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“Provided your friends don’t tattoo my face or torture me to death, I am extending the deadline for your paper until you feel prepared to turn it in,” Barrigan finishes.
Something like hope swells in my chest. Even though I’ve tried to fight it, it overwhelms me, pushes past my doubt, my hard-learned lessons, my fear, and lifts the corners of my lips and makes a laugh well in my throat and burst from my mouth.
“You’ll accept my paper?” I say. Then I fetch it from my purse and hold it out. “This paper? I can turn it in?”
Professor Barrigan looks at the paper in my hands, his eyes narrowing slightly as if it might explode. He takes a deep breath and steps forward, the drink in his glass sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
“Yes,” he finally says, reaching out to take it from me. His hand trembles as he does. “But understand this, Emily. The quality of your work is what matters. Not the dire circumstances under which it was submitted, or the terrifying threats leveled against the person who will grade your paper.”
I nod, not entirely trusting myself to speak without letting out another disbelieving laugh. This is happening. This nightmare of a day is turning into something more. Something almost bearable.
Maggie beams at me, her grip on my shoulder tightening in solidarity, while Hunter and Diesel look on with expressions of satisfaction and a hint of menace — they’re like me, holding onto some bit of doubt that this good luck can be taken away at any moment.
“Emily,” Maggie says softly, bringing me back to the moment. “This is your chance. A real chance.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, though I’m not sure if I’m thanking her, Barrigan, Hunter, or some random cosmic force that bent things my way for once.
“You’ve earned this,” Hunter says, his tone softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You made it through so much. This is the least of what you deserve.”
“I love you, Hunter,” I say, and the words come out as a laugh as all the held-back joy breaks free and I run across the room to wrap my arms around the man I love, the man who would do anything for me, including kidnapping my professor and allowing his biker friend to tattoo animated characters on my professor’s face.
Professor Barrigan clears his throat, drawing all eyes back to him. “I will take this with me now and read it thoroughly. You will hear from me within the week regarding my feedback and your grade.”
“See?” Diesel says with an exaggerated shrug. “No need for holes in anyone’s feet, bamboo skewers under your fingernails, or tattoos of anime characters on people's faces.”
Professor Barrigan glares at him but says nothing further. He just clutches my paper and takes a long, long, long drink from his glass.
“I’m going to leave now. I’m going to leave, and I’m going to do a good job grading this paper, and I’m going to pray that I never see you two cretins ever again.”
“Love you, too, Professor,” Diesel says.
Hunter waves as my professor stumbles to the door.
I watch the door shut behind Professor Barrigan and then turn to Hunter. “Shouldn’t someone go after him? Is he even safe to drive?”
“He didn’t drink much. He’s just shaken up, that’s all,” Hunter says.
“He’s in his car right now. Looks like he’s crying. He just needs a few minutes to get it out and then he’ll be fine,” Diesel says, his eyes out the window. “And… he just wiped his tears, and he’s on his way. Would you like me to follow him, make sure he gets home OK?”
“No. You’ve tormented him enough, Diesel,” Maggie says.
“He was being such a prick about Emily’s paper. There was more waffling in our little conversation with him than in a diner on Sunday after church service,” Diesel says. “Seriously, it doesn’t take fucking rocket science to figure out that you give a little leeway to someone who went through the shit Emily did, yet that cockmuncher got his back up about his rules.”
“Thank you. All of you,” I say, then I kiss Hunter, and it feels like I’m kissing him for the first time all over again as all the stress and fear from all the crap I lived through melts away; I feel like I’m myself again, and it’s been too long since I could say that. “But especially you. Thank you, and I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
My eyes leave the man I love and I survey the room for a moment, taking count of the bottles — the empties, the half-empties, the full ones. Surrounded by some of the people I care about the most, people who would do anything for me, an idea takes hold; there’s enough here, but just enough. I have my future again. The dream that I thought was dead is suddenly mine again. I grab a bottle and a glass and fill it to the brim with red wine that smells like berries, plums, and spice.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, and I won’t accept any debate on this, OK? First, I’m going to call Harper, and Sophie, and you guys can call anyone you want, provided they aren’t crazy or creepy, and then we are going to empty every single bottle in this place, because I can think of no better way to finally celebrate having my life back than to spend time with the people who made that possible.”
I bring the glass to my smiling lips and take a long drink. It tastes so decadently sweet. Like hope.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Hunter
“Holy shit, where did all this stuff come from?” I say, staring at the stuffed moving van. I’ve been practically homeless, living in a fucking vacant house, and still, come moving day, I have so many goddamn boxes. As vexing as the situation is — seriously, where the fuck did this all come from? — I’m grinning.
