelings she had for her. She refused.

She wasn’t a teenager, anymore. She couldn’t be shamed like that.

But she could be fired! And outed!

She slowly shook her head, able to admit that perhaps she shouldn’t be driving right now. “Bring me… where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” Abbie’s response was immediate. “No explanations needed. You let me drive, and I can drop you off at home, and either come in with you or go. I can bring you to a bar? I can bring you to spit on your father’s grave? I’ll bring you wherever you want to go, and I can sit in the car or be with you; whatever you want.”

The thing was, Rose wasn’t quite sure she deserved Abbie.

Rose wasn’t sure she deserved Abbie or, frankly, Nathan. People who were so good inside. People who didn’t lash out when the world felt like it was falling apart, people who wanted to show up for her and support her, even when she hadn’t necessarily always been her best self to them.

And she didn’t normally have these thoughts, but she was right now, and –

“Yes. Let’s go. I don’t know where. I just – need you to bring me somewhere. Because I don’t want to unleash on you, but I’m really worried it’s about to all come out.”

***

She didn’t know where she’d thought Abbie would bring her. She’d expressed again in the car that she didn’t know. That she’d just needed to be out of Elliston, and that she didn’t want to go home, yet.

Home, where she’d need to be calm and cool and collected for Cassie.

And she was not feeling calm, cool, or collected. Not even close.

She followed Abbie into the indoor soccer arena that was twenty minutes away from her house, after having changed into her cleats and some of her coaching clothes that Abbie had made sure they’d taken from her office.

Rose was familiar with it, given that it was the same place they’d played indoor soccer over the winter season in high school. But she hadn’t been here in a long time.

“I know Paisley, who owns this place, now,” Abbie explained, as they walked farther onto the turf. “I’d come here to practice sometimes when it was the off-season and I was visiting home. When you were getting your stuff in the office, I texted her to check – the rec league that uses this space won’t be here until six, so we have almost forty-five minutes.”

Abbie jogged over to the wall with the long, tiered shelves, lined with soccer balls, and she started tossing them toward Rose.

She watched the influx of over twenty balls thrown her way with unerring aim, all of them landing… not in a perfect line, because Abbie wasn’t superhuman. But pretty damn close.

When she looked back up, Abbie was making her way toward the goal, taking position.

“Isn’t trying to score on you a game? I’m not much in the game mood.”

She knew it was, because she’d seen how much Abbie would play it with the team this semester, and how much the girls fucking loved it. It hyped them up, having Abbie play with them one-on-one. Abbie never took it easy on them, but she also never acted as though it would be an impossible feat for them to score against her. She made them believe they could have a chance against a professional athlete, and it felt real.

Abbie’s belief was real to them. She’d pivoted from her career to coaching at Elliston, and she’d never treated the girls like they were anything other than her first choice. And it showed.

And it was… over.

Whatever progress they’d made, it was going to be all over.

All of these ridiculously fanciful thoughts Rose had started to have about a future were done. These stupid thoughts about coaching with Abbie for seasons to come. Thoughts about what it would be like for them to get to a state – or national, eventually – championship, not as players but as coaches, together.

Thoughts she hadn’t spoken aloud, because she knew the sane thing was to keep a leash on them.

“Rose,” Abbie said, pulling Rose out of her stewing thoughts again. “This isn’t the shootout game. This is me telling you to go for it, as hard as you can. Wind up, kick those balls as hard as you fucking can. Aim it at me.”

“But I’m not upset at you.”

“I know that,” Abbie accepted. “But I can tell that there is a storm inside of you right now, and I can take it. I’m not afraid of it. I’m not afraid of anything inside of you.”

A part of her wanted to roll her eyes at Abbie, to tell her she wasn’t one of the girls on the team. She didn’t need to be managed. But another part of her, the bigger part, just wanted to do exactly what Abbie said.

To use this as an outlet and unleash.

She picked one of the balls from the lineup, eyed it and the position it was in to the goal. Moved back and forth, felt the turf under her feet. And she kicked that ball as hard as she possibly fucking could, sailing it through the air.

