Chapter 158
Summer's POV
Kieran's voice wasn't loud. Didn't need to be. Something in the flat, cold tone made Drake turn around.
For a moment, they just looked at each other. Father and son. The man who'd broken him and the boy who'd survived it.
Then Drake smiled. "There he is. My son. The genius."
Kieran didn't acknowledge the words. He moved to stand between Drake and his mother, his right hand hanging stiff at his side, his left clenched into a fist. "I said get away from them."
"Or what?" Drake's smile widened. "You'll call the cops? Tell them I was having a conversation with my wife on a public street?"
"Ex-wife." Kieran's jaw was tight enough I could see the muscle jump from where I stood. "And it's harassment. I have the restraining order right here." He pulled his phone from his pocket with his left hand, the movement awkward but deliberate. "One call. That's all it takes."
Drake's expression flickered—something ugly passing behind his eyes before the smile returned. "You've gotten tough, huh? All grown up. Probably think you're the man of the house now." He looked past Kieran to Catherine. "That what you've been teaching him? That he can replace me?"
"There's nothing to replace." Kieran's voice dropped lower. "You were never here. Even when you were here."
"I provided—"
"You took." The words came out like a slap. "You took and took until there was nothing left. Mom's dignity. Lily's hearing. My—" He stopped himself, his right hand twitching.
Drake's gaze dropped to that hand, and something predatory entered his expression. "How's that working out for you, son? The hand? Still giving you trouble?"
The air went electric. I felt it even from my hiding spot—the sudden charge, the way Kieran's whole body went rigid.
"Don't." Catherine's voice cracked. "Please, just—Drake, just go. Please."
But Drake wasn't looking at her anymore. He was focused entirely on Kieran, on the way his son held himself, the careful distance he maintained. "You know what I heard? I heard you got yourself a scholarship. Full ride to some fancy school. Pretty impressive for a kid with a bum hand."
"Stop," Kieran said.
"Makes me wonder how you manage. All that writing, those tests. Must be hard, right? Working around the damage."
"I said stop."
"Or maybe—" Drake took a step closer, and Kieran held his ground. "—maybe you've learned to work with it. Adapt. That's good. That's real good. Shows character. I always knew you were tough." Another step. "Takes after your old man that way."
"I'm nothing like you."
"No?" Drake's voice went soft, dangerous. "You sure about that? Because from where I'm standing, you look pretty ready to throw a punch right now. Just like I used to. Guess the apple doesn't fall far—"
"Stop it!" The shout came from Lily, muffled against Catherine's coat but loud enough to cut through. "Stop being mean to Kieran! Just stop!"
The spell broke. Drake's attention shifted to his daughter, and something in his face softened. "Hey, baby girl. Daddy's not being mean. We're just talking, that's all. Man to man." He crouched slightly, trying to meet her eyes. "Don't you want to give your daddy a hug? It's been so long—"
Lily screamed.
It was high-pitched, terrified, the sound of a child confronting her worst nightmare. Catherine tried to hold her, but Lily was twisting, trying to get away, her hands over her ears even though she couldn't hear much through the panic anyway.
Kieran moved without thinking. He reached for his sister, pulling her against his side, his body once again a barrier between her and Drake. "You need to leave. Now."
"She's my daughter—"
"She's terrified of you." Kieran's voice shook, but not with fear. With rage. "Look at her. That's what you do. That's all you've ever done. Make people afraid."
Drake straightened, his jaw working. For a second, I thought he might actually leave. Then his gaze shifted past Kieran, past Catherine, and landed directly on me.
I'd stepped out from behind the tree without realizing it, pulling free from Mia's desperate grip on my sleeve. Behind me, I could hear her sharp intake of breath, the beginning of my name forming on her lips—"Summer, wait—"—but I was already moving forward, the cake box still clutched to my chest like armor, my feet carrying me toward the confrontation before my brain could catch up with what I was doing.
Drake's expression changed. Became calculating. "Well. Looks like we have an audience." His gaze raked over me—my Lululemon jacket, my MiuMiu bag, the expensive bakery box. "And who might you be?"
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. His attention felt like being pinned under glass.
"No one," Kieran said quickly. Too quickly. "She's no one. She was just—"
"She's got a name, doesn't she?" Drake smiled at me. It was the kind of smile that made my skin crawl. "Pretty thing like that, standing there with a fancy cake. Let me guess—friend of yours?"
"Leave her alone." Kieran's voice cracked on the last word.
"I'm not doing anything." Drake spread his hands, all innocence. "Just making conversation. That's allowed, isn't it? Or did your boy here make rules about that too?"
My mouth was so dry. I tried to swallow, failed. "I'm calling the police."
"For what?" Drake laughed. "Standing on a public sidewalk? Talking to my family?" He looked back at Kieran. "This your girlfriend? Is that it? You got yourself a rich girl?"
"Don't talk to her."
"Why not? She's standing right there. Seems rude not to acknowledge her." Drake's smile widened. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"I said don't—"
"Summer."
The word came out before I could stop it. Automatic. Stupid.
Drake's eyebrows rose. "Summer. Pretty name. Fits." He looked between us, something ugly dawning in his expression. "Oh. Oh, I see. This is serious, huh? Not just some school thing." He whistled low. "Moving up in the world, aren't you, son? Guess that scholarship's paying off in more ways than one."
"Shut up." Kieran's hands were shaking now. Both of them.
"Does she know?" Drake continued, relentless. "About the hand? About what happened? Does she know what her boyfriend's really like when he gets angry?"
"Stop—"
"Because he's got a temper. Just like his old man. Learned it from watching me, I bet. That's how it works, you know. Kids become what they see."
"I'm nothing like you!" Kieran's voice broke completely, teenage and raw. "I would never—I've never—"
"Yet," Drake said softly. "You've never hurt anyone yet."
The words hung in the air like poison.
I found my voice. "That's not true. Kieran would never—he's nothing like—"
"You don't know him, sweetheart." Drake's tone was almost pitying. "You see the smart kid, the scholarship boy, the hero who takes care of his family. But I know what's underneath. I made what's underneath."
"You made nothing," I said, and my voice didn't shake. It should have, but it didn't. "You hurt him. There's a difference."
Drake's expression hardened. "Careful, little girl. This is family business. You should probably run along before—"
"Before what?" The question came out steady. Cold. "Before you threaten me too? Add me to the list?"
Silence. Even the street noise seemed to fade.
Then Kieran moved. He stepped forward, putting himself between Drake and me, his body language screaming protection even as his voice stayed level. "If you touch her—if you even look at her again—I will end you. Not with cops. Not with lawyers. Me. Do you understand?"