Chapter 99
Summer's POV
"Is that what you think this is?" I asked quietly. "Charity?"
"What else would it be?" His laugh was bitter. "You know what I am now? I'm just the sellout. The scholarship kid who took the cash. MIT is gone, Summer. It's all gone. All I have is money I took from people who think I'm trash, and a reputation that makes everyone on campus either pity me or hate me." He finally looked at me then, really looked at me, and the pain in his eyes made my chest ache. "So yeah, Summer. I don't know why you'd want anything to do with me now. You should be focusing on your audition, your future. Not wasting energy on someone like me."
"Someone like you," I repeated, my voice shaking. "You mean someone who gave up everything to protect people who couldn't protect themselves? Someone who took the blame and the punishment even though you were the victim? That's who you think you are?"
His face went pale. "You don't understand—"
"I understand more than you think." I took a breath, trying to steady myself. "I know what you did. I know why you did it. And I know you're trying to convince yourself it was about the money, but we both know that's not true."
For a long moment, we just stared at each other. The rain picked up outside, drumming against the windows, and somewhere in the building a door slammed shut.
"I can't give you what you're looking for," Kieran said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever you think I am, whatever you want me to be—I can't. I'm not worth this much trouble, Summer. I'm really not."
My throat burned. "That's not your decision to make."
"Then what do you want from me?" The question came out raw, almost desperate. "What am I supposed to say? That I'm grateful you care? That it matters to me? Because it does, and that's the problem. Every time you show up, every time you look at me like I'm worth something, it gets harder to remember why I should stay away from you."
The confession hung in the air between us. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat.
"Then don't," I said. "Don't stay away."
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were bright with something that looked like pain. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I know exactly what I'm asking." I stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the rain on his clothes, see the way his chest rose and fell with each careful breath. "I'm asking you to stop trying to protect me from yourself. I'm asking you to trust me enough to let me make my own choices."
"And what if your choice is wrong?" His voice cracked on the last word. "What if I let you in and I ruin everything? What if—"
"What if you don't?" I interrupted. "What if it's okay? What if you're allowed to have something good for once?"
He looked at me like I'd said something in a foreign language. Like the concept of "something good" was so foreign to him he couldn't even process it.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him that he deserved every good thing in the world, that he was worth more than money or competitions or anyone's expectations.
Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened my calendar. "Next Sunday," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Boston Youth Symphony auditions at Symphony Hall. I'm playing the Rachmaninoff piece you heard today. My mom has to go to New York for work, so she can't make it." I looked up at him. "Will you come? Will you come watch me play?"
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Summer—"
"I know it's a lot to ask," I rushed on before he could say no. "I know you're busy, and you probably have better things to do than sit through a bunch of high school students murdering classical music. But I—" My voice broke. "I want you there. I need someone there who actually cares, not just someone who's there because they're supposed to be."
The silence stretched out. Rain lashed against the windows. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
"I can't," Kieran said finally, and each word sounded like it cost him something. "I have a tutoring session that day. I'm sorry."
The rejection shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. I'd known it was a long shot. But still, the disappointment was sharp and immediate, cutting through all my careful composure.
"Oh." I forced myself to smile, even though my eyes were burning. "That's okay. I understand. You have to work."
"Summer—"
"No, really, it's fine." I took a step back, putting distance between us before I could embarrass myself further. "I shouldn't have asked. It was presumptuous of me."
"It wasn't." His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for me, then fell back to his side. "I just—I can't."
"I know." I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder. "I should go. My mom's probably waiting."
I made it to the door, pushed it open, and stepped out into the rain. The cold droplets hit my face immediately, mixing with the tears I'd been holding back. The parking lot stretched out before me, empty and gray, and somewhere beyond it I could hear the distant hum of traffic on Commonwealth Avenue.
I stood there for a moment, letting the rain soak through my jacket, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. Then, before I could stop myself, before I could think about what I was doing or why it was a terrible idea, I turned around.
Kieran was still visible through the glass doors, standing in the same spot, watching me.
I walked back inside, dripping water onto the floor, my hair plastered to my face. He looked startled, like he hadn't expected me to come back.
"Can I—" My voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper. "Can I hug you? Just once?"