Calder leans against the office window, sleeves rolled and eyes shadowed, staring through the glass as students drift by below—just color and movement, smeared by the fatigue in his mind. His shirt clings at the collar, sweat from stress rather than heat. He runs a trembling hand through his hair, trying not to notice how hollow he looks in the reflection. In his pocket, the anonymous note burns. He can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t stop replaying the mess he’s already made. He barely notices the gym door creak open behind him.

Havyn stands in the doorway, arms crossed in her navy track jacket, black leggings hugging lean, muscular legs. Her face is stark in the dim fluorescent light—sharp cheekbones, stormy eyes guarded but restless. She watches him for a moment longer than she should, jaw set. “You look like hell,” she says, but her voice is gentler than her words. It’s the first time she’s lingered, not just passing by on the periphery. Calder tries to smile, but it comes out thin, only deepening the lines around his mouth. “Rough night,” he manages.

She doesn’t move, and he wonders if she’s waiting for him to ask for help. Instead, Havyn steps further in, sitting beside him on the edge of an empty bench, knees brushing. The contact sends a subtle jolt through him. Her hands, callused and scarred from old wounds, rest open on her thighs. “You ever just want to disappear for a while?” she says, voice low, careful. Calder risks a glance at her face—there’s something fractured in her gaze, a glimmer of vulnerability buried beneath steel. He nods, and their shared silence thickens, wordless confessions hovering in the gaps.

Later, they wander to the pool, water cool and glassy beneath the faint blue glow. Havyn sheds her shoes, sits at the edge, and lets her feet dangle in. She tugs her hair loose, dark strands tumbling over her shoulders—a shield, or maybe an invitation. Calder hesitates, then sits beside her, jeans cuffed above his ankles, toes swirling next to hers. Their shoulders touch; the contact is accidental, but neither pulls away. He can smell the faint tang of sweat and shampoo, the kind of intimacy that feels dangerous.

He breaks first. “When I was a social worker, I thought I could save everyone,” he murmurs, voice nearly swallowed by the echo of water. Havyn glances over, her eyes softening. “Did you?” she asks. He shakes his head, shame flickering. “Not even close.” For a moment, neither speaks. She reaches out, her hand hovering above his bruised knuckles. “How did you get these?” she asks quietly. He shrugs, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers. “Lost my temper. I’m not proud.”

With surprising care, Havyn pulls a roll of gauze from her track jacket pocket and tears off a strip. She wraps his knuckles slowly, fingertips barely brushing his skin—a feather-light touch that makes his breath catch. Her hands are steady, but her pulse hammers visibly in her throat. He watches her, memorizing the way her lashes fan against her cheek as she works. Her thumb traces the curve of his wrist, lingering just a second too long.

“Thank you,” he whispers, not meaning just the bandage. Their faces are close—his breath stirs the hair at her temple. Havyn hesitates, then leans just slightly into his space. The longing between them is tangible, thick as honey in the air. “You don’t have to fix everyone,” she says softly, almost pleading. For the barest instant, Calder wants to believe her. He wants her to break him open.

A noise snaps them apart—the echo of teenage voices, footsteps along the hallway. Calder jerks his hand away, guilt and longing tangled beneath his skin. Havyn stiffens, mask sliding back into place, but the hurt in her eyes lingers. She grabs her shoes, stands, and brushes past him, fingers brushing his shoulder—a touch that says what words can’t. “Take care of yourself, Calder.”

He’s left alone beside the pool, knuckles bandaged, heart battered and burning. As he rises to leave, he finds a folded slip of paper wedged in his shoe. A line, scribbled in jagged script: I know who you’re protecting.

To be continued...