The Heart System

Chapter 297: Chapter 297

Sunlight poured through the windshield as we drove. The sky was clear now, no clouds, no snow. The wind had slowed to a gentle breeze. Everything felt lighter. Kim was safe. Carrie was handled. Tom was out of the picture. For the first time all day, my shoulders relaxed.

I didn’t even realize I was smiling until Cora turned toward me.

”W-what?” she asked. ”Why are you smiling like that? Is it my face? Do I have something on my face?”

I smiled again. ”Nope. You’re perfect, Cora.”

Her ears turned red instantly. ”Oh... heh-heh. Thanks.”

We kept driving, the engine humming steady beneath us.

After a minute of comfortable silence, Cora spoke up, a little hesitant. ”Do you listen to much music when you drive?”

”Depends on the day,” I said. ”Today feels like a music day.”

She nodded. ”Have you heard Glass Static by Moonline Echo?”

I glanced at her. ”Can’t say I have.”

Her eyes lit up just a bit. ”It’s... soft. A little sad, but warm. Like rainy streets and coffee shops that stay open too late.”

”That’s oddly specific,” I smiled. ”I like it already.”

”There’s another one,” she continued, more confident now. ”Paper Skies by Hollow North. That one’s calmer. I listen to it when my head won’t shut up.”

I chuckled. ”Sounds like something I should’ve discovered years ago.”

”I can send you a playlist,” she said quickly, then added, ”If you want. You don’t have to listen to it or anything.”

”I want,” I said. ”Surprise me.”

She relaxed into her seat, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. ”What about you?”

”Old habit,” I replied. ”I stick to the same albums for years. There’s one called Low Signal Hearts. Not popular. Just... grounding.”

She smiled faintly. ”That sounds nice.”

Outside, the city looked different than it had this morning. The sky was clear blue now, sunlight washing over buildings and sidewalks. Patches of snow melted along the curbs, water glinting where it ran off into drains. Every now and then, a gust of wind swept down the street, rustling bare branches and making fallen leaves skitter across the asphalt.

”The weather finally decided to behave,” Cora said, watching the clouds thin out. ”Feels lighter.”

”Yeah,” I said. ”Like the day’s finally exhaling.”

We drove a few more minutes before the campus came into view.

”Ravenport Collegiate,” I read aloud as we approached the entrance.

The place was huge. Old brick buildings mixed with newer glass ones, banners hanging from lampposts, students walking in clusters with backpacks slung over their shoulders. Across the street were cafés, a small bookstore, and a sandwich place with a hand-painted sign. Everything looked busy but calm, the kind of organized chaos that only campuses ever had.

I slowed down, scanning for a parking spot. Nothing. I drove another stretch. Still nothing.

”Of course,” I muttered. ”Everyone decided to show up early.”

I looped around once more, about to give up, when a sedan ahead of us blinked its signal and pulled out.

”Oh,” Cora said softly.

”Don’t jinx it,” I murmured, already easing the car in.

I lined it up, reversed smoothly, adjusted once, then slid perfectly into the space.

The moment I put the car in park, Cora clapped her hands twice, quick and excited. ”Wow. Parallel parking.”

I smirked. ”Please. I didn’t even break a sweat.”

She laughed, a real one this time, light and unguarded.

We got out of the car together, the breeze cool but gentle, sunlight warm on our faces. I locked the doors and glanced at the campus ahead.

”Ready?” I asked.

She nodded. ”Yeah. Let’s go.”

I slowed to a stop and looked up at the building.

Yeah. That was it. Or what used to be it.

My old college.

The facade was newer now, clean stone and reinforced glass replacing what had once been blackened concrete and twisted frames. The fire had taken half of it years ago, eaten through lecture halls and offices, but no one had died. I remembered the sirens, the smoke rolling into the sky, the way everyone stood outside in shock. They rebuilt it within a year, smarter this time, safer, and slapped a new name on it like that would erase the past.

But some things don’t erase.

I started walking toward the gates with Cora beside me.

There was a security booth near the entrance, not aggressive, just present. Two guards in navy jackets stood by waist-high turnstiles, checking IDs while students streamed in and out. A few parents hovered nearby, awkward, holding folders and coffee cups.

The guard looked at us. ”Family meeting?”

”Yes,” she said.

