Chapter 78 Ready
Chapter 78 Ready
Sydneys Pov
Friday was here before I knew it…Not because I wasn't expecting it. I was. I'd been thinking about this session since Wednesday. Since the library. Since I felt that prickling on my neck and got Jades text and the way Zane said you don't have to carry it
I wasn't ready.
I don't think I'll ever be ready.
I walked into Study Room 4B at 2:52. Eight minutes early. Zane was already there as usual.
"You look tired " he said.
"Thanks."
"That wasn't an insult."
"I know." I dropped my bag. Sat down. Rubbed my eyes. "I didn't sleep well."
"Bad dreams?"
" everything."
He didn't push. Just opened his notebook. Picked up his pen. Waited.
That was his superpower. Waiting. Letting people come to him.
I wished I had that kind of patience.
I wished I had a lot of things I didn't have.
•••••
We did contract law for an hour.
Offer. Acceptance. Consideration. The same things I'd explained before. Zane took notes. Asked questions. Nodded.
His eyes kept looking at my face.
Not staring. Just... Checking.
Like he was waiting for me to crack.
I didn't crack.
I never crack.
That's what I told myself.
•••••
"How does your scholarship work?" he asked.
The question came out of nowhere.
I looked up from my textbook. "What?"
"Your scholarship. The one that depends on this program." He set his pen down. Leaned back. "How does it work?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I'm curious."
"About my finances?"
"About you."
"It's complicated " I said.
"Uncomplicate it."
"Law school scholarships aren't like undergrad. They're competitive. You have to keep a GPA do certain things avoid certain trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"Academic probation. Conduct violations. Missing many programs." I paused. "Tutoring athletes who're in trouble."
"So if I fail you fail."
"Something like that."
Zane was quiet. Processing.
That's a lot of pressure.
"It's fine."
"It's not fine." He leaned forward. Elbows on the table. "You're carrying my grades and your own. That's not nothing."
"I've carried worse."
"Like what?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Why did I say that?
Why do I always say much around him?
•••••
"You don't have to answer " he said.
"I know."
". You want to."
I looked down at my hands. The chipped nail polish. The calluses. The small scar on my knuckle.
"My mom got sick when I was in school " I said quietly. "Nothing serious.. She couldn't work. So I did."
"What did you do?"
"Everything. Two jobs. School. Applications. Scholarships." I swallowed. "I carried everything because if I didn't no one would."
Zane didn't say anything.
He just listened.
Somehow that was worse.
Better.
And everything.
•••••
"Is she okay now?" he asked.
"My mom? Yeah. She's fine. Works much. Worries much." I smiled. Small. Real. "She still treats me like I'm sixteen."
"That's what moms do."
"I guess."
I'd never told anyone about the jobs. About the applications. About the weight I'd been carrying.
I told Zane.
He just listened.
•••••
"Why law school?" he asked.
"Because it pays well."
"That's not why."
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep lying."
I picked up my pen. Twirled it. Set it down. "I want to help people. The ones who don't have anyone. The ones who are told they're not enough." I paused. "The ones like me."
"You're not a victim, Sydney."
"I know."
"Then stop acting like one."
"I'm not trying to be harsh " he said.
"I know."
"I'm trying to help."
"I know."
"Then let me."
I looked at him.
At the scar above his eyebrow. At the way his jaw tightened. At the hands that looked big but gentle.
"Why do you care?" I asked.
"About what?"
"About me. About my scholarship. About any of this."
He was quiet.
Then: "Because someone should."
Those three words landed somewhere soft.
Somewhere I'd been protecting.
"You don't even know me " I whispered.
"I know enough."
"You know what I've told you. That's not the thing."
"Then tell me more."
I shook my head. "You don't want to know more."
"Yes I do."
"No you don't."
"Sydney." He said my name like a promise. "You're not too much. You're not too complicated. You're not going to scare me."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm still here."
•••••
The clock said 4:45.
Fifteen minutes left.
I should have gone back to contract law.
I couldn't.
Because for the time in years someone was listening.
Really listening.
Not waiting for their turn to talk.
Not judging.
Just... There.
"I'm scared " I admitted.
"Of what?"
"Of needing this. Of needing anyone." I swallowed. "Of waking up one day and realizing I've built my life around being alone."
Zane set his pen down.
Turned his notebook so the blank page faced me.
"Write it down " he said.
"Write what?"
"Everything you're scared of. Everything you've never told anyone." He pushed the notebook toward me. "Get it out of your head."
"I can't."
"You can."
"What if you read it?"
"I won't."
"What if someone finds it?"
"They won't."
I stared at the page.
My hand hovered over the pen.
I wanted to write everything.
I couldn't.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
•••••
I pushed the notebook back.
"Maybe next time."
Zane nodded. Didn't push. Didn't look disappointed.
"Same time Monday?"
" time Monday."
He stood up. Pushed his chair in. Sling his bag over his shoulder.
"Sydney."
I looked up.
"You're stronger than you think."
Then he left.
I sat there alone in the room realizing I'd just told Zane more than I'd told anyone in years.
“Holy crap”…: