Chapter 124
Summer's POV
I understood immediately. This was her way of saying you still have me. Of reminding me that I wasn't alone, even if it felt that way.
We sat down. She asked about Juilliard follow-ups, about my SAT prep. I answered on autopilot, my brain still stuck on the image of Kieran standing in the cold, watching my car drive away.
"I talked to Robert Bell today," Mom said, cutting into her lobster with surgical precision.
I looked up.
"He said Drake's case could potentially qualify for extended supervision or a restraining order, but it would require Catherine or Kieran to file formally. Victims have to initiate these processes themselves." She set down her knife. "I've asked him to prepare the paperwork anyway. If they're willing, we can cover the legal fees. All of it."
My throat tightened. "Thank you."
"I'm not doing this for him," she said quietly. "I'm doing it for you. Because I love you, and I can't stand watching you tear yourself apart over something you can't control." She reached across the table and took my hand. "But Summer, you need to understand something. If this goes badly—if his father finds them, if things get violent—you have to promise me you'll walk away. You can't save someone who's drowning if they're pulling you under."
"He's not pulling me under," I whispered.
"Not yet." Her grip tightened. "But he could. And I need you to remember that you have a life too. A future. Dreams that don't involve fixing someone else's nightmare."
I wanted to argue. To tell her that Kieran wasn't a nightmare, that he was worth fighting for, that walking away would destroy me more than staying ever could.
But I just nodded. "I know."
She studied me for a long moment, then sighed and let go of my hand. "Come on. Let's move to the living room. I have something for you."
We settled on the couch by the fireplace. Mom pulled a small Tiffany blue box from the side table and handed it to me. "I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I think you need this now."
Inside was a platinum necklace with a delicate compass pendant. The back was engraved: Find your way home.
"A compass represents direction," Mom said softly. "No matter how far you go, no matter who you love or what happens, you need to remember your own direction. You're Summer Hayes. You have dreams. A future. Loving someone doesn't mean losing yourself."
I couldn't speak. I just held the necklace, feeling its weight in my palm.
"What if he doesn't want me to love him?" The words came out broken. "What if he keeps pushing me away?"
Mom was quiet for a long time. When she finally answered, her voice was gentle. "Then you have to learn to let go. Real love isn't holding on so tight you break. It's giving someone the freedom to choose—even if they choose to leave." She brushed my hair back from my face. "If he's running, you can't chase him forever. All you can do is make sure he knows that when he's ready to stop, there's still a light on for him here."
"What if he never stops running?"
"Then you keep moving forward," she said. "You still have a life to live, Summer. Don't let anyone—even someone you love—become the reason you stop."
I nodded, tears sliding down my cheeks. She pulled me into a hug, and I let myself break down against her shoulder, clutching the compass necklace like it could somehow guide me through this.
When I finally pulled away, she wiped my tears with her thumb. "You're stronger than you think. And whatever happens, I'm here."
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
We sat there for a while longer, the fire crackling softly, the compass pendant resting in my palm. Outside, the February night was cold and clear. Somewhere in South Boston, Kieran was probably still awake, carrying everything alone.
Seven days left.
I looked at my phone. The screen stayed dark.
I fastened the compass necklace around my neck, feeling its weight settle against my collarbone. It was supposed to remind me of my direction, of home, of the life I was supposed to be building for myself.
But all I could think about was him.
And how, no matter what my mother said, I wasn't sure I knew how to let go.