“I hate Preston Cavendish,” the words escaped her, like a confession, even though it wasn’t a secret.

They just needed to get out.

She kicked another.

“I hate that there are all of these stupid little rules and bylaws that have no real purpose.”

She kicked another.

“I hate that this was just – just taken from me. I was supposed to be able to choose how I wanted to be able to do this. Come out. Slowly figure out how to change things.”

She kicked another.

“I hate my fucking father.”

She kicked another.

“I hate all of the men in my family line who’d come before him. Who made everything what it is.”

She kicked another.

“I hate that they’re doing this to you.”

She kicked another.

“Not only because you’re you, and you don’t deserve anything like this–” God, it fucking hurt. It really hurt to know that someone like Preston, who’d been so loyal to her father, would have a vendetta against her for being queer, and that it would bounce back on Abbie.

She kicked another ball.

“But because you coming back to Elliston brought you back to me, and…”

She trailed off, kicking one final ball as hard as she fucking could, and she couldn’t bring herself to find any more words. She hated a lot right now, and she just wanted to get it all out.

It wasn’t about scoring; she watched Abbie move for them, and it gave the competitive part of her a mild satisfaction that she couldn’t deny. But it wasn’t about winning, and she knew that Abbie knew that.

By the time she was done, her lungs were burning and her legs were sore and she felt so – so wrung out. So absolutely exhausted – physically, emotionally, mentally. She leaned forward slightly, bracing her hands on her thighs.

Abbie jogged over to her, and of course she still had all of the energy to do that.

“Can you bring me home?” She hated how small her voice sounded. How… weak. Even though it was only to Abbie, one of the only people on earth she trusted, she couldn’t help this instinctive reaction to detest showing that kind of vulnerability.

It was something she’d had to put a lot of conscientious work into throughout the last five years. Letting anyone in was never her strong suit, and she wasn’t convinced it ever would be.

But if she could ever really do it, really bare herself to anyone, she wanted it to be Abbie.

“Your wish, my command,” was all Abbie said in response.

***

Abbie drove them back to her house carefully, as the rain had started beating down against the car. It was comforting, in a way. The sound of the rain pounding against the car, the night pitch-black around them.

Rose stared out the window, watching some of the drops roll down the glass.

“It was raining the night my father died.” She hadn’t expected that to come out; she didn’t even know where it came from.

Well, from everything that this afternoon had dredged up inside of her, that was for certain.

She could see Abbie quickly glance at her, but only for a second, as she turned her focus back to the road.

“Car accident,” she continued, hearing her own lack of emotion. The monotony in her words.

But that was how it felt inside of her. She didn’t have any emotions about it; nothing sad or grieving.

“I don’t think we’ve talked about this,” Abbie said, softly. Just barely audible over the rain. “I knew it was unexpected, but…”

“I don’t usually see the point; it is what it is. They ended up contacting me to identify him. Which is kind of insane, when you think about it. It was the first time I’d even seen him in months. They’d tried to contact my mother before tracking me down, but by that time of night–” She snorted. “She’d have been way too fucked up to answer the door.”

Rose didn’t often think about that night. She hadn’t been devastated, but she had been… shaken. Her entire world had felt up ended.

She heaved a sigh, leaning her head heavily back against the seat. Continuing to stare out at the rain. “It’s not like it is in the movies; it’s not this big, dramatic thing. I went to the hospital. It was him. It wasn’t just the rain, for the record.”

She tracked a drop as it fell from the top of the window all the way to the bottom, out of view.

“He’d been at the club, and he’d had a few drinks before he’d made the wise decision to get in the car. At least he was the only person who’d been hurt.”

She remembered very clearly how confused the officer had been when that had been her first question. Did anyone else get hurt?

But she’d cared more about “anyone else.”

She inhaled sharply when she felt Abbie’s hand fall to her knee, squeezing softly. Warmly. Taking her out of her thoughts, at least a little bit.

“I asked Nathan for a divorce when I got home.”

And then she felt Abbie’s hand squeeze tighter, obviously in surprise.

