Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)
Heart of Thorns: Chapter 42

I sit across from the dean as calm as ever. Thorne and his coach sit in the other two chairs, awaiting their fate like Dean Winters is the Devil and Thorne’s parents are his demons.

“They did call me, yes,” Dean Winters confirms, bouncing his attention back and forth between Thorne and his coach.

Thorne scoffs and crosses his arms angrily. “Let me guess? They offered you some fancy building in exchange to transfer me out of school.”

Despite Thorne telling his parents—very colorfully, might I add—that he was through being their little puppet, they continue to try and control his life. Their phone calls are daily at this point, and the last argument they had ended with a threat to call the dean from Thorne’s father.

Thorne’s leg begins hopping up and down with his nerves, so I reach out and place my hand on his thigh. The bouncing stops immediately.

I pat the denim of his jeans and clear my throat.

Dean Winters briefly glances at me before turning away.

It’s like he thinks if he makes eye contact with me, he’ll burst into flames or something. Or maybe he’s afraid I’ll start yelling at him like my mother did when he questioned me after I divulged what had happened the first time I was caught in a fire.

This time was my fault entirely.

I purposely put myself in a direct path of the raging flames, but it was to save Thorne, Ben, and Rhys.

The dean would have an ever bigger problem on his hands if I didn’t ram Rhys’s car into school property. There would be three dead football players and a whole lot of questions.

Right now, the only questions he has to answer are from the police and to the parents of those involved. The fire was on the news, and all over social media, but since the investigation is still ongoing, we haven’t been public about it.

Stephen is behind bars, though the only ones who have noticed are the players on the football team. Apparently, no one other than his family likes him enough to miss him. Once the investigation is over and it goes to trial, people may learn what Stephen did, but for now, things are being swept under the rug. Though, Rhys has a plan in the works to celebrate Stephen’s departure which will likely cause some attention. Ben, whose injuries were similar to Thorne’s and Rhys’s, ended up taking the rest of the semester off. Despite the horror of what happened, we’re all okay.

Thorne’s football coach leans forward in his seat. His elbows dig into his knees. “You’re just going to accept their bribe? Rob me of one of the best players I’ve ever had? He is destined for the pros.”

Thorne’s leg bounces again, and the rising testosterone in the room is giving me a headache.

I clear my throat, and this time, everyone gives me the attention I’m silently demanding.

“Do you have something to say, Ms. Hart?” Dean Winters is unquestionably assertive and commands the room with his gruff voice.

I don’t let it deter me for one second.

“Actually, I do.”

His eyebrows rise.

Thorne quietly chuckles.

And his poor coach is hanging on by a thread.

“Do you recall last spring when I was nearly killed?” I don’t give him even a second to respond. “Remember when you questioned my report to the police and the retelling of all the details from that night? You scoffed when I said that someone had trapped me in that burning building?”

Thorne’s head snaps over to me in my peripheral vision. His coach mutters something.

Dean Winters exhales deeply, however, he doesn’t deny it.

I cross my leg—the one that will likely never be the same—over the other. His gaze falls right to it.

“Then, when the police confirmed that it was suspected arson, you looked me right in the eye and practically begged me to keep it a secret. You didn’t want any of the students to freak out.” I use air quotes to really drive my point. “Which really just translated to you not wanting any media coverage over the fact that one of your students was a potential arsonist who was still on the run.” I smile softly at him. “You most definitely didn’t want any of the parents to know, because most would be fearful and beg their children to transfer to a safer school.”

The office fills with silence.

Thorne’s coach rubs his hand down his face with stress. The scratchiness of his palm against hair breaks the tension.

Dean Winters nods slowly. “Your point?”

I glance at Thorne, and he’s smirking at me. I keep his attention when the next words flow from my mouth with ease. “You tell Thorne’s parents to take their money elsewhere. You allow him to finish out the year and the next, if he chooses to complete his degree before furthering his football career.” I turn and pin the dean with a glare. “Or I’ll leak the police records and make sure every news station from here to Crown Point knows what happened to me last spring, and that it’s connected to what happened last week.”

