23. Freddie

FREDDIE

NOW – JUNIOR YEAR – MARCH

T he old Jefferson Mine looms before us, its entrance gaping like some ancient beast waiting to swallow us whole. The rusted equipment scattered around looks like fallen soldiers, a graveyard of industry. It reminds me of the tools Dad used to clean at our kitchen table, his hands already shaking back then, though none of us wanted to admit it.

Working with Alex these past few weeks has been... surprisingly good. Yeah, she still treats her color-coding system like it’s a holy relic, and God help me if I mislabel a soil sample, but we’ve found our rhythm again. She’s brilliant when she gets going—fired up about rehabilitation strategies and sustainable practices. Sometimes, I catch myself just watching her, her hands flying as she explains some complex concept, and this odd, tight feeling settles in my chest. I’m not quite ready to figure it out.

We’re here to collect soil samples, to gauge how far contamination has spread. This morning, we worked quickly and efficiently. But now, it’s time for the real fun.

“The soils are in the car?” Alex checks again, her voice a little tight with anticipation.

“Yes. They’re all safe and sound, I promise.”

She nods, her eyes gleaming.

I adjust my backpack, hiding a grin as I feel her excitement building. Somehow, she managed to convince Professor Bam to let us into the main shaft—something about “hands-on visualization for rehabilitation potential.” Honestly, though, I think Bam just recognizes what I do: when Alex believes in something, she’s an unstoppable force.

The air hits me first—damp earth mixed with the sharp tang of oxidized metal, the kind of scent that makes my nose wrinkle instinctively.

“Alright,” Alex announces, her voice dropping into that no-nonsense tone she reserves for when she’s in full project manager mode. “We stick to the plan: main shaft, east tunnel, then out. No detours.” Her expression hardens into all business, her determination as palpable as the stale air around us.

I’m only half-listening, though, because there’s a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign for a second entrance, hanging by a thread, practically begging to be investigated. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s reckless, but something about it calls to me. That’s where the real story is—not in the safe, sanitized route they’ve cleared for students.

“Hey,” I nudge Alex, watching her expression shift from focused to suspicious. It’s kind of cute how she can say “absolutely not” with just her eyebrows. “What do you think’s down there?”

She follows my gaze, her forehead creasing. “Probably collapse risk, toxic gases, or something equally deadly. Hence the sign, genius.”

But I see it—that flicker of curiosity in her eyes. For all her rules and regulations, there’s a part of Alex that wants to color outside the lines. She just needs a little push. And yeah, maybe I shouldn’t be the one doing the pushing, but I’ve never been great at resisting temptation.

“Or,” I say, letting a challenge creep into my voice, “it could be the most interesting part of this whole site. Maybe we’ll see some unique rock formations. Come on, Lexie. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She shoots me a look that’s equal parts exasperation and intrigue. “Buried under a mountain of common sense,” she retorts, but I catch the glint of curiosity in her eyes.

“We’re already trespassing,” I press. “Might as well make it count, right?”

Alex chews her lip, and I try not to stare. “Fine.” She sighs. “But if we die, I’m haunting you for eternity. I mean it, Donovan.”

“Deal,” I grin, ducking under the chain. Like having her around forever would be a punishment.

The tunnel swallows us whole, darkness wrapping around us like a living thing. Our headlamps cut yellow wounds through the gloom, revealing walls that haven’t seen daylight since before either of us was born. Everything glistens with moisture, water dripping somewhere in the darkness like a broken metronome. The air is thick with the ghosts of industry—damp earth and rusted metal, the same smell that used to cling to Dad’s clothes.

As we push deeper, the main shaft splinters into a maze of smaller tunnels. The support beams above us look about as reliable as matchsticks, and something in my gut starts to whisper that maybe this wasn’t my brightest idea.

“This place is creepy as hell,” Alex mutters, and the slight tremor in her voice makes my protective instincts flare.

I’m about to crack a joke when I realize we’ve fucked up. The tunnel branching out ahead of us? It’s not on any of our maps. Shit.

“Uh, Alex?” I try to keep my voice steady, casual. No need to freak her out. “I think we might have taken a scenic route.”