Abbie obviously realized, gentling her touch. “Sorry. I… didn’t expect that part.”

She chuckled, darkly. “No one did.”

Not even herself.

She hadn’t seen it coming, not even on her way home from the hospital. It hadn’t been some long-term plan; she hadn’t married Nathan and thought: when my dad dies, it’s over. She hadn’t just been biding her time.

She’d really believed she was going to be married to Nathan, especially after having Cassie. Especially after Nathan – by Rose’s estimation – had fallen out of love with her. By the time they were simply best friends who co-parented and slept in the same bed, she thought that was what her life would be.

“Something inside of me snapped, seeing my dad like that. Not, obviously, the way something breaks inside of normal people when they see their dead dad. He’d loomed so intimidatingly large, my entire life. But he was just… a man. The man who’d been a literal villain in my life, and there he was. Gone. And he’d looked so small.”

She’d never forget that. Again, not because she’d loved him or because… of any reason most people, she imagined, felt when they were indelibly changed by the death of a parent.

She’d stood there in the hospital room that he’d been transported to and died in, for a long time. She was sure that most of the staff thought she was in mourning.

And when she’d gone home, Nathan had been so concerned, and she’d been able to see it on his face. That he saw something reflected back from her that was nerve-wracking.

Rose released a long breath. “I didn’t plan for the first words I said to him after I told him about my dad to be ‘we need to get a divorce’ but it was what happened.”

This was the only part of that night that made her emotional, in retrospect. Nothing had happened that night; Nathan had taken her comments with a grain of salt, to be totally fair.

But hurting him and changing the course of Cassie’s life – that made her emotional.

And sitting here, telling Abbie the raw, honest truth of her…

Well, that made her chest feel a little tighter.

Even though Abbie hated her own father, Rose couldn’t imagine Abbie would feel the same way she’d felt. She might not wail and sob when he died, but – but Abbie didn’t have the same demons she did. And showing them to her while knowing Abbie was such a better person was scary.

But today had shown Rose that even though her dad was dead, his legacy of being able to fuck with her life was still alive and well. And that… god, that really was doing a number on her.

“Thank you for telling me all of that. And I remember what you’d said to me, the night you told me about what happened when we were in high school, so I figure I’ll tell you now that I have literally zero judgment for you. And that I really just… love to know all of these parts of you.”

Rose’s heart fluttered, something warm pushing its way inside of her for the first time all evening. And it felt so welcome, she could have cried.

When they pulled into her driveway, Abbie parked but didn’t shut her car off.

“I’d really like to come in, at least until Nathan drops Cassie off, which I know should be soon. But if you don’t want–”

Rose swiftly cut her off. “Let’s be real; if I didn’t want you to be with me, I wouldn’t have let you drive me anywhere.”

Abbie’s answering smile was so bright, she swore it lit up the entire interior of the car. Which made some of the knots in Rose’s stomach slowly start to untangle, for the first time in hours.

And the truth was, Rose didn’t ever want anyone with her in her truly vulnerable moments. Even Nathan, who was the only person other than Abbie she could even have ever considered. But she’d always found her footing by pushing him to arm’s length and working through her own thoughts and feelings, before settling and letting him in.

They both made a run for the front door, not that it really mattered; their clothing was both completely soaked through by the time they reached it.

Soaked through, and Rose’s hands were shaking slightly from the cold night air as she finally unlocked the door. The warmth that hit them was such a relief, her eyes fluttered briefly closed as Abbie stepped in behind her and shut the door.

“You sit tight. I’ll run up and get a change of clothes, and we can just lay on the couch together for a little while?” Abbie’s eagerness in her offer, as she stripped out of her soaking wet jacket and hung it up, echoed through the air.

Rose stepped forward and flicked the light on in the front foyer, as she gave Abbie an exasperated look over her shoulder. “Abbie, I realize I’ve had a very bad reaction to the meeting, but I’m not an invalid. I can go get my own clothes. You know, from my own bedroom.”

“I am well aware of that, Rose, thank you.” Abbie stepped closer, close enough to be in Rose’s space, close enough that Rose could breathe her in. “But I’d like to be here for you.”

