Page 63 of Breathe Like Hell

“I didn’t say you didn’t.”

“Well, I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say here,” she snapped. “I don’t know what you’re ever trying to say. You act like you hate me⁠—”

“Dakota.”

“And since I’m fucking failing all my classes, I’m going to lose my scholarship and I can’t⁠—”

“Hey,” I cut her off. “I’ll pay for your school if you need me to. As much school as you want.”

“You can’t do that,” she protested, her chin quivering as her gaze slid timidly back towards mine.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just—why? Why would you do that? It’s my own fault for slacking off with my schoolwork. And it’s expensive.” She didn’t pull away when I held her face, but her expression still twisted like I was hurting her. “And you hate me.”

“Dakota,” I started, bringing her closer. “You know I don’t hate you. My anger isn’t indicative of how this is going to end up. And I would gladly pay for your entire life if you let me. I already told you I wish I could teach you for longer, go farther with you in engineering, so why wouldn’t I want to pay for your school? Money shouldn’t be a thing stopping you here. I want to see you succeed.”

A few more tears slipped down her flushed cheeks. “I wish you weren’t mad at me.”

I wish that too.

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, automatically.

“I’m horrible and fucked up and annoying, Micah. I hurt you.”

My jaw flexed. I didn’t like her saying that.

“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me I haven’t hurt you?”

She was quiet for a beat, like she hadn’t considered that. Or maybe she had.

She was barely keeping herself together, and it’d been this way for weeks. Months, really. I hated seeing it, hated knowing I was making it worse, hated that she’d felt like she needed to keep this from me. But there had to be something at the end to make all of this worth it, and I’d never get there without gaining back some control in my life.

“I’m not going to let you fail your classes,” I continued. “But I’m also not going to let you stress about paying for them if you do. Will you let me help you with this?”

Let me take care of you because I don’t think anyone else knows how.

Mason doesn’t know what you need. He thinks he does.

But he’s fucking wrong.

Her lips pulled down in a frown, and she pressed her hands over her face as she turned away from me, hiding her sadness in her palms.

“You did it without help.”

“Is that what this is about? My degrees?”

“No. But part of it. I wish I could’ve done it without help, like you did. I feel stupid.”

“I was in my eighties in undergrad, and far from broke. Let’s not compare.”

“I’m stupid.”

“Dakota,” I snapped, grabbing her wrists and yanking her hands off her face. Her wide eyes flicked up to meet mine, tears glossing over the green of her irises. “Every time you say that, you insult me. I am fascinated with your mind and obsessed with all your thoughts. I trust your judgment. I chose you for my lab because I believe in you, not only because I want to fuck you. Don’t call yourself stupid unless you want to call me stupid too.”

“Maybe you are stupid, then,” she said, quiet and angry. “There are other people you should’ve chosen instead of me. More qualified. Better grades.”

“Look at me,” I instructed when she tried to turn away. “Look at me and listen to what I’m saying.”