by K. A. Tucker
“What were you guys thinking, going out there?” she admonishes. “How much did you drink?”
I steal a glance to my left, to Kyle. His jaw tenses.
What will happen to him if the police find out that he used his brother’s ID to buy the booze?
“I know you’ve all been drinking. I can smell it on you. And there’s a pile of empty bottles lying here. Where did you get the alcohol? In town? Who bought it for you?”
Kyle bought it, but I paid for it all, on my credit card. There’s a record of it, and now Eric is badly hurt and there are cops hovering. What will happen to me?
I swallow my rising fear. “I’d like to call my father.” As much as I dread that conversation, if there’s a way out of this, he’ll know it. Plus, he’s going to find out anyway. About this, about Kyle . . .
Darian sighs. “That’s a very good idea, Piper. Let’s call all your parents. And you can pack your things while you wait for them to come and get you.”
“Is that him?” Kyle murmurs, his fingers laced within mine as we sit beside each other at a picnic table under the pavilion, watching headlights approach up Wawa’s long, winding road at one A.M.
“Yeah, I think so,” I manage to say around the painful lump in my throat. The belongings I arrived with are packed and sitting on the ground next to my feet.
“Mine should be here soon,” Ashley murmurs, her voice missing that usual spark.
Kyle’s mom said she’s not coming, that Kyle can drive himself home. Darian insisted that would be first thing tomorrow morning, when the alcohol has left his system.
I’m sober now. I think I’ve been sober since the state troopers questioned me about how Eric fell. Once they were convinced it was a drunken accident and not foul play, they lined us up and berated us for a half hour about how stupid and irresponsible we are, how no parent would want their child left in our care at this camp, and then handed us all our fines for underage drinking and left.
Dread takes hold of my insides and squeezes tight as the SUV comes to a stop beside the old green Pinto. I’m not sure which is worse—facing my father or saying goodbye to Kyle.
My father doesn’t wait for Eddie to open the door. He slides out from the backseat and, adjusting the collar of his button-down shirt, marches across the dimly lit lawn toward us, his face as stony as I’ve ever seen it, even from all the way over here.
Darian intercepts him on the way. I’m sure she’s filling him in on exactly why I’ve been fired. And whatever he’s saying to her, well . . . Darian seems to shrink back as my father speaks, looming over her tiny frame.
“Piper!” he bellows.
I climb to my feet and sway, not because of alcohol. “I guess this is it, then.” My voice cracks.
A sob escapes Ashley’s throat as she throws her arms around me.
My own eyes begin to water as I return the embrace.
“I had so much fun with you this summer.”
“Up until tonight.”
We share a weak laugh, though there’s nothing amusing about any of this.
“Keep in touch, okay?” she whispers.
“Of course.” Oddly enough, it’s the same thing Christa said when she thrust a piece of paper into my hand on my way out of our cabin, her email address scrawled across it in her perfect bubbly penmanship. Then she hugged me. I was shocked, to say the least.
Kyle is on his feet, my duffel bag in his hand.
I fight the tears but they win, streaming down my cheeks. After seeing Kyle every day for almost an entire summer, this is goodbye. For now. “You’ll call me, right?”
“Yes.” He reaches up to wipe a tear away with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m so sorry.” Not only has he lost his job, but that fine will eat into his savings.
He sighs. “What are you sorry about? This isn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, but . . . I’m still sorry.”
“Piper!” my dad calls again. He begins marching back toward the parking lot, expecting me to follow.
“Come on, I’ll walk you.” Kyle takes a step forward.
I hesitate. “There? To him?”
He shrugs. “What’s he going to do, hit me?”
I grab my sleeping bag and pillow, and together we trudge across the front lawn. How long ago it seems now, that early summer day when Mom dropped me off here, reluctant and bitter.
Now I would do anything to stay. Anything to see Eric running around—naked or otherwise. Anything to be curled up in bed next to Kyle right now, where I should be.
Why did we have to be so stupid?
Darian is waiting for us where she met my father. Her face is drawn and tight. “Piper, can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks. “Alone?”
Kyle unloads my sleeping bag from my arms and continues on, my anxiety rising with each step that he takes toward the SUV.
Darian hands me an envelope. “This covers your pay up until this morning.”
“Thanks.” My gaze falls to my running shoes. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs heavily. “No . . . I’m sorry. Kyle and Eric were always a handful. I was naïve enough to think I could handle them. I shouldn’t have allowed them back this year. Or I should have gotten rid of them after the first incident. If I had, Eric wouldn’t be lying in a hospital room.”
As much as I wish the same for Eric, I’m glad she let them come back—I can’t imagine not knowing Kyle, not having these memories—but I don’t voice that.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“I haven’t talked to his parents yet. They’re still on their way from Erie. It’s quite a drive. But he was conscious, which is a good sign.” Her eyes drift over to the parking lot. “Your father. He’s a tough one, isn’t he?”
“Especially when he’s angry.” And he is facing off with Kyle now. Oh God. “I should go—”
“I’m not that much older than you guys. I remember what it was like to be young and in love. You can’t think of anything else. Nothing else matters. It’s all-consuming.” She smiles sadly. “And it feels like a part of you dies when you’ve lost it, a part you’ll never get back. But you will.”
