Chapter 133
Kieran's POV
The door opened around noon on Saturday, the sound of the lock turning making my stomach clench with a familiar dread. Mom came in first, her coat buttoned wrong, her hair a mess, her makeup smeared under her eyes where she'd been crying. She wouldn't look at me, her gaze sliding past mine like oil on water. Behind her was Drake, carrying two McDonald's bags and a plastic bag from the corner store, playing the role of provider with the casual confidence of someone who'd rehearsed it.
"Lily!" Drake's voice was too loud, too cheerful, echoing off the thin walls in a way that made my teeth hurt. "I brought you something, sweetheart!"
Lily, who'd been coloring at the table with the crayons I'd bought her last Christmas, looked up. Her face went white, all the color draining from her cheeks like someone had pulled a plug. Then she screamed—a high, terrified sound that cut through the apartment like a siren, the kind of scream that came from somewhere deep and primal where memories lived in the body rather than the mind.
It was a sound I'd heard before, two years ago, when she'd watched the paramedics load me into the ambulance with blood still dripping from the gash in my scalp. She scrambled off her chair and ran to me, wrapping her arms around my legs so tight I could barely move, her whole body shaking with a terror that no amount of therapy had been able to erase.
"Get him out," I said to Mom, my voice flat and emotionless because emotion would only make this harder.
"Kieran, he just wants to say hello—"
"Get. Him. Out."
Drake held up his hands in a gesture of innocence that fooled exactly no one. "Hey, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare her. I just—I brought presents." He reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a cheap stuffed dog and a bag of candy, the kind of generic gifts you grabbed when you were trying to prove something but didn't actually know anything about the person you were buying for. "See? I remembered you like dogs, Lily."
Lily buried her face against my stomach, her tears soaking through my shirt, her whole body convulsing with silent sobs that I could feel vibrating through her ribcage.
I said quietly, keeping my voice level even as fury burned in my chest like acid, "You just grabbed whatever looked kid-friendly at the store."
Drake's smile slipped, the mask cracking at the edges. "I'm trying here—"
"Try somewhere else."
Before he could respond, there were footsteps on the stairs—heavy, deliberate, climbing with the confidence of someone who knew they were welcome. Then Tony appeared in the doorway, holding a six-pack of beer and a pizza box, grinning like this was a party instead of a disaster unfolding in slow motion. His eyes swept the room, taking in Lily's terror and my protective stance, but he pushed forward anyway because Tony had never been good at reading rooms.
"Heard Drake was back!" Tony clapped Drake on the shoulder with false camaraderie, the sound echoing in the small space. "Saw you guys coming up the street from my window—thought we should celebrate. Welcome home, man."
I stared at him, understanding clicking into place. Tony was the kind of guy who talked big about helping people but always had an angle, always saw an opportunity where other people saw tragedy.
"You know what?" Tony said, looking at me with that calculating expression he got when he was about to propose something he thought was clever. "I've been thinking. Drake here needs a job, right? And your mom could use some help with that cart. What if Drake took over the late shift? He could handle the money, do the heavy lifting. And he could pick up Lily from school sometimes, give your mom a break."
"No," I said, the word dropping into the room like a stone into still water.
Tony blinked, clearly not expecting resistance. "What?"
"He's not working the cart. He's not picking up Lily. He's not doing anything that involves this family."
"Kieran—" Mom started, her voice weak and pleading.
"Come on, kid," Tony said, his tone turning condescending in that way adults did when they thought they knew better than you. "Your dad just got out. He's trying to make things right. Don't you think he deserves a chance?"
"No."
"Jesus Christ, you're stubborn." Tony shook his head like I was being unreasonable, like I was the problem in this equation. "Your mom wants this. Don't you think you should respect her decision?"
"My mom," I said slowly, letting each word land with deliberate weight, "makes a lot of bad decisions."
The room went silent, the air suddenly thick with unspoken truths that had been festering for years. Mom's face crumpled, her hand flying to her mouth as though she could somehow take back what she'd heard. Drake's expression darkened, his jaw clenching with that familiar tension that preceded violence. Tony looked between us like he'd just realized he'd walked into something bigger than he'd expected, something he couldn't smooth over with beer and pizza.
"Right," Tony said finally, backing toward the door with his hands up in surrender. "Well. I'll just leave this here." He set the beer and pizza on the counter with exaggerated care, like he was handling explosives. "Drake, let me know if you need anything, yeah?"
He left quickly, his footsteps loud on the stairs as he retreated to the safety of his own apartment. Drake watched him go, his eyes tracking Tony's departure like a predator watching prey escape, then turned back to me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"I'll come back later," he said to Mom, his voice soft and reasonable again, the anger buried under layers of calculated control. "When things are calmer."
"Okay," Mom whispered, her voice so small I almost didn't hear it.
Drake bent down, trying to catch Lily's eye around my legs, his movements slow and deliberate like he was approaching a frightened animal. "Bye, sweetheart. I'll see you soon."
Lily pressed closer to me, her whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm, her fingers digging into my jeans with desperate strength. Drake's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping under his skin, but he straightened up and headed for the door with measured steps that suggested more control than I knew he actually possessed. He paused in the doorway, looking back at me with eyes that held two years of prison resentment and a lifetime of entitlement.
"You can't keep me away forever," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of threat despite the calm tone. "I'm her father. I have rights."
"Try it," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching, letting him see that I wasn't the terrified fifteen-year-old he'd left bleeding on this floor. "See what happens."
Something flickered in his eyes—anger, maybe, or calculation, or the first stirrings of respect for an opponent he hadn't expected to find. Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the stairs in a rhythm that promised return.
The door closed with a soft click that somehow sounded louder than a slam. Lily was still shaking, her breath coming in short gasps against my stomach. Mom stood in the middle of the room, crying silently, her hands covering her face as though she could hide from what had just happened, from the choice she'd made and was still making.
I waited until Lily's breathing slowed, until she loosened her grip on my shirt enough that I could move without pulling away from her. Then I knelt down so we were eye level, my right hand resting awkwardly on her shoulder while my left hand signed.
"Go to your room," I signed, keeping my movements slow and clear. "Put on your headphones. Watch a movie. I need to talk to Mom."
"Is he coming back?" she signed, her hands shaky and uncertain.
"Not today."
"But later?"
I hesitated, weighing the comfort of a lie against the danger of false security. Then I nodded, choosing truth over comfort because she deserved to know what we were facing. "Maybe. But I won't let him hurt you. I promise."