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“Thanks, brother, yeah,” I say. “We can walk.”

* * *

I’m sitting at the kitchen counter with my laptop open and a coffee going cold beside it, waiting for the A&P results to come in.

The university portal says RESULTS PENDING.

I refresh.

Still pending.

I know I’ve done everything I can. I went to the sessions, completed the coursework and took the retake without leaving half the booklet blank. It shouldn’t feel this close.

It does.

The past month has been LA, Mabel, the Apex deal and losing Bea. I studied whenever I could, but there were nights when anatomy notes sat unopened while I dealt with contracts or hospital calls. I walked out of Hartley believing I might have passed.

Might is doing some heavy lifting.

At six fifty-seven, I refresh again.

Nothing.

At seven, the portal crashes.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

I reload it. The page stays blank, then throws me back to the login screen.

By the time I get in again, my palms are damp, and my knee is bouncing beneath the counter.

ACADEMIC RESULTS AVAILABLE.

I click.

The page takes several seconds to load.

Anatomy and Physiology appears first.

I find the final grade.

Then check it again because my brain refuses to accept the word beside it.

PASS.

A laugh breaks out of me. Sharp and slightly unhinged.

“Fuck.”

I lean closer to the screen.

Not scraped through by a technicality either. Not perfect, but comfortably clear of the line.

I passed.

I actually fucking passed.

I passed.