Chapter 42 Garrett
Garrett
Aslan inhaled slowly, studying me just as hard.
Oh, baby lion… If you knew the truth. If you knew me at all—
But now it was too late. Too late.
“Actually,” he said, his voice steady, “it’s not like that.”
Every head turned toward him.
“This is a personal matter. Nothing to do with discrimination or targeting. It was private. Between us.”
I sighed, closing my eyes in resignation. It was over.
“I provoked him,” he continued. “More than once. I was angry and acted very immaturely.”
My heart slammed.
Wait… What?
The director frowned. “Mr. Rivers—”
“He stole my girlfriend,” Aslan added bluntly.
The room went still.
Max and the others looked stunned. And probably so did I.
I stared at him, but he didn’t look at me.
“I confronted him, and he didn’t take it well,” Aslan went on calmly. “I didn’t take it well either. I pushed. He snapped. That’s on both of us.”
My mother’s expression shifted—not softening, not hardening. Just recalibrating.
“Now about the hospital incident… I appreciate everyone’s help and concern, but it was just stress and dehydration. My blood pressure went up. It had nothing to do with him. I was already feeling sick.”
Dr. Graves watched Aslan carefully, like he was testing for cracks.
“He gave you the Silver Star on your first day, Aslan… come on,” Max intervened. “He’s been bullying you all semester—”
Aslan glanced at me, catching the subtle tremor of my lip.
“I don’t feel bullied,” Aslan replied. “We don’t like each other. That’s different.”
Silence stretched.
Director Roosevelt exhaled slowly. “That is… an important distinction.”
I found my voice before I even decided to use it.
“He’s right,” I said evenly, keeping my tone measured. “We’ve both been idiots. It escalated. It won’t again.”
My eyes met Aslan’s then.
For a second.
Just long enough to say thank you without saying it.
Just long enough for him to see the relief I couldn’t hide.
Around us, the adults seemed to collectively step back from the cliff.
My mother folded her hands. “Then I trust this institution to ensure that any… misunderstandings remain contained.”
Contained… That word echoed.
My therapist gave me one last look that I couldn’t decipher at all.
This wasn’t over. But for now, my lion had given me something I didn’t deserve.
An out.
The director eventually cleared his throat again.
“I believe we’ve covered what was necessary. Mr. Rivers, once your medical clearance is documented properly, you will be able to return to class. Mr. Holt,” he nodded toward Max, “thank you for bringing concerns to our attention.”
It was dismissal. Chairs shifted, and Max rose first. Aslan stood more slowly.
For a fraction of a second, our eyes met. Something passed between us—something dangerous and unfinished. Then I became aware of who was still in the room, and I looked down.
By the time I lifted my head again, he was walking out.
The door closed behind the students.
The director folded his hands. “Mrs. William, again, I apologize if this felt excessive.”
My mother stood gracefully. “I trust that next time, if the matter concerns adolescent heartbreak, I will not be summoned. We pay more than enough for this institution to manage its own… internal student disputes.”
The director inclined his head. “Understood.”
A few more formalities followed. Controlled nods. Handshakes.
Then he glanced at Dr. Graves. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll have my assistant finalize the paperwork.”
It was a dismissal disguised as courtesy before he stepped out.
The door closed, and the air immediately felt heavy, charged.
I turned toward her. “Mother, I just—”
“I warned you,” she said sharply, cutting straight through me. “I warned you not to drag me into any more of your complications. I warned you not to attract attention.”
Her tone wasn’t loud.
It was precise.
“I see now,” she continued coolly, “that perhaps we have allowed you too much independence.”
My throat tightened. “It was just about a girl. It wasn’t—”
“Garrett.”
Dr. Graves’ voice was calm. Measured. Deadly.
“This is not about the girl.”
He stepped slightly closer, not threatening—simply occupying space.
“The concern here,” he continued gently, “is that you appear… distracted again.”
My palms started to sweat.
“We’ve worked very hard to build focus. Discipline. Direction. It would be unfortunate to see that progress compromised.”
I felt my fingers twitch at my sides.
“I don’t understand,” I said, though I did. I absolutely did.
My mother’s gaze didn’t soften.
“You are free on Saturdays,” Dr. Graves said smoothly. “Your mother and I have discussed resuming our sessions. Maintenance is important.”
My pulse pounded in my ears.
“Resuming?” I repeated.
“Yes,” he replied. “Starting this Saturday. Bright and early.”
The room felt smaller.
“I would like you to bring your journals. All of them. We will review your recent thoughts, your patterns, your impulses. A full assessment. We need to determine where your balance has shifted.”
Sweat slid slowly down my back beneath my shirt.
“I’ve been fine,” I managed.
“Of course you have,” he said softly. “And we intend to ensure you remain that way.”
No room for argument.
No room for refusal.
“Have a good week,” he added, already stepping toward the door. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
My mother adjusted her coat. “I expect you to behave until then,” she said. “No more incidents.” And just like that, they left. The door clicked shut behind them, and I remained standing in the center of the room, staring at nothing.
Saturday. The center. The journals. Every thought. Every impulse. Reviewed. Corrected. Realigned.
For the first time since Aslan had collapsed, he was not the sole center of my mind, and I wasn’t afraid of what I had done…
I was afraid of what they would make me do next.
The second they were out of sight, I walked the opposite direction and then broke into a run. I didn’t even think about where I was going. I just needed something that didn’t feel like a leash tightening around my throat. I needed help. I needed safety. The problem was, I wasn’t safe. And there was no one to go to. No one.
Except him.
Aslan was the only thing that steadied me when I started drifting. He was the anchor when my head got loud. He was the closest thing I had to safe. And he was also the reason everything was falling apart. I couldn’t go to him. What the hell would I even say?
I ended up at my usual hiding spot and pulled out my phone. I stared at his number—the one I’d stolen from Aitor a couple of weeks ago—and typed.
Hey. Can I see you, please? I’m not doing well. I’m in real trouble, and I don’t wanna do the wrong thing... I’m scared. I need you.
I didn’t send it.
I waited. I paced. I let my demons run the show for a while. I replayed everything, stupidly thinking he might come looking for me. But he didn’t. No one did.
By the time it got dark, my wrist was raw and stinging beneath my watchband. Nothing deep. Just enough to quiet the noise. The campus was empty when I finally stood up. I didn’t want to go back to my room—I couldn’t.
My urges were clawing at me, my hands shaking, my head spiraling out of control. So I walked toward Aitor’s studio, the only place that had ever made the screaming in my head slow down.