Chapter 142
Summer's POV
"Why now?" I asked. "Why are you suddenly... like this?"
Kieran was quiet for a long moment. "Because I realized I'm running out of time."
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath, his left hand finding mine again. "There's... something I need to deal with. At home. And I need to focus on it for a while."
"What kind of thing? Can I help?"
"Not this time." His voice was gentle but firm. "This is something I have to handle on my own."
The way he said it made my chest tighten. I knew that tone—it was the same one he'd used when he told me about Lily's cochlear implant, about the restaurant shifts that left burns on his arms, about all the things he carried alone. "Are you... are you going to disappear again?"
The fear in my voice made him turn to face me fully. He cupped my face in both hands, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me. I'm not disappearing. I'm not running away from you. I just need some time to fix things so I can come back to you properly."
"I don't understand."
"I know." His thumbs wiped away tears I didn't realize I was crying. "And I'm sorry I can't explain everything right now. But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
I nodded, even though I didn't understand, even though it hurt.
"I need to tell you something," he said, his jaw tight. "About school."
My heart sank further. "What about school?"
"I'm going to request independent study exemption." The words came out flat, clinical, like he was trying to keep emotion out of it. "I'll still be enrolled, but I won't be attending regular classes or team practices for a while."
The world tilted. "What? For how long?"
"A few months." His grip on my hand tightened, like he was afraid I'd pull away. "It's about my family. There's... a situation. And I need to be there to handle it."
"What kind of situation?" My voice shook so badly I barely recognized it. "Is it Lily? Is she okay?"
"Lily's okay." He said it firmly, urgently, needing me to believe it. "But there's... someone who came back. Someone who shouldn't be around them. And I need to make sure they're safe."
The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. "Your father?"
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
I felt like I couldn't breathe. Independent study meant he wouldn't be here—not in physics class, not at lunch, not in the library where we'd spent so many afternoons working through problem sets together. "But... you'll still be in school, right? You're not dropping out?"
"No." He squeezed my hand. "I'll still be officially enrolled. I'll just do independent study—work from home, submit assignments remotely. Coach Anderson already knows about the situation vaguely, so the paperwork should go through quickly. I'll still train on my own and come in for the important tests."
"But you won't be here." Tears spilled down my cheeks. "I won't see you."
God, the look on his face—like I'd reached into his chest and squeezed. He pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me so tightly I could feel his heart hammering against my cheek. "I know. And I hate it. But this is the only way I can keep them safe and still stay on track for the competitions."
"When do you have to start?"
"Next week. After the paperwork clears."
I pulled back just enough to look at him, trying to memorize every detail—the way his gray eyes looked almost silver in the afternoon light, the slight scar on his jaw I'd never asked about, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead when he was upset. "What if... what if you need help? What if I can—"
"Summer." He made his voice harder than I'd ever heard it, and it cut like glass. "It's my family. I'm the only one who can stop him."
"I do believe you." I was crying again, couldn't seem to stop. "But you don't have to do everything alone."
"I know." He softened, touching my face with a gentleness that made my chest ache. "But right now, the best thing you can do for me is to take care of yourself. Focus on your music. Win that competition. And when I come back, I want to see you happy and whole, not dragged down by my problems."
I stared at him for a long moment, understanding what he was really asking. He wasn't just asking me to wait—he was asking me to trust that he could handle this, that he was strong enough to protect his family and still come back to me. In my last life, I'd never given him that trust. I'd never believed he could be anything more than the poor boy from Southie.
"You're asking me to wait for you?" I said quietly.
"Yes." His eyes were desperate, vulnerable in a way I'd never seen before. "I'm asking you to wait for me. And I'll make it worth it. I swear."
I grabbed his hand, holding on like he might disappear if I let go. "Okay. I'll wait."
He pulled me into his arms then, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. I buried my face in his chest, listening to his heart race, feeling the way his whole body trembled. This was real—the fear, the desperation, the fierce determination to protect what mattered. This was Kieran, the same boy who'd grown into a man who built empires, showing me the foundation he was built on.
"Thank you," he whispered into my hair.
"Don't thank me." My voice was muffled against his shirt. "Just... come back."
"I will. I promise."