I frown, wondering what she’s getting at. I haven’t lost Kyle. Sure, we’ll be three hours away from each other, but we’ll make it work.
I’ll make it work.
“I really wish this had gone a different way, Piper. I’m . . . very disappointed. You are a good counselor. I would have liked to have seen you here again next year.”
“I would have liked to have come.”
“I hope, if nothing else, you’ve learned from this.” She hesitates, but then wraps her arms around me. “Take care of yourself. And make better choices. That could have been you tumbling down those rocks.”
With that, I rush toward Kyle and my father. By the time I reach them, Kyle’s face is ghostly white and pained.
“Let’s go,” my dad commands. “It’ll be almost four A.M. by the time we get home.”
“I need a few minutes—”
“Piper.”
“Just a few minutes!” My voice cracks as I bark back, setting my jaw with defiance, though I tack on a “Please.”
His lips are a thin line. “I’ll take those.” He holds his hands out, staring intently at Kyle.
Kyle hands him my things, which he promptly passes to Eddie.
“You have two minutes to say goodbye.” He climbs into the SUV.
I grasp Kyle’s hands. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Kyle smiles, but I know it’s forced.
“Here.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out the stack of paychecks. “I signed all of them over to you.”
He’s already shaking his head. “No, I can’t—”
“Take it! Please. I don’t need it and you just lost a week of pay. Plus, this way you can afford to call me and come visit.”
His jaw clenches as he gently pushes my hand away. “I can’t, Piper. Thank you, though.”
This is it. I throw my arms around Kyle’s neck, my eyes watering again, panic seizing my insides. “I don’t want to leave you,” I whisper.
His arms tighten around my waist, squeezing me.
I pull away, just enough to press my lips against his, ever conscious of my father’s gaze from the backseat.
Kyle hesitates at first, but then he’s the one deepening the kiss.
“I love you so much,” I whisper against his mouth, crying now.
He blinks away a sheen in his own eyes. “I love you, too, Piper. Always. Remember that.”
“You’ll call me tomorrow, as soon as you get home?”
His jaw grows taut and he swallows, his gaze flittering to the dark window, to the unseen face looming behind.
“Yeah. Here.” He slips off the leather bracelet from his wrist. “To remind you of me.”
“As if I could ever forget you.” I laugh through my tears. I search my body, coming up empty. “I wish I had something to give you.”
“I don’t need anything.” He smiles sadly and taps his temple. “It’s all up here.”
With one last kiss, he breaks free and begins walking away, his head hanging low.
Not until I’m seated and we’re rolling down the driveway, my thumb rubbing back and forth over the grain of the leather, do I get the eerie sense that that felt like a final goodbye.
I’m staring at the plate in front of me—at the massacred slice of toast, shredded to pieces, none of them eaten—when my father swoops into the kitchen, his navy suit looking fresh and crisp, coffee mug in hand. It’s Monday morning, at eleven. He should have been at work four hours ago.
“Your mother is on her way back from Paris. She’ll be home in a few hours,” he announces. It’s the first thing he’s said to me since the drive home from Wawa, early yesterday morning. After he told me I can forget about my car for a year, as well as my credit card.
“Did she sound upset that she and Aunt Jackie had to end their vacation early?”
“Is that who she told you she’s with?” Dad’s jaw tightens. “No. She and . . . Aunt Jackie know it’s time they came home.” His voice is dripping with bitterness.
“Have you been able to find out anything about Eric?” I ask, pleading in my voice. Ashley and I have been texting back and forth, but there’s no news between the two of us. I emailed Christa yesterday, to see if she’d heard. Being lead counselor, she has more access to the office computer than any other counselors there. Plus, she’s the only email address I have besides the Camp Wawa administrative in-box that I used for employment paperwork.
She has no news on him, either.
So, I asked my father yesterday if he could find something out. He always has his ways. He didn’t acknowledge my request with anything more than a glare.
Dad chugs the rest of his coffee and then sets the porcelain mug on the counter. “The boy’s leg and arm are badly broken and he hit his head a few times, but they’re saying he’ll pull through.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” I hesitate. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”
His jaw tenses. “I’m sorry, too, Piper. But I will always do what I know is best for you. Remember that.” With that, he’s gone.
Leaving me to stare at my phone, the agony unbearable.
Kyle hasn’t called.
Hasn’t messaged, hasn’t texted.
Christa said he left Wawa before anyone woke up on Sunday morning. And yet I haven’t heard from him. I keep thinking something horrible happened on his drive home. But when I call his number, it rings on and on. His family doesn’t know to call me, but, if something bad had happened, wouldn’t a family member answer his phone?
The calls go through; it hasn’t died yet, so it’s being charged.
So why isn’t he answering?
Why hasn’t he called?
Chapter 25
NOW
“This is where your dad lives?” Kyle’s gaze roams the Tudor-style house ahead as our cab pulls into the driveway. We’re in a quiet gated community only fifteen minutes away from the downtown core and five minutes from my childhood home. Nothing’s changed about this part of Lennox, which is graced with deep-rooted oak trees and ten-foot cedar hedges for fence lines and two-acre properties.
