Page 31

SKYE

I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the tension in my shoulders pull tight before finally releasing. The last stack of graded finals sat neatly on Professor White’s desk, a triumphant finish to a grueling evening of red ink and secondhand stress over the periodic table.

I glanced at the clock—almost five. I had a night game to cover soon.

After putting everything away, I bundled up to leave the building.

I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets as I stepped into the hallway, the cool air of the building brushing against my skin.

The campus was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every sound echo just a little too loudly.

Guilt ate at me as my sneakers squeaked against the linoleum.

Fiona’s questions about Professor White lingered in the back of my mind, and I couldn’t shake the heavy weight of my answers.

I hadn’t said anything damning—just observations, facts—but even those felt like betrayals when stacked against the backdrop of a student found dead.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I was just past the dimly lit rows of lockers near the lab rooms when I heard voices—familiar voices.

I slowed my steps, my heart skipping a beat.

Around the corner, just at the edge of the hallway leading to the lecture halls, Joe stood with one of the football players who was also in my entry-level science TA session.

My brows furrowed. Joe was usually the epitome of easygoing—sarcastic and teasing in that big-brother way—but his posture was stiff, his body angled slightly away like he was trying to hide whatever was happening.

I shifted to the side, staying hidden in the corridor’s shadows.

Joe’s hand dipped into his sweatshirt pocket, emerging with a small baggie. My stomach dropped as he passed it to the football player, who accepted it with a glance over his shoulder before shoving it into his pocket.

It wasn’t vitamins or supplements—it was drugs.

It had to be. And Joe wasn’t just involved, he was the one supplying them.

A cold certainty settled in my chest. Joe was the dealer.

The signs had been there all along, but now, there was no mistaking it.

The question wasn’t whether he was guilty—it was how far this went.

Who else is involved? Megan? The research group? The entire department?

I covered my mouth with my hand, willing myself to stay silent.

This couldn’t be happening. The athlete— what’s his name?

Tyler? No, Marc —his effort in class had always been mediocre at best, but recently, something about him had shifted.

His performance on the field had caught the coaches’ attention, drawing praise that seemed too sudden to be entirely earned.

I didn’t want to believe it, not about Joe. But he was standing there, casually handing off something to a student athlete like it was nothing.

A sick sort of dread curled in my stomach. Joe’s words from a few weeks ago echoed in my head, his tone sharp with concern as he warned me about getting too involved with Liam. “Guys like that will ruin you, Skye. They take what they want and leave the rest in pieces.” How hypocritical could he be?

I stepped back, the motion too quick and clumsy, and my sneaker squeaked against the floor. Both of their heads whipped in my direction.

Panic surged through me as I spun on my heel, forcing myself to walk—no, run—down the hallway. My pulse thundered in my ears as I reached the building’s exit, shoving the heavy glass door open and practically bursting into the cool night air.

The dark campus stretched before me, the faint hum of a streetlamp overhead doing little to calm my nerves. I didn’t stop moving until I reached the parking lot, ducking behind my car to catch my breath.

What the hell did I just see?

I leaned against the cold metal, my hands trembling as I pressed them to my temples. Joe wasn’t just my friend—he was one of my safe places .The one person I trusted to have my back in this hectic world of school, TA-ing, and balancing motherhood. And now…

My stomach churned. I couldn’t go back inside. Not tonight.

Sliding into my car, I locked the doors.

My forehead rested against the steering wheel as I tried to steady the wild thrum of my heart.

I whipped out my phone and called Fiona, quickly relaying everything to her about what I’d seen, and what it could’ve been about.

Maybe. Maybe I was mistaken and it was an innocent mistake? God, I hoped so, but it was unlikely.

After she thanked me for the information, she told me under no circumstances to go near the suspects.

I needed to figure out how deep this went and who else was involved—from a distance. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous than I’d ever anticipated.

T he stadium buzzed with energy that seemed to pulse in time with the music blasting through the speakers. Fans waved banners and screamed themselves hoarse as the game unfolded under the stadium lights.

My camera was a comforting weight around my neck as I moved along the sidelines, snapping shots of the action.

I let the excitement fill me, chasing away some of the worry. This was my element—the organized chaos of the game, the tension hanging in the air like static electricity. It was exhilarating, the perfect distraction from the tangled mess of emotions I carried like an overstuffed suitcase.

But no matter how hard I tried, my gaze returned to Liam. His sharp focus on the field mirrored the stability he’d started bringing to my life—a stability I desperately needed with everything else spiraling out of control.

Through my lens, I captured him in motion—cutting through the defense with a sharp precision that made my breath catch.

His attention was razor-sharp, his body coiled with strength and determination.

It struck me then how Liam’s unwavering commitment wasn’t just about the game but about who he was.

And despite all the doubts swirling in my head, I found myself trusting him in a way I couldn’t with anyone else.

I’d seen him play before, but this was different. Or maybe I was different.