“Scenic route?” Her voice rises an octave, fear bleeding through. “Freddie, please tell me you know where we are.”

“Well, know is a strong word...”

Alex’s breathing goes ragged, her chest heaving like she’s running a marathon. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

I reach for her automatically, but she flinches away. Fuck. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll just backtrack and?—”

“It’s not okay!” The words explode off the tunnel walls, amplified by panic. “We’re lost in a freakin’ mine, Freddie! We could die down here!”

Panic rises in her eyes, and then I remember—she’s claustrophobic. Of all the stupid, thoughtless... shit .

“Alex,” I say softly, stepping closer. “Alex, look at me. We’re going to be fine. I need you to breathe with me.”

She shakes her head, backing up until she hits the wall. Her eyes are wide and unfocused in a way that scared the hell out of me. “I can’t—I can’t breathe. The walls are closing in. Freddie, I?—”

Her gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, everything else fades—the oppressive darkness, the danger, all of it. It’s just us, breathing together under the dim glow of our headlamps. She’s clinging to me like I’m her anchor, and I swallow hard, my throat dry.

“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice low but steady. “You’re doing great. Just keep breathing with me.”

We stand there like that for what feels like hours. Gradually, the frantic look in Alex’s eyes dulls, replaced by exhaustion and a lingering shadow of fear. Without warning, she collapses against my chest, her arms winding around my waist. I freeze for a split second, before instinct takes over. I pull her closer, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other tracing soothing circles on her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into my shirt, her voice rough, raw. “I don’t know what came over me.”

I press my lips to her forehead, without thinking, letting them linger perhaps a second too long. “Don’t apologize. We’re in this together, remember? I’ve got your back.”

She doesn’t pull away immediately, and I try not to read too much into how perfectly she fits against me. When she finally steps back, her cheeks are flushed, eyes still clouded with the remnants of panic.

“Okay,” she says, taking a steadying breath. Her hands smooth down my shirt, where her fingers had been gripping it. “Okay, let’s figure out how to get out of here.”

I have to physically stop myself from pulling her back into my arms. Instead, I focus, forcing my mind to think rationally. “Right. Let’s assess. We’re alive, which is a good start. Our headlamps still work. And we have…” I pat my pockets, trying to ignore the cold, empty space where her body was pressed against mine. “Half a protein bar and a bottle of water. You?”

Alex rummages through her backpack, her movements quick but methodical, still standing close enough that I catch the faint scent of her shampoo—something floral and fresh. “Some trail mix, a first aid kit, and… oh thank God, my water filter straw.”

“Damn, Lexie. Did you pack a portable shower too?” I tease, but I’m a little impressed. Of course she’d be prepared for anything. That’s Alex—always thinking ten steps ahead.

She rolls her eyes but there’s a warmth in her gaze that makes my chest tighten. “Unlike some people, I like to be prepared.”

“Hey, I’m prepared!” I protest, patting my pockets dramatically. “Protein bars and my charming personality. That’s gotten me out of worse situations.”

“Name one,” she challenges, but her hand finds my arm as we carefully navigate around a fallen beam. She doesn’t let go immediately, and the sensation of her touch lingers.

I pull out my phone, cringing at the low battery. Fuck. “Okay, let’s power these down,” I say, forcing confidence into my voice. “Save the batteries for emergencies. The headlamps should be enough.”

Alex nods, powering down her phone with slightly trembling hands. I resist the urge to take them in mine.

“So,” I say, deliberately casual, “on a scale of ‘oops’ to ‘we’re totally screwed,’ where would you rate our current situation?”

“Somewhere between ‘what were we thinking’ and ‘I’m going to kill you when we get out of here,’“ she manages, but her laugh is shaky. Her fingers find my sleeve again, gripping the fabric.

“Hey,” I say softly, covering her hand with mine. “We’ve got this. Operation Don’t Die in a Mine is officially a go.”

“Operation Don’t Die in a Mine?” She repeats, trying to sound sassy. “Real creative, Freddie. Did you come up with that all by yourself?”

I gasp, deliberately hamming it up to keep her distracted. “Ouch. And here I thought I was being clever. How about Project Escape the Hole?”