The parts inside of Rose that demanded she take care of herself, that she manage all of her own emotions, that she have control… they weren’t louder than how nice it felt to have Abbie wanting to be here for her.

“Okay. If you’re so insistent.”

“I am. And I’m stubborn,” Abbie tacked on.

“Not as stubborn as I am,” Rose countered.

“A mule isn’t as stubborn as you are,” were Abbie’s parting words, as she kicked off her shoes and quickly made a beeline for the stairs.

Rose lifted her eyebrows in silent acknowledgement, and decided she’d take that as a compliment.

She took her own shoes off, setting them neatly off to the side, before she made her way to the living room.

Within seconds, Abbie’s footsteps were parading back down the steps. So quickly, Rose was confident she was going to slip –

And she stumbled slightly, but managed to right herself at the bottom of the stairs.

“You know, you could have walked. I’m not about to expire down here.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you,” Abbie volleyed back.

Rose knew she was kidding, keeping things lighthearted, but… it also felt stupid good. Especially when paired with that little, imploring smile on Abbie’s face, as she approached Rose, placing the bundle of clothing in her arms on the coffee table.

The lights in the living room were still off, but they were bathed in the warm light from the foyer that spilled over. It was just the right amount.

She felt Abbie’s hands at the hem of her shirt, gently starting to lift.

Even as Rose rolled her eyes, she acquiesced, lifting her arms to help Abbie take her shirt off. And then she heard Abbie drop it, unceremoniously, to the floor with a wet splat. She shivered as she felt Abbie’s hands reach behind her, her fingertips dragging against her skin as she sought the hook to Rose’s bra.

And she let Abbie slide that down her arms, too, until she was standing in front of her, completely topless.

There was such a softness in Abbie’s eyes, it was… it was almost uncomfortable. Like Abbie was looking through Rose, and no one had ever looked at her that way before.

Abbie leaned in and placed her lips against Rose’s collarbone.

She shuddered, her eyes snapping closed, as one of her hands came up to grip tightly at Abbie’s shoulder. It wasn’t even sexual, it was just – it was just intimate. And that rocked through Rose, right to the core.

Abbie placed another kiss on her chest, lingering for a few beats, and Rose’s breathing grew slightly choppy.

She was both relieved and so very much not when Abbie drew back, and reached for the sweatshirt she’d brought down with her.

“I’ve got this,” Rose murmured, taking it and tugging it over her head.

She then took off her bottoms, flicking them with her foot into the small pile of clothing with her shirt and her bra, before tugging on the sweatpants Abbie had brought down.

“Your prerogative,” Abbie shot back, shrugging, before she quickly bent down and scooped up the clothes up from the floor. “I’m going to throw these in the washer; be right back.”

As if she was being timed, Abbie was indeed right back. It was so expedient, Rose would have laughed. But she didn’t feel like she had the energy to laugh. So expedient, Rose realized, and Abbie had also changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants she’d taken from Rose’s closet.

Much like when she’d stayed over after their night together, she liked it. A lot.

She maneuvered onto the sofa, the cushions wide and plush, leaving them enough room to lie down side-by-side. A close fit, but a surprisingly comfortable one. Snug enough that Rose felt the long, lithe line of Abbie’s body against her side, as she was laying on her back, but not so close that she didn’t have her own room to breathe.

“So… I didn’t want to comment on it at the time, because I wanted you to be able to work through everything you needed. It seemed like a really good catharsis,” Abbie commented, as she settled on her side, propping her head up on one of her hands. “But I do want you to know that – I’m not going anywhere. Even if I’m not at Elliston anymore, that doesn’t mean our relationship would end. I hope you know that.”

Everything inside of Rose relaxed, bit by bit, in a way she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding onto. “I… I didn’t not think that. But I also–” She huffed out an irate sigh. “I don’t know.”

And she didn’t.

It was all a jumble, and nothing today had gone the way she’d thought it would.

“Remember how I told you that the other shoe would drop?” She stared up at the ceiling rather than at Abbie’s face. “It dropped.”

