Katie stood in the middle of her dorm room and slowly turned in a full circle, her eyes drifting over the complete disaster she had somehow created over the last several hours.
It looked less like someone preparing to move and more like a grenade had detonated in the middle of the room, scattering every possession she owned into random corners. Jeans hung halfway off the edge of her bed, sweaters were draped over her desk chair, shoes had somehow migrated beneath the radiator, and stacks of textbooks leaned precariously against one another on the floor.
Open dresser drawers yawned toward her like forgotten mouths, their contents spilling over the edges, while an empty suitcase lay on the mattress as though it had been mocking her for hours. She had intended to spend the afternoon packing, and technically she had, but somehow she had managed to make significantly more of a mess than when she had started.
The decision itself had already been made. She was transferring. The paperwork had been submitted, the conversations had been had, and there was no walking it back now.
Michigan was behind her, even if her body hadn't physically left campus yet. She had expected making the decision to bring some sense of relief, some clarity that would allow her to breathe easier, but instead she found herself carrying around an uncomfortable heaviness that refused to leave. It wasn't regret.
She knew she was making the right choice. It was something more difficult to define, a lingering unease that settled somewhere between her chest and stomach every time she thought about packing up the life she had spent the last year trying to build.
She released a slow breath through her nose and wandered around the foot of her bed until she reached the window. Resting her fingertips against the cool frame, she stared outside as thick flakes of snow drifted lazily from the gray sky, continuing to blanket the University of Michigan campus in another fresh layer of white.
Students crossed the courtyard in clusters, bundled beneath scarves and winter jackets, each one trudging carefully through the accumulating snow as they made their way between lecture halls, dormitories, and libraries. The entire campus had taken on that muted quiet that only came after several consecutive snowfalls, where even conversations seemed softer beneath the blanket of winter.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the sun. Days had blurred together beneath the same endless blanket of gray clouds, and she had half-jokingly begun blaming everything on a severe lack of Vitamin D.
The joke had stopped being funny a while ago.
She had noticed herself becoming slower in recent weeks, not physically but mentally. Every task seemed to require twice the effort it normally would have. Getting out of bed felt negotiable most mornings. Showering, eating, answering texts, even deciding what to wear had begun feeling strangely exhausting. Packing should have been simple. She had moved before. She knew how to fold clothes into a suitcase. Yet every time she started, something inside her convinced her she was doing it wrong. She would carefully organize a stack of sweaters, zip half the suitcase closed, stare at it for a minute, then suddenly convince herself there had to be a better way.
Everything would come back out again. Shirts landed on the floor. Socks were thrown across the room. The suitcase emptied as quickly as she'd filled it. Then she'd start over. Again and again.
If it hadn't been for Bianca, Katie suspected she wouldn't have left her room much at all over the last several weeks.
Bianca had become the one gently pulling her back into the world, texting her to grab coffee, dragging her to workouts, insisting they eat somewhere other than the dining hall, convincing her to spend afternoons researching transfer schools instead of lying motionless beneath her comforter with some forgettable television show playing in the background.
Left to her own devices, Katie knew exactly what she would have done. She would have spent most of her days cocooned beneath blankets, half-watching episodes she couldn't remember afterward while the hours disappeared around her. It wasn't that she wanted to stay hidden forever. Everything simply felt heavier than it used to.
She slowly turned away from the window before climbing onto the wide windowsill, tucking one leg beneath herself as she leaned gently against the cold glass. The chill radiated through the back of her sweatshirt almost immediately, grounding her just enough to keep her mind from wandering too far.
From there she surveyed the battlefield that was her room. Clothes surrounded her bed in uneven piles, some folded neatly, others thrown carelessly wherever they'd landed after another abandoned attempt at organizing them. The empty suitcase remained planted squarely in the middle of the mattress, waiting patiently for her to commit to literally anything.
"I don't understand why you're so hard," she muttered quietly to the suitcase, shaking her head at herself almost immediately.
It wasn't really the suitcase. It wasn't even the packing.
