Standing in front of Fabian, I sighed, the weight of the earlier chaos still pressing on my chest.
"Hey… calm down," Fabian said, trying his hardest to steady himself, though I could see the tension in his jaw.
"Can you go get my sister for me?" I asked, voice low. "I don't know this school that well, and I'll definitely get lost." I just needed someone to talk to—someone who'd let me vent, maybe even make me laugh a little. Renae was that person.
"I don't have a problem with that," he said, chuckling. "Not like you know the school at all."
"Whatever," I muttered, bumping his shoulder playfully and rolling my eyes.
He laughed softly, then placed his hand gently on my lower back, eyes locking with mine like he was trying to read every thought I'd ever had. He tilted his head, gesturing for me to walk ahead.
"Want me to carry you?" he asked, voice low and smooth, like velvet wrapping around my ribs.
"Huh?" I blinked, completely thrown off by how warm and grounding his touch felt. How the hell could someone's hand feel that… magical?
"You're not moving," he murmured, still close, his breath brushing my cheek. His hand stayed firm on my back, his face now just an inch from mine.
"Oh," I breathed, caught in his gaze, unable to move even if I wanted to.
"Veronica?" a voice called out—familiar, jarring, and completely out of place.
I snapped out of it, jerking away from Fabian and turning toward the voice.
"Matthew?" I said, my voice cracking at the end.
"Oh my freaking God… Veronica Thompson," he said, stepping forward with a crooked grin
"What are you doing here?" I asked, stunned. "Am I dreaming?" I blinked hard, trying to make sense of it. USC? Really? Matthew didn't even look like he could tell his head from his ass. I always thought my sister only dated dumb, empty-headed guys with enough money to fund her trashy lifestyle.
"You know him?" Fabian asked, his tone laced with something I couldn't quite place.
Was it jealousy?
Lol. No, Veronica. Why the hell would he be jealous?
Still… it was definitely something.
"Ex-brother-in-law," Matthew answered flatly.
"Renae?" Fabian asked, confused.
"Elanaise," we both said in unison.
"And speaking of Renae," I added quickly, turning to Fabian, "can you please go look for her? I really need a word with him."
"I mean… I don't wanna leave you alone and you get lost," Fabian said, his voice soft, sincere.
"I'm fine," I replied.
"I can take her wherever she needs to go," Matthew cut in, way too fast, his tone sharp.
"I get that, man, but I'm—"
"I'm a guide too, Fabian. So what are you trying to say?" Matthew's voice was stone, laced with something darker. Hatred? Jealousy? Whatever it was, the tension between them was about to blow the roof off this place.
Before I could even process what the hell was happening, I was smack in the middle of them—two grown-ass men squared off like they were about to throw hands.
Wait. Hold up.
Matthew knew who Fabian was. He called him by name. This wasn't some random standoff. This was a long-simmering fuse, and I was the damn match.
"Fabian," I said softly, stepping between them. His eyes flicked from Matthew's glare to me. "I'll be fine. He can walk me back to the Welcome Hall. You can meet me there with Renae, okay? Please."
His eyes shifted—dark to soft, then pleading. Like he was asking if I was sure. If I was safe.
"I'll be fine. I promise," I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.
"Yeah, Fabian. She'll be fine," Matthew added, smug.
I elbowed him hard in the gut.
"Fuck," he wheezed, doubling over.
I grabbed his arm and yanked him away before Fabian could say anything else. I threw one last smile over my shoulder, hoping it would be enough to keep Fabian from following.
Once we were out of range, I let go of Matthew's arm and stepped back, arms crossed, giving him a look that screamed: Talk. Now.
"You really are a magnet for attracting shitty people," he said, laughing as he leaned against the wall, eyes locked on mine like he was trying to dig something out of me.
"Says the shitty person talking right now," I snapped.
"Ungrateful much?" he shot back, rubbing his ribs. "That shitty person saved your life."
"Thank you," I said, voice low but steady. "Okay? Thank you for what you did that night. I could've died, and you saved me. So for that, I'm forever grateful. You were the last person I expected to intervene after seeing me get whooped more than once by my dad."
His face twisted, like the memory physically hurt. "I only ever saw him slap you. I didn't know it was that bad. Elanaise always said you were a troublesome bitch—stealing, lying, stirring shit. I thought it was just their way of disciplining you. But that night? That wasn't discipline. That was a fucking execution."
I turned away, blinking fast as tears blurred my vision.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice cracking. "I'm sorry for not stepping up sooner. For believing the lies. For being manipulated in the name of love. Veronica, I'm so—"
"Please stop," I cut in, voice trembling as the tears spilled. My chest ached, tight and raw. "You doing what you did gave me life. Peace. Happiness. A real family. You don't need to be sorry. Matthew… thank you."
I looked back at him, and for the first time, I saw something different in his eyes. Not pity. Not guilt. Just truth.
He nodded slowly, then looked away, jaw tight. "You're stronger than all of them combined. You always were. That's what scared them."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to.
But then he added, "Just don't let that Fabian guy get too close."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I'm serious," he said, tone hard again. "I know his type. All calm and collected on the outside, but there's something off. He's too careful. Too polished. Guys like that? They're hiding something."