He turned to me. ”You?”

”Guest,” I replied. ”With her.”

The guard looked me over for a second, then gestured to a clipboard. ”Name and signature.”

I scribbled it down, so as Cora, and he waved us through.

Inside, the campus opened up.

Paths branched off in every direction, brick walkways lined with trees just starting to bud. Students sat on the grass despite the lingering chill, laptops open, music playing softly from someone’s speaker. I recognized the library immediately, same wide steps, same tall windows. The humanities wing, though, looked different. That had been part of the burned section. New walls, new design, no memory of what used to be there unless you knew where to look.

The courtyard, though, was the same.

Same fountain in the center. Same benches. Same uneven stones underfoot.

And on one of those benches, slouched like she had no bones at all, was Esme.

Her head was tipped back, mouth open, arms crossed loosely over her stomach. Fully asleep. In public. No shame.

Cora stopped short. ”You have got to be kidding me.”

We walked over. Cora grabbed Esme’s shoulder and shook her.

”Esme.”

Nothing.

She shook her harder. ”Esme, wake up.”

Esme groaned, eyes cracking open. ”Mmm... five more minutes...”

”We’re here for the family meeting,” Cora said flatly.

”That was yesterday,” Esme muttered, eyes closing again. ”Please let me go.”

I blinked. ”Wait. We’re late?”

”No,” Cora said immediately. ”I know her. She’s lying. Get up, Esme.”

Esme sighed like the weight of the world had just been dropped on her chest, then forced herself upright. ”Fiiine. The meeting hasn’t even started yet. How about you two just—oh.” She squinted at me. ”Oh. Hi, Evan.”

”Oh. Hi, Esme,” I said, smiling despite myself.

”Come on,” Cora said. ”Let’s go inside.”

Esme stood and stretched, arms over her head, yawning hard. Her oversized t-shirt rode up dangerously far.

Before I could even think about it, I reached out and tugged the hem down.

A couple of guys nearby stared.

”Jesus fucking Christ, Esme,” I muttered. ”Be careful.”

Cora rubbed her temples. ”This girl. We are buying you new clothes today.”

”Let’s buy them online,” Esme said immediately.

”If you stop being such a lazy slop,” Cora replied, already walking, ”we’ll buy online.”

”Yay,” Esme said, shuffling after us.

I glanced once more around the courtyard as we headed inside. Some things had changed. Some hadn’t. And standing there, with the noise of students and the warmth of the sun creeping back into the air, it felt strangely calm.

Like the day was finally letting me breathe.

❤︎❤︎❤︎

We were in the gym salon now, seated high up on the bleachers.

I leaned back and looked around, quietly impressed. Damn. The place was huge. Way bigger than I remembered. Back when I studied here, this was just a multipurpose hall with scuffed floors and retractable hoops. No proper volleyball arena, no tiered seating like this. Guess the fire did some good after all. They rebuilt it smarter, cleaner, and a hell of a lot more ambitious.

The court below was polished to a shine, light wood with bold lines marking the boundaries. Nets were already up, stretched tight. Massive banners hung from the walls, blue and white, the college’s new name printed in sharp lettering. Spotlights ran along the ceiling beams, casting even light across the arena. Everything smelled faintly of varnish and fresh paint, mixed with popcorn and cheap coffee from somewhere behind us.

Cora sat on my left, posture straight, hands folded in her lap. Esme was on my right.

The seats were packed. Parents, siblings, grandparents, all squeezed shoulder to shoulder, chatting loudly, laughing, waving at players warming up below. The hum of voices filled the space, bouncing off the high ceiling.

Esme’s head slowly tipped sideways and landed against my shoulder.

I glanced down at her. Out cold.

”Sheesh,” I muttered under my breath, keeping my voice low. ”Is she always this sleepy?”

Cora sighed, rubbing her forehead. ”Unfortunately, yeah. I thought something was wrong with her at first. Took her to the hospital and everything.”

I raised an eyebrow. ”And?”

”Doctors ran tests. Bloodwork. Scans.” She shook her head. ”Couldn’t find a single thing. Straight-up told me she was just lazy.”

I snorted. ”And then they slapped you with a massive bill, right?”

”Yes,” Cora said flatly. ”Thirty-two thousand dollars.”

”Damn.”

”America,” she added dryly.