She knew that.
Every shirt she folded represented leaving something behind. Every drawer she emptied made the transfer feel more permanent. She had convinced herself that leaving Michigan would feel freeing after everything that had happened here, after everything she'd been forced to process, but permanence had a strange way of making even the right decisions feel intimidating.
The buzzing of her phone interrupted the silence.
Katie frowned slightly before glancing toward the bed. The vibration continued beneath one of her blouses, causing the fabric to shift subtly with each buzz. She sighed, pushed herself off the windowsill, and crossed the room, digging through the pile until her fingers wrapped around the familiar shape of her phone.
Bianca.
Katie unlocked the screen.
Still meeting to look at apartments?
Katie stared at the message longer than necessary.
Then she read it again.
She wasn't avoiding the question. She simply appreciated that Bianca kept giving her reasons to keep moving forward instead of standing still. Apartment hunting. New schools. New routines. New beginnings.
It all felt impossibly far away and painfully close at the same time.
Her thumbs finally moved across the keyboard.
Yeah. I'll be there.
She hit send almost immediately, not allowing herself time to overthink it.
The phone landed softly back onto the bed beside the abandoned suitcase. Katie remained standing there for another long moment, her eyes drifting aimlessly across the chaos surrounding her. Nothing had changed in the room. The clothes were still scattered everywhere. The suitcase remained empty. The snow continued falling outside the window.
She drew another slow breath.
Then another.
Eventually she'd start packing again.
***
Bianca sat alone at a small corner table inside the coffee shop, her laptop open in front of her while the steady hum of conversation and the hiss of steaming milk blended into a familiar background rhythm.
Snow continued to drift lazily past the large front windows, coating the sidewalks outside in another fresh layer of white, while students hurried by with their heads tucked beneath scarves and hoods. Her screen was cluttered with tabs comparing airport options within driving distance of Auburn University.
Atlanta, Birmingham, Montgomery - each had its own advantages, each had different ticket prices and travel times that she was trying to balance.
If she and Katie were really going to Alabama, they needed to start thinking beyond simply transferring schools. They needed to think about holidays, trips home, track meets across the country, and how practical it would be to fly back to Pittsburgh and Denver whenever they wanted. It wasn't the glamorous part of starting over, but it was necessary.
As usual, Katie wasn't there yet.
Bianca glanced toward the front door before checking the time on the corner of her laptop. She wasn't annoyed. If anything, she'd begun expecting it.
Somewhere over the last several months she had quietly slipped into the role of keeping Katie moving. She was the one sending reminder texts before appointments, the one making sure they actually left their dorm when they had plans, the one who called if Katie hadn't answered in a while.
Katie always thanked her. She always seemed genuinely appreciative whenever Bianca nudged her back on schedule. Still, Bianca couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper lingered beneath the surface than simple absentmindedness.
Since everything Katie had confided in her, she had become noticeably quieter, slower, more withdrawn whenever she was left to her own thoughts.
Bianca had done everything she knew how to do. She had offered - more than once - to walk with Katie to Michigan's counseling and social services department if talking to a professional felt too intimidating alone.
She had gently suggested that maybe going to the authorities was the right thing to do, reminding Katie that none of what had happened had been her fault and that she didn't have to carry it alone. Every conversation had followed roughly the same pattern. Katie would listen. She would nod. Sometimes she'd even admit Bianca was probably right.
Then she would hesitate, retreat into herself, and quietly change the subject. Apprehensive at best. Completely avoidant at worst. Eventually Bianca had learned that constantly pushing only caused Katie to pull further away. Sometimes the best thing she could offer was simply consistency - showing up, inviting her out, and making sure she never had to wonder whether someone was in her corner.
She sighed softly and clicked onto another apartment listing instead. Auburn's housing market looked dramatically different from Ann Arbor's, and the prices certainly reflected that. Bianca's eyebrows lifted slightly as another monthly rent appeared on the screen.
"Seriously?" she muttered beneath her breath.