Abbie hummed very quietly, but let quiet fall between them. Laying with her for several minutes, a warm, solid presence. Their breathing fell into a rhythm, and it, along with the way the rain beat on the windowpane, was so…

Rose had never simply existed with someone like this, not in her life.

“How are you feeling?” Abbie asked, eventually.

She reached out and placed her free hand gently on Rose’s stomach, her touch so warm and genuinely so comforting in a way Rose hadn’t anticipated. Which was stupid, maybe. Because Abbie’s very being comforted her.

Well, Abbie also drove her crazy and made Rose want and yearn and desire in ways she was pretty sure were singularly unique to her. But she also comforted Rose, at the same time that she could make her feel like she was losing her mind.

She shivered when she felt Abbie’s hand flex gently against her stomach, her long fingers settling on top of Rose like they belonged there.

“I don’t really know,” she admitted, which made her feel even worse about this entire situation. “I…” She trailed off, licking her lips. The words were like a lump in the back of her throat. “Sometimes, it can be difficult for me. To figure out exactly what it is that I’m feeling, especially when it’s really high, intense emotion.”

It made her feel so – ridiculous. How could someone not know their own feelings? Sure, she could identify them as “bad” but until the storm inside of her really settled, that was it.

There was a reason everything had been so tumultuous when it came to Abbie back in high school. Rose had known and understood her attraction to Abbie, and once she added on that Abbie was a lesbian, and that she had queer parents? It was terrifying and exciting and awful and… and this whole combination of emotions that she hadn’t wanted to pick through and identify.

What was the point? It wasn’t as though she could have done anything about it.

She’d worked on this a lot once Cassie was born, because the fear had eaten away at her. That she’d be cold or callous or detached from her child, the way her parents had been – on a good day – with her.

Sometimes, often way back in the past, she’d been that way toward Nathan. Only able to offer him certain parts of herself, even when it came to friendly affection and warmth. Feelings she did feel for him, but found it difficult to properly express.

“I think that makes a lot of sense,” Abbie’s voice was thoughtful and quiet and so understanding, it made the backs of her eyes prick with tears. “You spent a lot of your life needing to push down your real feelings; it makes sense that there’s some lingering… turmoil with that.”

Rose’s breath caught in her throat, unexpectedly, and she swallowed down the thick lump there. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Quiet fell between them again for several moments, before Abbie spoke again, “Can I ask you something?”

For a few seconds, Rose didn’t say anything, as she wondered how deeply she was willing to go. Because a big part of her just wanted to shut everything down.

She let out a long, low breath, turning her head on the throw pillow to look at Abbie. It was… ethereal, she fucking swore it was, the electric, intense look in her eyes. It seemed like it defied science, because they were laying with the lights so dimmed, but she knew she wasn’t imagining it.

“Yes. I might not answer. But you can ask.”

Because this, what she wanted so desperately to have with Abbie, couldn’t happen if Rose wasn’t willing to open that door. She wished she could promise every answer, but she couldn’t predict Abbie’s thoughts. She didn’t know what was going to come out of her mouth, but she could try, and she could hope it would be enough.

The way Abbie’s lips ticked ever so slightly up at the edge in the tiniest, sweetest of smiles made Rose feel as though Abbie understood.

“I know we’ve kind of talked about it, before. And I know that you want to change things. But Elliston has so many bad memories for you.” Abbie’s gaze searched hers, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Do you want to fight for it? Like deep down.”

Very gently, Abbie slid her hand up, resting on Rose’s chest between her breasts. Pressing down firmly, in a way that was surprisingly calming. In a way that made it easier for her to take a deep breath.

She let those words sink in and just sat with them for several moments.

“I do,” she answered, and she fucking hated it. “I wish I didn’t. It would make everything so much easier.”

She could find a different job; something related to her education degrees. Where she was working with curriculum and development more closely, which she’d ended up enjoying shockingly more than she’d ever expected.

Because she’d never really known what she’d wanted to do with her life. There was a path, as an Elliston, and she was on it. The only other thing she’d have ever wished she could do would have been to pursue soccer, but… but she’d known she couldn’t, so she never let herself even think about it as a possibility after college.

