Suddenly, the theme song to the television show Lucifer bursts out of Wade’s pocket and he reaches for his cell phone. “Hello?” His face transforms from open to faltering in a matter of seconds. “Oh, yes. Um… I’m waiting on the funds to arrive. I should have it for you—” His eyes flick to me, then to the floor. “Yes, yes. I understand,” he says, biting the side of his cheek and kicking at the carpet. “No, don’t do that. I will definitely have it to you by the end of the week. Yes, thank you. I appreciate that.” He pulls the phone from his ear, pressing the red button and cramming the phone back into his pocket. Everything about his energy has deflated.
“Not good, huh?” I say, walking up to him and placing a hand on his upper arm.
He screws up his face and shakes his head. “Not really. They need my first trimester’s tuition by Friday or they’ll have to open my spot to another student.”
“Will you have the money from your grandpa by then?” I say, trying not to sound as alarmed as I feel.
He shrugs. “Probably not.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I dunno. Pull a bank job?” he says flippantly.
“Wade,” I groan.
“Kidding. Well, mostly kidding.” He steps away, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know. I’ll have to call the lawyer, I guess? Figure out if there’s a way to speed up the process. If that doesn’t work, then… I’ll resort to plan B.”
“Which is?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
His face turns ashen and his nostrils flare. “You probably don’t wanna know.”
Chapter 4
Desecrated
My pulse picks up speed as I slow down Big Blue and pull into the parking lot for Wade’s new apartment building. I hope to God he’s received good news from the lawyer today. If not, I shudder to think of what he’ll try to do in order to make things work. Especially since he seems hell-bent on not accepting help from anyone.
School starts on Monday and if he can’t pay his tuition today, there’s a good chance the school will give away his spot. After everything, it would be devastating for him. Especially to be this close, only to have to wait until next fall—or longer.
I park the car and take a deep breath, grounding myself for what’s to come. I truly sympathize with his plight. If it hadn’t been for my dad’s surprise payment, I never would have been able to make it work. Just saving for the U was bad enough. The stress will eat you up alive if you let it.
It’s freezing outside today. The temps have dropped below zero and even as small of a walk as it is from the parking lot to the front door, the chill can cut right through you. Making a mad dash from my vehicle to the building, I pull my coat in tight and thank the heavens for such warm gloves. The iron handle of the door is likely to remove skin at this temp. Other than the cold, when I reach the front door, I pull it back and enter without any of the previous reservations I had about the building. It’s funny how much a little perspective shift makes such a big difference.
I walk down the hallway, noticing the old-fashioned sconces along the wall. The decorative embellishments suggest they were created in a different era, which makes me smile. Blackwood Manor is full of the same kind of antiquated decorations, and they add to the overall ambiance of the place. I couldn’t imagine it being updated for a more modern look. It would just seem weird. This sort of decor makes me wonder if the same architects designed both buildings, or if the lighting was just the “in thing” at the time.
As I raise my hand to knock, Wade pulls back his door, ready for me.
“Hey, thought that was you,” he says, swinging it open farther. His eyes sparkle, taking the edge off my nerves about his tuition.
“Really? Was I walking like an elephant or something?” I laugh, dropping my arm to my side and walking in.
He chuckles, twisting around to point behind him. “No, I saw you pull in, thanks to the extra large window currently lacking curtains.”
“Ah, I see,” I say, smiling. “Guess we should make a trip to the store to get some of those, huh?”
“Probably wise.” He nods, closing the door with a click.
“So, go on then. What’s the good news?” I say, unable to help myself.
Wade takes a step back, his eyebrows lifting into his hairline. “Well…”
“Oh no, it is good news, right?” I say, my nerves getting the better of me again.
He flinches. “Yes and no, I guess.”
“Okay, you gotta give me more than that,” I mutter, removing a box from one of his wooden chairs that are butted against his tiny, two-person dining room table. Setting the box on the floor, I take a seat.
He leans forward on the other chair, pressing the palms of his hands against the back of the seat. “Well, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Good, definitely good,” I sputter.
“Okay, then. Good news is,” he takes a deep breath through his nostrils, “I can pay tuition for this semester.”
“Yay,” I say, clasping my hands together as relief floods through me. “That’s excellent news. Are you kidding me?”
“It is,” he says, his expression faltering.
I narrow my gaze. “But?”
“But…” he pulls back, running his hand across the back of his neck. “My inheritance money won’t cover as much as I originally thought. Even with the house sale, the county is taking a large chunk to recoup the costs for having the hospice services come out. So…” His voice trails off and he walks away.
“So…? What does that mean?” I repeat, standing up and following him.
“It means I’ll just about have enough to cover a full year.” His eyes drop to the floor and he presses his lips tight. “And that’s it.”
“Okay, well, that still gives you time. Right? I mean, that’s not terrible.”
He tilts his head to the side, shrugging. “I suppose. But it really just delays the inevitable. I either have a money problem now, or I have a money problem in a year.”
“But in a year, a lot could change. You can apply for scholarships and grants in the meantime. If you get a part-time job, you could save up. There are options,” I say, pressing my fingertips into the tabletop.
Wade steps forward, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “Have I told you, I love your optimism?”
I press my cheek into his chest and pull him in tight. “Why do I get the impression that’s your way of saying you’ve lost hope?”
“I’m not. I’m just a realist, Autumn. There’s a good chance I won’t be able to continue after this year,” he says, stepping back. “I don’t want to sugarcoat it and make it something that it’s not.”
I shake my head. “No, I refuse to accept that. There’s gotta be something we can do between now and then.”
“There is,” he says plainly.
“What? Anything… Name it, let’s do it,” I say, my eyes wide.
“Come with me to the academy so I can give them my cashier’s check for the year. Then, help make this year the most amazing one ever,” he says, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.