“There’s my grumpy cat,” Thorne whispers in awe.

I smile. I’ll be damned if someone takes away his ability to play football like someone took away my ability to play hockey.

The football coach leans past Thorne and has the expression of a child on Christmas morning. I smile triumphantly in his direction before the dean steals our attention with his acceptance.

“Oh, thank God.” The football coach jumps to his feet and grips Thorne’s shoulder. “You’re out for one more game, but then, you’re back on the field.”

Thorne nods. I feel the weight lift off his shoulders.

“You better keep this one,” his coach adds, dipping his head in my direction.

Then he walks out of the office, leaving Thorne and I alone with the dean.

Dean Winters sighs and grips his phone, dialing Thorne’s father’s number. We sit in silence as he works his magic, sugar-coating a fabricated excuse as to why he cannot take any funds and force Thorne to transfer schools.

Once he hangs up, I mentally dust my hands off and move to leave.

Thorne stops me. He grips my knee and gently pushes on it. I sit hesitantly and trace the tight edge of his jaw.

What is wrong with him?

“Apologize.”

My eyebrows furrow. He’s staring directly at Dean Winters, and there is no mistaking his irritation.

“Excuse me?” I don’t have to glance at the dean to know he’s appalled.

Thorne slowly turns to make eye contact with me.

My heart slips, and my breath hitches. God, I love him.

“I said,” he reiterates, “apologize.”

He winks at me before glancing back toward the dean.

“To whom?” the dean asks.

“To my girlfriend.” Thorne’s voice is even and poised, but I know he’s burning up on the inside. I open my mouth to tell him that this isn’t necessary but to my surprise, the dean shifts and stares me dead in the face.

“I apologize, Ms. Hart.” He glances away, unable to meet my eye, but an apology is an apology.

“Thank you,” I say.

Thorne stands and holds his hand out for me.

I grab on to it, and he pulls me up to my feet gently.

The dean stops me before we leave his office. I glance at him over my shoulder.

If he takes back his apology…

“You’re an art major, are you not?”

I raise an eyebrow. He knows I am.

“You should consider being a lawyer, Ms. Hart.”

I can’t help it. I smile wider.

When we’re out of the dean’s earshot, Thorne leans in close and whispers, “Do you think he’d know it was you if a mural of his face with a nice set of devil horns on top of his head appeared somewhere on school grounds?”

I laugh, and Thorne catches the tail end of it with his mouth.

My back presses into the wall with gentle force. He takes both of my hands in one of his and traps them above my head while his tongue sweeps inside.

I’m breathless by the end. When our lips part, Thorne stares into my eyes, and it feels like our hearts are beating as one instead of two.

What started out as us working together as a team has ended the same.

He has my back, and I have his.

“I like seeing you happy,” I whisper. “I wasn’t going to let your parents, nor the dean, take away your happiness.”

Thorne’s brow furrows. “The only thing that could take away my happiness is you, kitten.” He shakes his head. “You know that, right?”

A genuine smile slips onto my lips. “Mm-hm,” I press my mouth to his briefly before I pause. “But I kind of like being a jersey chaser.”

Thorne laughs against my mouth. “You know being a jersey chaser means you have to wear my jersey to all my games, right?”

“The horror.”

“You know the best part about wearing my jersey?”

I think for a second, nipping at his mouth. “What?”

Thorne’s free hand roams over my body before falling to the small of my back. He brings me flush against him. “That I get to peel it off you after every game.”

A hot thrill rushes through me. “Maybe we should practice that. Aren’t you the one who said practice makes perfect?”

Thorne’s warm, golden eyes darken. “We can never have too much practice, kitten.” He picks me up and swings me over his shoulder. “I’ve got several jerseys you can borrow.”

My laughter follows us all the way to his bedroom where we stay for the rest of the night.