“I know it probably doesn’t make that much sense, considering the fact that you’re right; I do have bad memories there. But… it was also a relief to be able to be there, and not be with my parents.”

Rose hadn’t been upset in the least when the time had finally come for her to live at school instead of in the house she’d grown up in.

“I’m sure you can imagine it, but there wasn’t really any warmth in my parents’ house. It was so cold and impersonal there, it was almost inhospitable. Everything was for appearances. Even though I knew my Elliston room wasn’t really mine, especially after Tessa… it was still better than the possibility of being there.”

Even when living in the dorm had felt like a prison sentence her senior year, it hadn’t been because of the school itself; it had been because her father walked those halls.

“If I hadn’t been able to go back to Elliston after that summer, after being at Circle of Mercy, I… I have no idea what I would have done.”

She wasn’t sure she could have survived living with her parents. Having to see either one of them on any sort of consistent basis. At least, at school, she could keep her head down, and get by on seeing her father sporadically. Hardly ever having to see her mother.

Setting her jaw tightly, she shook her head. “Even though it wasn’t perfect, nowhere would have been perfect for me, at that point. And there were parts of it that I really liked. Being a proctor, talking to the younger girls on the floor. Making them feel comfortable, part of a community.”

She’d actually really loved that. Far more than she’d ever thought she would have; she’d only even expressed interest in being a proctor because she knew it had been expected of her. An Elliston not taking on that kind of leadership role?!

“I think Elliston is that place for a lot of our students,” she finished, her voice dropping to a whisper, as she turned to look directly at Abbie again. “A lot of our students, especially ones whose parents have high expectations and strict standards or tightly held beliefs or are just plain neglectful…”

She trailed off, thinking about the many students whose files she’d read through upon taking over this position last year fit that description. So many of their students had home lives the way she had. Parents who were barely present both physically and emotionally, parents who didn’t care about who their child was as their own person and only as an extension of themselves and the family name.

“Even if I didn’t do this job or even if I leave, those students are still going to be there. More are going to enroll there. And I just – I thought…” Fuck, the backs of her eyes burned, and she tightly closed them, trying to ward that off. “I thought if I did things slowly, if I played by the rules, I could make it so that Elliston was somewhere they felt really safe. Free to be whoever they wanted to be. That we didn’t expect them to turn out to be little machines, carbon copies from their parents.”

Abbie’s hand had slid to the curve of her waist when Rose had angled herself onto her side, and the warmth of her palm felt like it was burning – very pleasantly – against her skin. Almost like she’d be branded with it, and she didn’t hate that very idea.

“That’s really beautiful, Rose.”

“A beautiful idea, I suppose.” The words escaped her with a harsh laugh, because it was far closer to becoming a cry than anything laced with real humor. “Because it’s not reality, as today proved to us.”

Abbie’s soft lips pulled down into a frown, and she pushed herself up higher on her elbow to be able to stare Rose directly in the eyes. “It can still be reality.”

And there it was. Abbie’s optimism, in the face of the ruthlessness of the world, even when the world was knocking right on her door, warning her it was about to be kicked down.

Rose dropped flat onto her back again, lifting her hand and rubbing it over her eyes. God, they felt so gritty. “No, it can’t.”

She wasn’t even trying to argue with Abbie; she didn’t feel argumentative. She just felt… tired. Maybe tonight Abbie’s stubbornness surpassed her own.

Abbie gently squeezed her hip, and Rose could feel the encouragement simply in her very touch. She could literally feel that Abbie was becoming invigorated, that her mind was starting to turn over ideas, as though they had possibilities in front of them.

“Have you forgotten that you’re basically as good as fired?” She dropped her hand down to the cushion beneath her, locking eyes with Abbie as she arched her eyebrows up.

Immediately, she groaned, frustrated with herself.

“Sorry if that sounded harsh.”

She knew it had, because she felt Abbie’s hand still against her, and she was aware her words probably felt like a slap in the face. And she waited for Abbie to remove her hand, to take away her comforting touch in the aftermath.

