“Yes, hello. I’m here for Ms. Margo Bennett. I was told she was here.”
The sound of Rossy’s soft voice had me turned in my seat, and when he stepped into the room, my vision blurred with tears, my face crumpling. I shot up, leaving all my shit in the chair, and ran to him.
“Oh, darling girl—oof!”
My body crashed into his, my arms locking around his neck, the rough fabric of his tweed suit scratching my arms as he returned the embrace. “Houston, we have a major problem,” I croaked into his neck, my tears soaking into his shirt. “Shit is fucked. Everything is fucked, boss man.” I buried my face deeper, sobs racking my body as I let out everything I’d been holding in for the last few hours.
“Margo,” he called, putting his hands on my shoulders and gently pushing me back. My hold around him tightened. I didn’t want to go back to the real world yet.
If I did, then I would have to face my problems. I would have to tell Rossy the truth, let him see a side of me I never wanted anyone in this new part of my life to see.
I wasn’t good enough.
“What’s going on?” Rossy demanded. There was a foreign edge to his voice, and I found a strange comfort in it.
I looked up at him, the weight of my lost future on my shoulders, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “Someone took my money,” I whispered, shame coating me like a thick, toxic slime, burning my skin. It was as if a dirty secret had been aired out.
Rossy’s brows snapped together, his nostrils flaring. “Money? What money, darling? Were you robbed?”
Yes.
Robbed of everything I’d been working so hard toward for the last few years.
“Ms. Bennett.”
My forehead landed against Rossy’s chest, the scent of raspberry tea that always clung to his tweed overwhelming my senses, reminding me of my safe space. My home away from home. The bookstore. I sighed, suddenly very tired. “The university tried to take the payment for next semester out of my account, and it was declined,” I explained softly as my name was called again.
Rossy’s hands fell away from me. “There must be some mistake.”
No.
Just my bad luck catching up to me.
It was foolish of me to dream, to believe I could build a better life for myself.
My bottom lip trembled, and before I knew it, I was sobbing violently into his chest once more. His arms came around me as he asked my adviser if there was anything that could be done.I tuned most of the conversation out, knowing Mr. Tactine was only repeating what he’d told me, what his superiors had told me, and now, the dean of the business school had been notified. I had been instructed to go to my bank first, to see if there was a way to get the money back, claim fraud, and go from there. Mr. Tactine was also trying to pull some strings with the financial department to see if they would accept late payment on good faith and my GPA. I was only a handful of credits shy from graduation.
Logically, it was a solid plan, but I couldn’t see that right now. My anxiety wouldn’t let me see past the first bit of bad news holding me under. I’d had a panic attack, and Rossy, who is my emergency contact, was notified after I refused to go to the medical ward. I knew what it was. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me why my body was locked in fight, flight, or freeze.
“The dean will be in touch first thing in the morning, but for now, it would be best if Ms. Bennett goes home to rest. When I called her in today, I had no idea the complications of her situation. I’ve worked here for twelve years, and this is the first time anything like this has happened,” Mr. Tactine murmured from behind me.
“Right. I’ll get her home and we’ll sort this out in the morning,” Rossy agreed, his voice kind as he rubbed my back.
He was always so damn kind.
“Margo,” he called, pushing me back a bit.
When my eyes met his, sadness flashed across his features. “Let’s get you home.”
After two minutes of deliberation, we decided to leave my car on campus and grab it tomorrow. Rossy’s only priority right now was to get me home so I could “rest.” So he grabbed my things, plopped them in his trunk, and nestled me in the passenger seat of his vintage BMW. Then we were off. I stared out the window most of the way, soaking up the soft jazz and warmth aroundme as I disassociated, drifting off into a different world where everything went right for me.
In the real world, I was teased, broken, and always, always left out in the cold.
“Shall I call Sarah or Carrie? Have them mee—”
I whirled in my seat, the plaid blanket he’d given me flying over the cup holders. “No, please,” I begged. Rossy was a straight arrow when it came to driving, and I’d always found it adorable that his hands were always at ten and two on the steering wheel. Except right now, it wasn’t adorable because it was paired with a look of concern that scared the crap out of me.
“Margo, the girls are better at—”