Page 159 of Forever Relentless

“I know enough.”

He stopped again, staring at me like I’d grown another head. “That’s the problem,” he said. “You think you know enough while not knowing enough.”

I leaned back slightly, resting my hands on either side of the couch.

“Nothing was happening,” I said. “You know that.”

“That doesn’t mean we start lighting fires.” He gave me a look of barely concealed frustration. Dante was a leader, and he spoke to me like the captain he was on the football field.

“Not lighting fires. Not big ones. All we did was make people look.”

Dante shook his head slowly. “You don’t make people look by dragging the whole program onto social media, Noah.”

“You do if the people running it care more about reputation than truth.”

He held my gaze for a long moment.

“Savvy and Hadley are never going to stop,” he said. Concern for them both shone in his eyes.

“I’m hoping so. Aren’t you?”

“And when the athletic department decides they need someone to blame?”

“They won’t know it’s us.”

“You sound really confident for someone sitting in a dorm room waiting for the hammer to fall.”

“I need to shower before we do this.” I stood and made my way to my room. “I’ll be five minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I showered as quickly as promised. I resented washing the scent of her off my skin, but sentiment wasn’t going to win me any battles with Dante, and I needed the shower to calm myself and think everything through.

I didn’t regret leaking information on social media. It was working. The platform was buzzing. More comments kept coming from people saying it had happened to them or from others who knew someone else who had gone through the same thing.

There were too many to ignore. I knew it, and I was sure more than the administration of Wrighton U was watching it unfold across the platforms.

My resolve hardened as I quickly got dressed. Dante was pissed, but so was I. My plan was working.

I went out to confront him, but as I walked back into the living area, my phone buzzed in my hand. The sound cut through the room like a whistle.

Dante noticed immediately. “What now?”

I glanced down. The message was from my brother, reminding me I still had his situation to fix. Not that I’d forgotten, but concerned roommates had overtaken my priorities.

Tate: What the heck is happening at your college?

For a second, I didn’t say anything. Dante watched me quietly.

“What now?” he asked again.

“Nothing. It’s, um . . . it’s Tate, my brother.” I turned the phone over in my hand.

He straightened slightly. “What happened?”

“Suspension,” I said, my voice flatter than I intended.

“For what?”