Chapter 2 Breaking Free from the Savior

Livy's POV

"Livy!" Mom's voice came from downstairs, and hearing it made my throat close up. "Gray's here!"

I sat there frozen, staring at my eighteen-year-old hands.

I died. Somehow I came back.

And Gray Reed was downstairs right now, waiting for me.

I walked down the stairs.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked into the dining area of La Estrella. There he was, sitting in the corner booth, twenty-five years old with that easy smile.

Gray had a plate of huevos rancheros in front of him, steam still rising from the eggs. Free breakfast, like always. Mom never charged him. "He saved your life, mija," she'd say whenever I suggested maybe he could pay like everyone else. "The least we can do is feed him."

Saved my life. Right.

I was eight years old when it happened, playing too close to the river during spring flooding. The current pulled me in and I went under, swallowing muddy water, my lungs screaming. Then someone grabbed my arm and dragged me to shore. Gray was fourteen, big enough to fight the current, strong enough to save me.

For ten years, everyone in Riverton had reminded me of that story at church, at school, in this very restaurant. Gray Reed saved little Livy Martinez. What a hero. What a good boy. And I'd believed it. For thirty years I believed it.

"Morning, Livy." Gray looked up and smiled, setting down his fork. "I looked over your application materials. You did a great job with the personal statement, but I have a few suggestions that could really make it stronger—"

"No."

The word came out harder than I meant it to. Gray blinked.

"What?"

I walked to his table and held out my hand. "Give me my materials back."

His smile faltered. "Livy, I'm just trying to help you—"

"I know, and I appreciate it. But I need them back. Now."

Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face went from confused to annoyed in about two seconds. "Livy, what's wrong with you? Gray is helping you."

"I know, Mom, but this is my college application." I didn't look away from Gray. "My future. I should be handling it myself."

"You're being rude." Mom's voice had that edge to it.

"Mom, I'm eighteen years old, not eight." I kept my hand extended toward Gray. "I need to learn to do this on my own."

Gray's expression shifted and he looked hurt now. In the old timeline, my old life, that look would've destroyed me. I would've apologized, handed over control, let him do whatever he wanted. But I'd seen the letters in that lockbox. I knew exactly what "helping me" actually meant.

"I understand." Gray reached into his backpack slowly, like he was trying to give me time to change my mind. "You want to be independent. That's good, Livy. You should be independent."

He pulled out a folder and set it on the table. I grabbed it and flipped it open right there, checking everything. Personal statement draft was there, activities list was there, notes for recommendation letters were there.

"Thank you," I said.

"Livy." Mom's voice was sharp. "Apologize to Gray."

"For what?" I looked at her. "For wanting to handle my own college application?"

"For being ungrateful!"

"Maria, it's okay." Gray stood up, "Livy's right. She should take ownership of her future. I respect that."

He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, watching me over the rim. "But if you change your mind, I'm always here. You know I'll always help you, Livy. Whatever you need."

Something in his voice made my skin crawl. Whatever you need. Like he was doing me some huge favor, like I should be grateful.

"I know," I said. "But I won't change my mind."

I turned and headed back upstairs before Mom could say anything else. Behind me, I heard her apologizing to Gray, her voice full of embarrassment. "I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She's never been like this."

"It's fine," Gray said. "She's growing up. It's natural."

But there was something else in his tone, something tight and worried.

Good. Let him worry.

I locked my bedroom door and dumped the folder onto my bed. For a long moment I just stared at it, my heart pounding.

In my old life, I'd handed these materials to Gray without a second thought. He'd photocopied everything, given it all to Elysia Hunt, and then come back to me with a sad smile. "I looked over your application, and honestly, Livy, I don't think you're competitive enough for Stanford. Maybe you should consider community college first."

I'd cried for days. And he'd held me and told me it was okay, that college wasn't everything, that I could still have a good life right here in Riverton.

You lying piece of shit.

I grabbed my backpack and pulled out the portable scanner I'd bought yesterday at the electronics store two towns over.

One by one, I scanned every page: personal statement, activities list, transcript, everything. When I was done, I had digital copies of my entire application.

I put the files on a floppy disk and hid it in the space behind my bookshelf, then pulled out another floppy disk with an identical copy. Tomorrow I'd stop by the library and save the files on one of their computers. And tonight I'd create a new Hotmail account and email everything to myself.

Three copies in three different locations. No way for Gray to get to all of them.

The physical documents went into a small lockbox. I set a new combination using my father's birthday, something Mom wouldn't guess, and shoved the box under my bed.

Last time I was too trusting, not this time.

September 10th. Four days since I'd taken back my materials.

Gray showed up at the restaurant again that evening, right as we were closing. I was wiping down tables when I heard the bell over the door chime.

"Hey, Livy."