I shook my head and aimed my camera elsewhere. My job was to cover the team, not obsess over Liam. But when his eyes briefly met mine after a perfectly executed play, my pulse skipped. It was a fleeting moment, but it steadied something inside me, like an anchor in a storm.

As the game progressed, I shifted the camera angle, aiming at the jubilant faces of the crowd, but I kept drifting back to Liam.

I caught him mid-play and realized how much I’d started leaning on him lately.

It wasn’t just Lily—it was me too. He wasn’t perfect, but he was honest, and that mattered more than anything.

I lost myself in the excitement swirling around me, snapping pictures like crazy, itching to edit and post them as soon as possible.

During halftime, I uploaded a few stellar ones with catchy phrases to encourage engagement.

The second half flew by, but I found myself zeroing in on a couple of players.

Marc, the second-string tight end, juked past a defender, his movements too precise, too powerful for someone who’d struggled to keep up just weeks ago.

My stomach twisted. The improvement wasn’t just surprising—it was uncanny.

And as much as I wanted to dismiss it as hard work, I couldn’t unsee the connections forming from spotting him in the science building.

The game ended in a roar of victory, the team rushing the field. As the players celebrated, my eyes found Liam again. He was in the center of it all, grounded and unshakable. I let the mayhem fade for a moment, anchoring myself in the one thing that felt solid—him.

My camera hung loosely around my neck as I scanned the players, the coaches, and the euphoric fans.

My mind raced, recalling Megan’s offhand comment about muscle recovery and stamina.

Is that what I’m seeing here? The science nerd in me wanted to chalk it up to rigorous training, but the unease in my gut said otherwise.

She and Joe had been working on research about performance enhancement in athletes. Megan had mentioned it casually in passing. At the time, I’d been too busy to consider it. But now, with what I’d witnessed, the idea clung to me like a burr.

I didn’t want to know. Not really. But ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away—and if there was one thing being Lily’s mom had taught me, it was how to face what scared me most. Whatever was happening, I couldn’t look the other way.

Something was off—Joe’s exchange in the hallway, the sudden improvement of certain players, Megan’s comments about performance enhancement. It all felt too connected to ignore. If I wanted answers, I would have to dig for them myself.

Joe wasn’t just my friend—he was a peer I’d trusted in this whirlwind of school and motherhood.

And now, that trust felt like it was crumbling to dust, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.

Was this the same guy who covered for me in class when I was late?

The one who teased me endlessly but never let me down?

How could he be hiding something like this?

Or is Megan the culprit—is she using him?

Could it be that he isn’t aware of her real agenda?

Something was gnawing at me, and I couldn’t shake it.

I needed to know if there was even a chance that he was involved in something bigger—something that could explain the sudden changes I saw on the field. And Megan’s research might be the key to finding them.

My gut screamed at me to stay away, to keep myself as far from this as possible. But I can’t. If there’s a chance I could clear Joe’s name, I had to take it. Aside from that, someone else might get hurt—or worse.

Without really thinking, I pulled out my phone and texted Megan.

Me: Where are you? I need to talk.

Her response came quickly. In the science building. What’s going on?

I didn’t bother replying. I was already weaving through the crowd, my feet carrying me away from the stadium and toward campus.

Megan was waiting for me outside the lab, her arms crossed against the cold. Her red scarf stood out against her dark coat, and she gave me a curious smile as I approached.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked.

“I want in on your research group,” I said, the words tumbling out without preamble.

Megan blinked, startled by my sudden urgency, but I couldn’t slow down.

If there was a way to figure out what was happening—who was involved and why—this was it.

It was risky, but doing nothing wasn’t an option.

Not when athletes were dying, and the research could be tied to it.

It might be dangerous, but I would never know the truth unless I got close.

I would have to be careful—stay on the edges, ask the right questions.

I couldn’t let them suspect I knew anything.

Megan’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, her expression faltered. “You want to join?” she asked, her tone caught between curiosity and something else—wariness maybe.

Something in her voice was off, like she was testing me. I nodded quickly, keeping my expression neutral. “I’ve been curious about your work for a while. I think it could be important.”

Megan studied me for a beat longer then smiled—less enthusiastic, more controlled. “All right. I’ll talk to Joe.”

The thought of facing Joe again made my stomach twist. I didn’t know if I could look him in the eye, not after what I’d seen.

But I had to find out what they were hiding—and I had to play it smart, so to hide my anxiety, I quickly added, “It’s research, and I’m invested.

” Invested in nothing happening to Liam .

“Okay. That makes sense. I suppose we could use your insights from the social media angle to track trends and patterns in player activity. Are you sure, though? I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said quickly. “I just… I think this could be important.”

She studied me for a moment then nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you looped in.”

We walked into the building together, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.

My thoughts raced as Megan started explaining some of their findings, mentioning Joe’s contributions and the different angles they were exploring.

I hoped the research would help me understand what I’d seen.

But as I listened, the knot in my stomach tightened.

Part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answers.