She leaned closer, double-checking that she hadn't accidentally clicked on an entire townhouse instead of a modest apartment. She hadn't. Apparently living near campus came with a premium almost everywhere. She found herself mentally calculating budgets, scholarship money, and what her parents would inevitably say about spending that much every month. None of it was impossible, but it certainly wasn't as straightforward as she'd hoped.
Her phone buzzed across the tabletop.
She glanced over absentmindedly before freezing.
Zane.
For just a fraction of a second, something fluttered lightly inside her chest. She deliberately ignored it.
Picking up the phone, she answered before she could overthink why he was calling.
"Hello?"
She immediately heard him laugh quietly on the other end.
"Auburn, huh?"
Bianca couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from lifting.
"So," she replied, leaning back into her chair, "is that going to be a problem with us going to rival schools?"
There was a thoughtful pause before Zane answered.
"It shouldn't be. As long as you don't mind going to a losing school."
Bianca snorted before shaking her head.
"Oh, that's funny," she replied. "Last I heard, Roll Tide hadn't rolled in quite a long time."
On the other end of the line, Zane let out an exaggerated, sarcastic laugh.
"The Tide's back," he declared confidently. "Clearly you didn't get the memo."
Bianca laughed again, surprising herself with how effortless it felt. It reminded her of conversations they'd had years ago, before everything had become complicated, before every interaction carried emotional baggage that neither of them quite knew how to unpack.
"I'll believe it when I see it," she teased.
"You will," he answered without hesitation.
There was another comfortable pause before his tone softened just enough for her to notice.
"I actually just wanted to congratulate you," he said. "I heard you signed with Auburn. That's really awesome."
The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.
"Thank you," she replied quietly.
"I figured," he continued, "since Alabama and Auburn are so close together that maybe we'll end up running in some of the same circles."
Bianca found herself staring out the coffee shop window at the falling snow instead of the laptop in front of her. The thought hadn't really settled in until he'd said it aloud. They wouldn't just be in the same conference. They'd be less than two hours apart. Football weekends. Track meets. Charity events. SEC functions. The odds of them never crossing paths again had practically disappeared overnight.
She let the silence linger for a second before answering.
"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other."
She heard him exhale softly, almost as though that answer had relieved something he hadn't admitted he was carrying.
"I hope so."
Another brief silence settled between them, neither seeming particularly eager to end the conversation, though neither quite knew where to take it next.
Finally, Zane cleared his throat.
"Well anyways, I just wanted to say congratulations."
"Thanks, Zane."
"Take care of yourself."
"You too."
The call ended.
Bianca lowered the phone onto the table and looked at the now-dark screen for another few seconds before setting it beside her laptop. She returned her attention to the apartment listings, clicking through another page of rentals near Auburn's campus. The numbers hadn't changed. The airport options still needed comparing. Katie still hadn't arrived.
She smiled to herself without quite realizing it and continued scrolling.
***
The drive back from Pittsburgh International Airport had been almost completely silent. Rasheed had left the radio off, the heater humming softly against the cold that seeped through the windows while gray winter skies hung low over the city.
Traffic moved steadily enough, never quite stopping but never allowing him to settle into a rhythm either. Every red light seemed to last a little longer than it should have, every line of cars stretching farther than he remembered.
His hands rested loosely on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, though his thoughts had drifted so far away that he couldn't have recalled half the streets he had driven down if someone had asked.
He was filled with emotions he couldn't quite separate from one another.
Pride. Regret. Grief. Uncertainty. They all lived in the same place now, tangled together until he could no longer tell where one ended and the next began. Ever since walking out of prison, life had refused to slow down long enough for him to process any of it. One problem had simply bled into the next.
He had been on the brink of getting out from between those prison walls when Felix had been murdered. Then came Mary's stroke. Then her funeral. Then trying - however awkwardly - to build some semblance of a relationship with the son he had barely been around long enough to know.
He let out a slow breath through his nose.
His father was gone. Now his mother had gone to join him.
The thought still didn't feel real.