I narrowed my eyes. "He saved me. He didn't have to. He could've walked away, but he didn't."
Matthew scoffed. "Yeah, well, maybe he likes the way you look when you're broken. Some people do."
I stepped forward, voice sharp. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to act like you care now and then try to control who I talk to. You're not my brother. You're not my friend. You're just the guy who finally did the bare minimum after years of silence."
He flinched, but didn't argue.
"I'm not asking for your approval," I continued. "I'm not asking for your protection. I'm not yours to protect. I'll talk to whoever the hell I want."
He nodded once, slowly. "Fine. Just… don't say I didn't warn you."
I turned to leave, but paused. "You watched my dad—my whole family—cow me down and didn't say shit. So maybe sit this one out."
And with that, I turned to walk away, ready to leave him in silence.
Because I wasn't that girl anymore. I wasn't the one waiting to be saved.
I was the one saving myself.
Suddenly—without warning—Matthew's hand clamped around my wrist before I could take another step, his grip firm, deliberate, like he'd been counting down the exact second I'd try to walk away.
"Let go," I snapped, yanking hard, but he didn't budge.
"Not happening," he said, voice low and sharp. "You don't know this campus. You'll get lost."
"I'll figure it out," I shot back, twisting against his grip. "I'm not a damn toddler."
He didn't even flinch. "You're acting like one."
That stopped me cold.
"What the hell is your problem?" I hissed, stepping into his space. "You show up out of nowhere, start throwing shade at people you don't even know, and now you're dragging me around like I'm some lost puppy?"
He didn't answer. Just turned and started walking, still holding my wrist like I was luggage he didn't ask for but had to carry anyway.
"Matthew!" I barked, stumbling to keep up. "Let. Me. Go."
He didn't. Not until we reached the edge of the main quad, the Welcome Center glowing ahead like some damn holy temple. He stopped, turned to face me, eyes hard, jaw locked. Still silent.
Then he resumed walking, dragging me again like I was some unruly dog on a leash.
I yanked against him, but his grip was iron. His pace didn't slow.
"Why are you even here?" I demanded. "You dropped me at the hospital and disappeared. You didn't even know I was coming to USC."
"I didn't," he said, eyes still forward. "Didn't know until I saw you earlier. And trust me, I wish I hadn't."
"Then walk away," I snapped. "You're good at that."
He stopped again—so fast I nearly crashed into him. We were right outside the Welcome Center now, the glass doors gleaming under the afternoon sun.
He turned, eyes sharp as blades. "You need to stop constantly acting like a child."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he said, voice low and cutting. "You trust too easily. You act like you've got something to prove every time you open your mouth. Like being loud and reckless makes you strong. It doesn't. It makes you a target."
I clenched my fists. "You don't get to talk to me like that."
"I do when I'm the only one who's seen what happens when you're not careful. That mouth of yours that night—firing back at your dad like you were trying to fight his full-grown-ass muscularity, like he wasn't the man of the house—almost got you killed."
I stared at him, chest tight, throat burning.
"You think you're untouchable now? You're not. You're just lucky. And luck runs out."
"You don't have to like me," he continued. "Hell, I don't even care if you hate me. But you need to chill. Listen. Be smart. You've got a second chance—don't blow it trying to act like some tough brat who doesn't need anyone."
He finally let go of my arm.
"I brought you to the hospital because I didn't want to see you die. That's it. I'm not your savior. I'm not your friend. But I'm not gonna stand here and watch you walk into another mess just because you think you've got something to prove."
I scoffed. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," he snapped. "I know what your father did to you. I know what I saw that night. And I know if you keep walking around like you're on some high horse, forgetting what the fuck you just escaped from, someone's gonna finish what he started."
I froze.
He stepped closer, eyes locked on mine. "You think I'm warning you because I care? I'm warning you because I've seen what happens when people like you believe the wrong person. And that Fabian guy?" He shook his head. "He's not what he seems. I know him. I've seen him before. And I'm telling you—don't get comfortable."
I clenched my jaw. "He saved me."
"So did I," Matthew said coldly. "Once. That doesn't make me a hero. Doesn't make him one either. People aren't always who they pretend to be. Especially the ones who play it calm."
I looked away, heart pounding.
"I'm not here to fight you," he said. "I'm not here to be your friend. I'm not even supposed to be here. But I saw you, and I couldn't walk away. Not again."
He stepped back, gaze sweeping over me like he was trying to memorize this version of me.
"You're here now. You've got a shot at something better. Don't screw it up trying to prove you don't need anyone. Just… chill. You got back a family—that Renae girl, whoever the hell she is. Make that shit count."
He took one last look at me.
"Be careful, Veronica."
And then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd like he'd never been there. Shoulders squared. Pace steady. Like he hadn't just ripped me open and walked off with the truth.
I stood there, heart still racing, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest.
I hated him. I hated that he still had that power. I hated that he was right.
But I wasn't going to let him—or anyone—decide who I trusted.
I straightened my shoulders, wiped my face, and stepped toward the doors.
Because this was my beginning.
And no one was going to rewrite it but me.