Chapter 171

Chapter 171
Katie

At eight fifty-five, I was sitting at the desk, staring at my laptop like it might explode. Lucas had retreated to give me privacy, but I could hear him moving around next door, close enough for comfort without crowding.

At exactly nine, the call came through.

I clicked accept, and Emily's face filled the screen.

She looked different. Older, obviously—we both were—but also more polished. Her hair was longer, pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore wire-rimmed glasses I didn't remember. Behind her, I could see built-in bookshelves and a window with distinctly English architecture.

"Katie." Her voice cracked, and then she was crying, actual tears streaming down her face. "Oh my god, you absolute asshole."

I blinked. "What?"

"Two years!" She grabbed a tissue. "Two years and you sent maybe three texts! I thought you were dead! I thought—" She broke off, pressing the tissue to her eyes. "God, I'm such a mess."

Guilt crashed over me in waves. "Emily, I'm so sorry. I—"

"Don't apologize. Just tell me you're okay. Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay," I said quickly. "I'm good. Really good, actually."

She took a shaky breath, composing herself. "You better be. Because if you're not, I'm flying back just to murder you myself."

Despite everything, I laughed. "Fair."

"I got really good at underground fighting, actually."

Her mouth fell open. "You're joking."

"Nope. I've been training with a tactical combat club in California. Did a match in Phoenix a few months ago."

"Katie Harrison." She shook her head slowly. "My sweet, nerdy study partner who needed help with basic algebra. You're telling me you're now a cage fighter and a baseball coach?"

"I was never that nerdy."

"You asked me to explain the quadratic formula three times!"

"In my defense, I was dealing with a lot."

She laughed, but it was tinged with something else—concern, maybe, or disbelief. "Okay. Okay, I need the full story. What the hell happened after you left?"

So I told her. Not everything—that would take hours—but the broad strokes. Getting pulled into the Cartwright mess. The conflicts with Brandon and the rest of that toxic family. Transferring to St. Clair and somehow becoming an assistant coach. The underground fighting circuit. Chile. Phoenix. All of it.

"And Lucas Winston?" Emily asked when I paused for breath. "Ty mentioned you two are... involved?"

Heat crept up my neck. "Yeah. We're together."

"Katie. He's terrifying. I mean, gorgeous, obviously, but also deeply scary. Remember when he made that sophomore cry just by looking at him?"

"He's changed," I said defensively. "He's been in therapy. Working on his control issues."

"Uh-huh. And where are you living right now?"

"...His family's estate."

"Katie!"

"It's not like that!" But even as I said it, I could hear how it sounded. "Emily, I swear, he's different now. He respects my boundaries. He doesn't try to control me anymore."

She studied me through the screen, skepticism warring with something softer. "You really believe that?"

"I do. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Okay." She sighed. "If you trust him, I trust your judgment. But Katie, if he ever pulls any of that controlling bullshit again, you call me. I don't care if I'm in England. I'll fly back and help you hide the body."

I smiled. "Noted. Though I should mention—I could probably take him in a fight."

"That I believe." She leaned forward. "Any other major life updates? Secret tattoos? Joined a cult?"

"I got engaged."

The silence stretched so long I thought the connection had frozen.

"Emily?"

"You're fucking with me."

"I'm not."

"Katie. You're twenty years old."

"I know."

"And you're engaged. To Lucas Winston. The guy you've been dating for what, a few months?"

"It's complicated. His family has this tradition—a blood oath ceremony—"

"Oh my god." She rubbed her temples. "You did a blood oath engagement. Ty mentioned something about that once. I thought he was exaggerating."

"It's a real tradition. And yes, we did it."

"Katie." She looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "This is insane. You know that, right? This is objectively insane."

"Maybe. But I want this. I want him." The words came out fierce, certain. "These past two years, I've seen enough people and enough bullshit to know what I actually want. And it's him."

Emily was quiet for a long moment, and I could see her trying to reconcile the person she'd known with the person I'd become. Finally, she sighed.

"Okay. If you're sure, then I'm happy for you. But seriously, if he hurts you—"

"You'll help me hide the body. I know." I smiled. "I've got a whole queue of people offering that service."

"Good. You deserve people who have your back." She adjusted her glasses. "So what about me? You want to know what I've been up to?"

"Please. Distract me from my insane life choices."

She laughed, and for the next hour, we talked. About Oxford, about her research in international relations, about the friends she'd made and the life she'd built. About how St. Clair had felt too small, too suffocating, too full of people playing games she didn't want to play.

"I needed to get out," she said. "Away from all the status games and the constant competition. Oxford's competitive too, obviously, but at least here I can breathe. I can be myself without worrying about whose family has more money or who's getting into which Ivy."

"I get that," I said quietly. "That's part of why I left too. I needed space to figure out who I was without everyone else's expectations."

"And did you? Figure it out?"

I thought about that—about the farm and Jack, about the fighting and the baseball and Lucas, about all the ways I'd been broken apart and put back together. "Yeah. I think I did."

"Good." She smiled, warm and genuine. "I'm glad. You deserve to know who you are, Katie. You deserve to be happy."

"So do you."

"I'm working on it." She glanced at her watch. "God, it's almost two in the morning here. I should sleep. But Katie—I'm coming back for Christmas break. Can we meet up? Actually see each other in person?"

"Absolutely. I'd love that."

"Good. Because I have a lot more questions about this engagement thing, and I want to ask them while looking you in the eye to make sure you haven't been brainwashed."

I laughed. "Fair enough."

"Okay. I'll text you when I have my flight details." She paused. "And Katie? I'm really glad you're okay. I missed you."

"I missed you too. I'm sorry I disappeared."

"Don't apologize. Just don't do it again."

"I won't. Promise."

We said our goodbyes, and I closed the laptop, leaning back in the chair with a long exhale. The conversation had been easier than I'd expected, but also harder—facing the reality of how much time had passed, how much I'd changed, how much I'd put people through by vanishing.