Abbie didn’t, though. “It’s okay.”

Rose rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. But also a little at Abbie. “You can tell me if I hurt your feelings, you know. I realize I’m in somewhat of a fragile place right now, but it doesn’t give me free license to lash out at you.”

Which had been the entire point she’d tried to make earlier this afternoon, but of course Abbie had kept pushing to be with her. Of course, Abbie had taken it on to be there for Rose.

Abbie scoffed. “Rose, if you think that I’m too timid to tell you when you’ve hurt my feelings or upset me, you’re both forgetting the first several years of our relationship and implicitly telling me that you don’t actually know me all that well.”

“I meant that I don’t want you to try to tell me it’s okay because I’m very clearly having a moment over this.”

Abbie didn’t look away for a single second. “Well, I said it’s okay, because you’re just stating a fact; I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she agreed, her voice soft. She frowned, and for the first time all evening, the black cloud that was swirling around her cleared up just enough for her to really think about Abbie in all of this. And, jesus, she felt a gnawing sensation of guilt eating through everything else. “How are you doing with all of this?”

Abbie’s lips twisted to the side in a considering pout. “I’m… all right. Not great, honestly, but I’m more worried about you than me.”

“I don’t want you to be more worried about me than you,” she countered, pushing her fist so tightly into the couch, it strained her knuckles a little bit. But she was still so fucking mad about it all, especially on Abbie’s behalf. Abbie, who’d come in and done absolutely nothing wrong. More than doing nothing wrong, she’d done so much right! She’d taken their record and improved it ten-fold from last year. “The way this is going to play out, you’ll lost your job before I lose mine.”

And wasn’t that dismal reality even worse to think about?

Abbie was going to be pushed out of Elliston next month. Rose would, likely, stay until the end of the school year; it would be slightly more time-consuming to get her removed.

And… fuck, the idea of being there without Abbie sounded terrible to her. Even if it was just for a few months, before she lost her job, too.

“Maybe not,” Abbie stated, Rose could tell that she really even believed that.

That hopeful spirit made Rose want to roll her eyes, even as it endeared the hell out of her. As much as she couldn’t stand it, she also loved it. It was exactly what made Abbie so different from her.

“I can tell you don’t agree,” Abbie shot back, sliding her hand lower and slipping under Rose’s sweatshirt so she could scratch her nails lightly over her hip. Rose shivered, the sensation sweeping through her.

“Lemon, the entire board is going to be there for the end of semester meeting. They’re all going to vote. And no one is going to vote for Preston to walk. Even if they don’t like him, or think he’s pompous and smug…” She rolled her lips tightly, deciding to just lay it out for Abbie. “Every year, Elliston averages about nineteen million from personal contributions and grants. The Cavendish family is by far the largest single donor, at five million a year.”

Literally over a fourth of their individual donations, from a single individual. It was the farthest thing from insignificance.

Abbie’s eyes widened slightly. “Ah. That’s… hefty.”

Rose only hummed in affirmation, feeling her head start to pound at the logistics, even as she could see those wheels turning faster in Abbie’s.

And right now, tonight, she just – she couldn’t.

“I know where your mind is going. I know you’re thinking about your trust, maybe mine. I get that. But the reality is those both of our trusts are a finite resource.”

The Elliston name had a lot of respect in social circles, and she was very financially privileged. She knew that. But she also didn’t have live-lavishly-and-fuck-any-consequences kind of money, and she was pretty sure Abbie didn’t, either.

They didn’t have Thompson family wealth, or corporations where money was continuously pouring in from. Rose would be shocked if the money Abbie had inherited was structured differently than her own – as in, most of it was tied up in investments that they couldn’t easily drain, not without paying millions in taxes and penalties.

And even if they did do that and could scrape together liquid cash for a couple of years, their well would run dry. It wasn’t a real alternative plan to present to the Board to make them feel secure about Elliston’s financial future.

She knew because she would never vote for it.

“I just – there has to be something we’re not seeing yet,” Abbie insisted, with that can-do attitude.