“Marginally better,” she concedes. There’s a hint of a real smile now, and my heart does a stupid little victory dance. “Though it sounds like a bad reality TV show.”

“Hey, I’d watch that.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Picture it: ‘Two students, one dark mine, zero sense of direction.’ We could make millions.”

She laughs despite herself, the sound echoing off the walls. When she stumbles slightly on some loose rocks, she crashes into my side. I steady her with a hand on her waist, trying to ignore how right it feels to have her this close.

“The romance, the drama, the cave-ins...” I continue.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” I wink.

We start moving again, our headlamps cutting through the darkness. The air is thick with dust.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “if we make it out of here alive, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”

She considers for a moment, unconsciously leaning into me as we navigate a particularly narrow section. “Take the longest, hottest shower of my life. You?”

“Probably join you,” I quip before I can stop myself. Old habits die hard.

She turns, eyebrow raised, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes, even in this dim light. “In your dreams, Donovan.”

“Every night, Ford,” I shoot back with a grin that’s only half-joking.

We continue like this, trading terrible mine puns (“This situation really rocks, huh?”), the banter keeping us both distracted from the darkness pressing in.

Suddenly, Alex stops. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

I strain my ears. There’s a faint sound, barely audible over our breathing. “Is that water?”

“Underground stream.” Alex nods. “It might lead to an exit.”

“Lead the way, Lewis.” I gesture dramatically. “Your Clark awaits.”

The sound of water grows louder, and suddenly we’re in a larger cavern. A small stream cuts through the center, disappearing into a crevice at the far end.

“If we follow it, it might lead us out,” Alex says, excitement creeping into her voice.

We pick our way along the stream, the rocks treacherously slick under our boots. I keep one hand hovering near the small of her back, ready to catch her if she slips. When she does stumble, her fingers dig into my arm, and I pretend the jolt I feel is just adrenaline.

“Careful,” I murmur, steadying her.

And then we see it – a faint glimmer ahead that makes my heart skip.

“Is that...?” Alex breathes, her grip on my arm tightening.

“Either daylight or the afterlife,” I quip, though relief is making me dizzy. “Let’s hope for the former.”

We scramble toward the light, energy renewed. The exit is partially blocked by fallen rocks, but together, we manage to clear enough space to squeeze through.

And then we’re out, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight. The cool mountain air has never tasted so sweet.

Alex turns to me, her face streaked with dirt and absolutely beautiful. “We did it!”

Before I can respond, she launches herself at me in a fierce hug. For a moment, I’m too stunned to move; I thought inside the mine was an exception – we don’t do this anymore, this casual touching, this closeness. But then my arms wrap around her automatically.

“Thanks,” she mumbles into my chest. “For keeping me calm in there. And for the terrible jokes.”

I chuckle, the sound rumbling through both of us. “Anytime. They were mine, all mine .”

She groans, pulling back to swat my arm, but she’s laughing. “That’s it. Back in the mine you go.”

“Nah, you’d miss me too much,” I say, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Because the way she looks at me then, still flushed from our adventure, dirt smudged across one cheek, makes me want to do something stupid. Like brush that dirt away. Like pull her close again. Like kiss her until we both forget why we ever stopped.

Instead, I clear my throat and step back. “We should probably head back. Write up our findings. You know, actual research stuff.”

“Right,” she says, and I must be imagining the hint of disappointment in her voice.

I’m hauling ass across campus, my UMS hoodie doing jack shit against the Colorado wind. March here is like nature’s mood swing – one minute it’s spring, the next it’s trying to freeze your nuts off. Alfie warned me this morning to wear a real coat, but did I listen? No, because I’m a dumbass who thought “it looks sunny” meant “it’s actually warm.”

The air’s so crisp it could snap a frozen twig, which is exactly what my fingers feel like right now. I’m dreaming about the library’s heating system like it’s a tropical paradise when?—

“Freddie! Just the man I wanted to see.”

Fuck me. I know that voice. I turn to see Dr. Reeves striding toward me, his silver hair catching the sunlight like some corporate supervillain’s origin story. Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hell out of him. He’s been in my corner since I switched to environmental science. But right now, all I want is to get inside and thaw my hands before they fall off.