“Yeah, why?”
“I just expected something more . . . showy, I guess.”
“That’s not really my dad’s style.” Despite what he builds. The house is on the smaller size compared to the other houses in the neighborhood, but it has character and charm, landscaped with lush gardens and stone pathways marked by ornate lampposts. “We’ll probably be fifteen or twenty minutes,” I tell the cab driver.
“You got it, lady.” The gruff, unshaven man settles back, leaving the meter running.
There’s a silver Z3 parked in front of the garage. His flavor of the month must be here. Great. We’ll have an audience for this.
As resolute as I was while standing in my bathroom, now I wonder whether this is a big mistake. If I should focus on dealing with Tripp and keep my personal affairs private for a few more weeks—or years—so I can enjoy Kyle without the looming presence of my father.
The fact is, though, there is a constant and growing knot in my stomach with the anticipation of confronting my father over Kyle, a festering dread that I’d rather face head-on.
I march for the front door. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
“Wait,” Kyle calls out in a rush, just before my finger hits the doorbell. He squeezes his eyes shut. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet. About Eric. About what happened to him. About what I did.” His jaw clenches.
And the hairs on the back of my neck prickle with unease.
“What do you—”
The front door flies open.
“Piper?” My dad frowns, his gaze skittering from me, to Kyle, and back to me. “I saw the taxi pull up. What are you doing here?”
“I . . . uh.” I planned a mini-speech on the drive here but I’m thrown off for a moment. “The phone company sent me the records. I have proof. You wanted proof about Tripp, and I have it.” I stumble over my words. What was Kyle going to tell me?
“This is not a good time,” my dad mutters. His shirt collar is crooked, the top three buttons unfastened.
“I can see that.”
What did Kyle do? What about Eric?
He cocks his head toward Kyle. “Who are you? You look familiar.”
“I work in your building, sir,” Kyle says stoically.
Dad’s eyes narrow as they take in the sleeve of tattoos. “The security guard.”
“Yes, sir.”
But Dad’s still frowning, deciphering Kyle and wearing that I know you but I don’t know how expression.
I finally find my composure, handing over my phone to Dad. “I have deleted texts between Tripp and Hank Kavanaugh, with Tripp saying 500k is his asking price, and what would have to be in the proposal to look more appealing than Jameson’s. And you know how Tripp said he’d been working this with KDZ for months? That’s bullshit. Or partly. Because there are all these other texts from January through May that show Hank Kavanaugh wanted to buy that building but we beat him to it. He was looking to invest and convert it himself. He’s old friends with Tripp, so he started pushing him to get us to sell. That’s why Tripp was stalling. He figured he’d make the project look like a loser and then, when you’d had enough with the delays and decided to cut our losses, Tripp would come in with KDZ. Hank offered him a cut for that deal, initially. And then when that all fell through, Tripp offered up the construction deal for it instead.”
“Jesus Christ.” Shock fills Dad’s face. “You have all that?”
“Yes, in phone texts. I wouldn’t have thought to check, but Kyle suggested it. And he’s also the one who overheard Tripp on the phone and told me about it.”
“Wait a minute.” Dad stares at the man standing next to me, and I watch the recognition finally take
shape in his eyes. “Kyle? The boy from that camp?”
“He works security in your building?” a familiar voice exclaims from somewhere inside the house.
I frown. “Mom?”
Dad sighs, flinging the door open, and there she is, standing a few feet away. “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?” He glares at her with accusation.
It dawns on me. “This is who you’re dating? You’re dating Dad?” My head feels like it’s going to explode. “But you two hate each other!”
Dad doesn’t bother to explain, his steely gaze on Kyle. “What the hell is he doing here?”
I reach over and take Kyle’s hand. “He came with me.”
Dad’s eyes flare. “You have got to be kidding me—”
My fingers squeeze tight. “I know what you did, Dad. I know that you paid Kyle to leave. I know that you threatened him if he didn’t.” My voice is rising with each syllable. We’re still standing on the doorstep, giving the cab driver a show, but so be it. “You threatened an innocent seventeen-year-old, who was already traumatized by what happened to his friend that same night.” It doesn’t take much for me to think back and remember the look of fear and helplessness on Kyle’s face as he stood halfway down that hill, peering at Eric’s broken body below.
“Innocent seventeen-year-old boy?” My father nearly spits the words out.
“Kieran, calm down.” My mother reaches for him, her hand smoothing over his arm with affection. It’s a bizarre, foreign sight to behold and I’m sure it’ll register in my mind later.
I sense Kyle stiffening beside me as Dad steps forward, my mother’s attempts failing. “Did your innocent little friend tell you about the hundred grand that he extorted from me!”
“It wasn’t like that,” Kyle blurts out. “And it wasn’t for me!”
I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach.
A hundred grand?
Extortion?
“What is he talking about?” My hand slips from Kyle’s as I turn to face him, to see the guilt and pain in his eyes.
“It wasn’t for me. It was for Eric,” he says softly.
