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He couldn’t ignore the deep, aching pulses of envy when whole rows in the audience jumped to their feet, clapping and whistling for graduates. It was support he’d never get to have as his own.
But he was still humming with pride.
It was surreal that he was there at all. He closed his eyes and thought about himself—small and terrified as he was being taken from one foster home to another, warned that if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up in a group home, then tossed out on his ass the second he turned eighteen. Those words had burrowed under his skin, and the fear of dying young and pointless had motivated him.
But there was a piece of him that had never quite believed he could actually reach his goals.
And now, there he was.
The lights were too bright when he walked onto the stage for the ceremony. His hands were shaking, even though he knew the rolled-up bit of paper was blank and that he’d be getting his actual diploma in the mail in six to eight weeks—or whatever the wait time was. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, and his palms were sweaty as he shook hand after hand. His ears were ringing, and he couldn’t see the crowd, so all he could do was grin in the direction he could hear Kelsi and Easton chanting his name.
And then it was over.
Like a flash of lightning across the sky, it was there and then it was gone. He was officially done—for now—and he was no longer important. No longer special.
He just…was.
Oliver wiped sweat off his forehead as he went back to his seat, and he held his breath until the rest of the ceremony was over. There was no cap toss, his pretentious-as-fuck school banning the practice long before Oliver paid his first tuition check, so that was that.
He was finished.
He took a breath as he started to work his way out of the crowd, and seconds after he saw a figure rushing toward him, he found himself losing his balance with an armful of his best friend. Luckily, Easton and his linebacker-sized body managed to keep them upright, and he was grinning down at Oliver while he set his hands on Kelsi’s hips.
“Congrats, man.”
Oliver’s heart was beating almost too fast, and he let Kelsi kiss him all over his face before he got the chance to answer. “Thanks. That was long as fuck.”
Kelsi pulled a face. “Yeah. I’m so not looking forward to next year.”
Oliver stepped out of her embrace and straightened his robe. “Maybe I should change programs for my PhD. Choose one of those super-random, obscure ones at some nothing college with ten people?”
“You’d hate everything about that,” Kelsi told him.
Oliver grinned, but the longer he stood there, the longer it became obvious that this was it. He caught a few of his other friends walking by, shooting him a quick wave, but there was no eleventh-hour miracle with Victor parting the crowd like the Dead Sea and coming to kiss the breath out of him. He’d sent the email, it had gone ignored, and that was his answer.
“Babe?” Kelsi asked.
Oliver realized he’d zoned out, and he swallowed against a burning throat before he cleared it and tried for a smile. “Sorry. Just overwhelmed.”
“Sell me another one,” Kelsi said flatly.
Oliver passed a hand down his face and sighed. “I just…I guess I was hoping more than I let on.”
Kelsi laughed, rolling her eyes as she leaned into her boyfriend’s side. “Yeah, sorry to tell you this, honey, but you were not subtle.”
Oliver’s stomach sank even further. At this rate, he’d have to get a fucking shovel for it. “I don’t know. I guess…I kind of thought he’d…”
“Be pining?”
Oliver froze. Seven months had gone by since he’d last heard that low rumble. Seven months since that soft, careful tone had made him shiver all the way to the core of his being. He was too afraid to look. He was too afraid to breathe.
He glanced at Kelsi, whose eyes were wide, and then at Easton, who was smirking just a little.
Oliver tried to force himself to breathe, but it wasn’t easy. His whole body was trembling like a fall leaf about to break free, and he finally managed to get his feet to obey. He spun in a slow circle, and his heart tried to beat straight out of his chest as he took in Victor with his perfectly cut suit, his hair just so, his lips curved in a gentle smile.
He was leaning hard on his crutches, and he had that same exhausted look about him that Oliver had first seen that night in the parking lot, but there was something else behind it. Something…kinder. Easier. More content than the man coming off a broken engagement.
“You came,” he finally blurted.