For all the years Rasheed had spent convincing himself he didn't need anybody, there had always been the quiet certainty that if everything else fell apart, Mom and Dad would still be there. Disappointed, maybe. Angry, undoubtedly.
But there.
That certainty had vanished in the span of a few months, leaving behind a silence that followed him everywhere he went.
His grip tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
Then there was Zane.
His son was on the verge of achieving something Rasheed couldn't have even imagined when he was that age. Alabama. Millions of dollars in NIL money. National television. NFL scouts already circling. The entire country seemed to know who Zane Jones was becoming.
The funny thing was, Rasheed wasn't even intimidated by the money.
He was intimidated by everything that came with it.
He didn't know how to help someone navigate fame. He didn't know how to teach a kid to become a millionaire responsibly when he had spent half his own life trying to survive week to week.
Hell, he barely understood how to navigate Pittsburgh, and he'd lived there his entire life. The streets had changed. The faces had changed. The rules had changed. Every neighborhood carried ghosts of people he'd known or buried.
He chuckled humorlessly to himself.
Some people still believed he had no right breathing fresh air after what he'd done all those years ago.
Maybe they were right.
He had convinced himself prison had paid his debt, but stepping back into the city reminded him quickly that some debts never stopped collecting interest. There were families that still hated him. Men who still wanted revenge. Youngsters who knew his name without ever having met him. And then there was what he'd done after getting out - tracking down Felix's killer and putting him in the ground.
He had proven every one of those people right. Maybe prison hadn't changed him nearly as much as he'd hoped.
The traffic light ahead turned green, pulling him back into the present. Rasheed eased forward with the line of cars, his mind quieter now, replaced by a different question altogether.
What was his life supposed to be about now?
For decades every decision had been made for him by circumstance. Survival. Prison politics. Loyalty. Violence. Revenge. Even avenging Felix had given him purpose, twisted as it had been.
Now what?
Could he actually live as a civilian?
Could he wake up every morning without wondering who wanted him dead?
Could he ever dream again?
The questions lingered without answers.
By the time he reached Upper St. Clair, the familiar neighborhoods had grown quieter beneath the afternoon sky. Snow covered manicured lawns and rooftops alike, softening everything beneath its white blanket. Children who normally would have been outside were nowhere to be seen. Even the streets looked tired.
Rasheed turned onto the road leading toward his parents' house and slowed as it came into view.
His house.
The realization hit him unexpectedly.
Not his parents'. His.
He hadn't spent meaningful time there since he was about Zane's age. Once he had fallen into the streets, home had slowly become somewhere he occasionally visited instead of somewhere he belonged. Mary and Felix had filled it with enough warmth that it never stopped feeling alive.
He eased into the driveway and shifted the truck into park. Before reaching for the keys, something caught his attention.
There was someone sitting on the front stoop. Rasheed narrowed his eyes.
Cam.
Even from the truck he could tell something was wrong.
The kid sat hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the snow-covered yard. A bottle of liquor dangled loosely from one hand, most of its contents already gone. His hoodie hung off him awkwardly, and his shoulders looked heavier than they had any right to on someone his age. He wasn't fidgeting. He wasn't checking his phone.
He was just sitting.
Waiting.
Rasheed studied him through the windshield for several seconds.
He'd seen that posture before. Namely, on inmates who had already decided the next bad thing was inevitable and were simply waiting for it to arrive.
Rasheed slowly exhaled through his nose.
"Another mess to clean up," he muttered to himself.
He killed the engine. The sudden silence settled over the truck immediately.
Opening the driver's door, the cold Upper St. Clair air rushed over him as his boots crunched against the snow-covered driveway. He closed the door behind him and began walking toward the front steps without rushing. Cam finally looked up at the sound, his bloodshot eyes finding Rasheed.
Neither of them spoke.
They simply stared at one another across the snow-covered yard, one man carrying decades of violence on his shoulders, the other looking like he had just realized his own life was beginning to unravel.
Rasheed already knew this conversation wasn't going to be simple.