What made it all the sweeter, was that Rose could hear how much she meant it. Abbie wasn’t offering her a platitude or trying to placate either of them.

“Abbie,” she breathed out. “Cassie is coming home soon, and I need to get my head together enough to act like we didn’t get kicked in the teeth this afternoon,” she stated, quietly. A little pleadingly. “I would really, really like to talk about anything else, and get this out of my mind before she and Nathan get here.”

She held Abbie’s eyes with her own, waiting to hear Abbie’s agreement.

Which she gave surprisingly easily. “Okay. Do you want to come to my family’s Thanksgiving?”

Well, that worked to stop Rose dead in her tracks. She blinked back at Abbie for far too long, feeling totally jarred. She knew she’d asked for a change of subject, but that was – well, certainly a change. “What?”

Amazing response, Rose.

Even as she inwardly razzed herself, she couldn’t help but stare at Abbie like she’d grown another head. “Thanksgiving?” She echoed. “Where did that even come from?”

“Thanksgiving,” Abbie repeated back, a teasing smile on her lips. “It’s a day in which we will not be giving thanks to murderous colonizers, but we will have it off of work and will eat a lot of food.”

“‘We’ being…” She trailed off, eyes narrowing slightly, her stomach flip-flopping at the insinuation.

“Me, my moms, Norah, her dad, my grandparents, various aunts, uncles, cousins and their children. I don’t really know the entire guestlist right now, because it all depends on their spouses and holiday plans, and really, the only one I talk to super often is Norah.”

Rose pushed herself up to mirror Abbie. “You know, you couldn’t have thrown me more for a loop if you tried,” she pointed out, rather than answer.

A laugh slipped from Abbie’s soft lips. “Yeah, I thought it would be a good nonsequittur. Admittedly, I didn’t think it was going to throw you this much.” She slowly tilted her head. “I mean, we’re together. It’s an upcoming holiday. As in, next week.”

“True.”

“I don’t know what you usually do for the day. But I do know it’s the first Thanksgiving that you and Nathan are separated, and it falls on one of his days with Cassie.”

… Rose hadn’t even thought about that.

She’d never had to think about that, and she and Nathan had figured everything out relatively seamlessly; they’d decided they’d work out what made sense when the holidays arrived.

If she thought hard enough, she thought she’d have probably done Thanksgiving with Nathan – which also generally meant his parents – in order to spend it with Cassie, to make it easier for her.

“It used to be at my grandparents’ house,” Abbie continued, keeping her voice low and coaxing and warm. “But my moms started hosting, and mostly took it over. But it’s going to be back at my grandparents’ this year, because they’re getting older, so it’s kind of easier for everyone to go to them.”

“So… basically the entire Parker family is convening at your grandparents’ – who I’ve never met – house.”

“I’m sure several people won’t make it,” Abbie supplied. “Remember, going to see other family.”

“Right.”

“You don’t have to answer right now; you can decide literally any time.”

“But… you’d like me to be there,” Rose stated, slowly. Trying it on.

Abbie wanted to spend a holiday together. Which made her buzz inside, in a way she’d never known. The idea of spending a holiday with Abbie’s literal entire family was petrifying; she was just getting used to seeing Caroline and Hannah. But the buzz was still there, even through that burst of nerves.

“Yes, Rose. I would like you to be there,” Abbie echoed, obviously amused.

“Because,” and her heart skipped a beat, far beyond her control, “We’re in a relationship.”

“Well, even if we weren’t, I like to think I’d invite you anyway,” Abbie pointed out, because she was that kind of person.

Rose narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, Rose, because we are in a relationship,” her voice was alight with laughter, and she reached out to gently slide a lock of Rose’s hair behind her ear.

Abbie’s lingering touch made her shiver, and she briefly closed her eyes.

Today had definitely been one for the books.

But… she and Abbie were in an official relationship, and Abbie had been the one to use the word first. Amid all of the terrible parts of today, there was something that shined so bright, nothing could dim it.

And even if Rose had spiraled out, she’d also been taken care of in a way she’d never even fathomed. She felt taken care of. She felt… loved.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

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