“Dr. Reeves,” I nod.

He claps a hand on my shoulder with the kind of grip that says “you’re not going anywhere, kid.” Students hurry past us, hunched against the cold.

“I’ve got some news you might be interested in,” he says, steering me toward a bench. His tone is the same one Dad used to use when he had a “great investment opportunity” to tell his buddies about. “I’ve put your name forward for an internship at EcoTech.”

I blink, my frozen brain taking a second to process. “You... what?”

Dr. Reeves chuckles like I just told a particularly clever joke. “Don’t look so surprised, my boy. I haven’t forgotten how you helped defuse that protest situation last year.”

Right. That situation. The one that cost me Alex’s trust and probably a piece of my soul. Good times.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” he continues, “and that’s exactly the kind of thinking EcoTech is looking for.”

“That’s... quite an opportunity, sir,” I manage, because what else can I say? Sorry, I’m trying to be less of a corporate sellout these days. Also, the girl I’m in love with would probably never speak to me again.

He leans in close enough that I can smell his coffee breath – it reminds me of my high school math teacher, and I have to refrain from leaning away. “Between you and me, if you keep your grades up, you’ve got a very good shot. It’s a competitive program, of course, but I have a good feeling about you, Freddie.”

His voice drops even lower, as if we’re plotting a heist instead of discussing my future. “You understand how the world really works. I reckon you know how the game gets played.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Do I understand the game? Because lately, it feels like I’m playing Monopoly while everyone else is playing Chess.

“I’ll be in touch with any updates,” he says, standing with military precision. His scarf probably costs more than my monthly rent. “It could be your fast track to the big leagues.”

“Actually, sir,” I say before he can leave, the words tumbling out before I lose my nerve. “I’m curious about the company’s environmental stance. I’ve heard some things…”

Dr. Reeves turns back, his expression softening into something almost paternal. “Ah, you’ve been listening to the news . Let me guess – a certain young woman’s influence?”

I try not to react, but something must show on my face because he chuckles.

“Freddie, let me be frank with you.” He sits back down, gesturing for me to join him. “Yes, mining is messy. Yes, there have been... incidents in the past. But that’s exactly why we need people like you.”

I raise an eyebrow, and he leans forward, his voice shifting into an earnest tone that’s either incredibly genuine or so well-rehearsed it could win him an Oscar.

“The consulting division you’d be joining? They’re the ones fighting for change from the inside. Working on sustainable practices, environmental protection, restoration projects. We can’t shut down every mine in America overnight—the economy would collapse. But we can make them better, safer, cleaner. And still make a profit. It’s a win-win, you see, yes?”

He lets that hang in the air, his words thick with quiet conviction, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile office environment. His eyes meet mine, piercing, waiting for the right reaction.

“You understand the real world, Freddie,” he continues, his tone softening, coaxing. “You know change doesn’t happen through protests and petitions. It happens through people like you, working within the system to reform it.”

“Yes, of course. I understand. Thank you so much for the opportunity, sir, really.”

He stands up again. “Oh, and Freddie?” He pauses, turning back with a knowing smile. “Their starting salary for graduates? Let’s just say it’s highly competitive and impressive .”

Fuck . I could fix everything. Take care of my family. Make Dad proud.

He gives me what I think is supposed to be an encouraging look but comes across more as a “mob boss considering whether to make me an offer I can’t refuse.” Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my slowly freezing extremities.

EcoTech. The company Alex has been raging against in every environmental ethics debate. The corporate giant she calls “everything wrong with modern industry.” And here I am, being offered a golden ticket to join their ranks.

Dad would be thrilled. A stable job, good money, benefits – everything he’s been worried about since he got sick. Megs got her scholarship, but what about after? This might mean she could focus on soccer without worrying about college costs. Mom could finally quit taking extra shifts.

But Alex’s voice echoes in my head: “They’re destroying everything we’re fighting to protect.”

I stare at the spot where Dr. Reeves disappeared.

“Fuck,” I mutter, finally heading toward the library.