Chapter 121
Summer's POV
I couldn't finish the donut.
The strawberry frosting sat there, pink and cheerful and completely wrong, while Kieran stood at the counter ordering Lily to drink faster, his voice flat in that way that meant he was barely holding something back. She hunched over her hot chocolate like she was trying to disappear, and I wanted to scream at him to stop being so harsh with her, except I knew—God, I knew now—that he wasn't being harsh. He was being careful. He was counting every second we stayed here like it was money he couldn't afford to spend.
"We need to go soon," he said, not looking at me, and Lily's face fell.
"But I wanted to talk to Summer more," she protested, her voice small. She glanced at me with those big brown eyes, the same ones that had told me about blood on the floor and a little girl holding a paper with words she'd memorized because her fifteen-year-old brother thought he might not be conscious enough to call for help himself.
My throat closed up.
"You've talked enough," Kieran said, and the edge in his voice made Lily flinch.
I looked at him, really looked, and he was already gathering Lily's things, shoving her workbook into her backpack with his left hand while his right hung useless at his side. He moved like he was on a timer, like staying here one more minute was a risk he couldn't take, and I suddenly understood what I was to him right now. Not a person he wanted to see. A variable he needed to control.
"Kieran," I said, and my voice came out wrong, too soft, too breakable.
He didn't look at me. "We have things to do."
"It's okay," I said quickly, trying to smile at Lily even though my face felt like it was cracking. "You should go. I'll see you at school."
Lily perked up a little. "Will you sit with us at lunch?"
"Lily." Kieran's voice was a warning now, sharp enough that she went still. He crouched down to zip her jacket, his movements efficient and detached, and I saw it then—the way he was building walls in real time, brick by brick, shutting me out. "Remember what I told you. You can't tell people about home. About Dad. About any of it."
She nodded, solemn, and I felt something twist in my chest because he wasn't just telling her. He was telling me. He was making sure I knew that whatever Lily had said, whatever I'd learned, it didn't give me the right to ask questions. It didn't make me part of this.
He stood up, took Lily's hand, and finally, finally looked at me. His eyes were gray and cold and so, so tired. "Thanks for keeping her company."
That was it. That was all I got. Thanks for keeping her company, like I was some stranger who'd watched his sister for ten minutes at a bus stop.
"Kieran—" I started, but he was already turning toward the door, pulling Lily with him.
I grabbed my coat and followed them outside. The wind hit me like a slap, sharp and bitter, and I didn't care. I caught up to them on the sidewalk, my breath coming out in white clouds, and I said the stupidest thing I could have said.
"If you need help—"
"I don't."
The words were ice. Kieran stopped walking, and Lily looked up at him, confused, but he didn't let go of her hand. He didn't even turn to face me fully, just angled his body enough that I could see the hard line of his jaw, the way his shoulders were locked up tight.
"I just—" My fingers twisted in the hem of my coat. "I only wanted to—"
"Summer." He did look at me then, and it was worse than if he'd kept walking. His eyes were empty, like he'd packed up everything he'd ever felt for me and buried it somewhere I'd never find it. "I know what you want to do. But don't. We're not—" He stopped, swallowed. "We're not that close."
The words hit me like a fist to the sternum. Not that close. Not that close, when I'd spent two weeks in New York thinking about him every spare second, when I'd sent him messages about my day and my doubts and my stupid, hopeful plans for us to end up in the same city. Not that close, when he'd stood in the rain and told me he wanted to be where I was.
"You're lying," I said, and my voice cracked, but I didn't care. "You're lying right now."
His whole body went rigid. Lily tugged on his hand, nervous, but he didn't move. For a second I thought he might say something, might break, but then he just shook his head once, slow and final.
"Go home, Summer," he said quietly. "It's getting dark. It's not safe."
And then he turned and walked away, pulling Lily with him, and I stood there on the freezing sidewalk watching them disappear around the corner. Lily looked back once, her face worried, but Kieran didn't. He didn't look back at all.
---
I don't remember getting home. I don't remember the drive or unlocking the door or climbing the stairs to my room. All I remember is sitting on the edge of my bed with my coat still on, staring at my phone, and feeling like something inside me had come loose.
Not that close.
I kept hearing it, over and over, in that flat, empty voice. Like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. Like if he said it enough times, it would be true.
But it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Not after everything. Not after the rain and the way he'd looked at me when he said he wanted to be where I was. Not after he'd bought me flowers that cost a week's pay and left them at the music hall because he was too scared to hand them to me himself.
My phone buzzed. Mom.
Downstairs when you're ready, sweetheart. I ordered Thai.
I stared at the message. I should go down. I should eat something. I should act normal and pretend I wasn't falling apart over a boy who'd just told me we weren't close, who'd looked at me like I was a stranger, who was shutting me out so completely I couldn't even see the edges of the door anymore.
But I couldn't move. I just sat there, coat and all, while the room got darker and colder and my phone stayed silent in my hand.