“What?” I finally choked out. “You—no.”
When Kier looked back up at me, his eyes were glassy and tortured. “I didn’t pull the trigger, but I made him do it.”
The fistlike vise that had been tightening on my chest slowly started letting up, and I blew out a deep breath. “What do you mean?”
“A guy from my school committed suicide because of me.”
My heart sank. “Kier, no. No, I don’t know what happened, but you can’t think that—”
“Indy, it was in his note. I was the reason he did it. Cops questioned me, they showed me the note, his parents—fuck, his dad put me in the hospital when I walked out of the police station that day.”
“But it was his decision—”
“Stop.” He raked his hands down his face and leaned forward, only to sit back in the chair again. “You know how you always told me that I was quiet? That I don’t talk?” When I nodded, he asked, “Did you think it was because I was shy, or . . .”
I shrugged. “No, you didn’t seem shy, just like you didn’t want to talk. Like what everyone was doing was bothering you in a way.”
He huffed and shook his head. “I was popular in high school. I was the quarterback of our football team. I was dating the hottest girl in school. My parents gave me anything I wanted and were never home anyway—so my house was always the party house. I don’t think anyone ever liked me. They liked what I was . . . if that makes sense. Rich, cocky, varsity QB . . . the whole bit. Everything back then was a label—it was dumb. But I was such a dick back then I wouldn’t even have liked me.”
I tried to see it, but I couldn’t. Kier was handsome in a way you only ever saw on silver screens, but he was always in the background, never letting anyone get close to him . . . except for me. And the kind of guy who was quiet and in the background was the exact opposite of who he was explaining now.
“I made fun of anyone who wasn’t ‘us’ basically, but there was this one kid, Alan Schwartz—God, I don’t know why, but I just wanted to ruin his life. He never did anything, he stayed away from me, shit, he’d run when he saw me . . . but I just had it out for him for some reason. Picked on him about everything. His weight, his looks, and the way he dressed—and it was constant. Every day, every time I saw him. I think because my buddies wanted to seem cool around me, or something, they all started picking on him, too, and soon he had half the football team after him. We’d have our girls put tampons in his locker. We’d steal his clothes during P.E. and sometimes replace them with girls’ clothes. And he wasn’t gay; we were just doing anything to embarrass the shit out of him. He started missing school, and that’s when I should have started realizing something was different about him. But I didn’t notice anything; I just kicked up embarrassing him on the days he was in school.
“Spring came, he kept wearing long sleeves . . . and now that it’s all over and I look back on that time, I remember how dead he looked. He didn’t cry anymore when we embarrassed him, he didn’t run away from me anymore, he just stared—like nothing mattered anymore. But when it was happening, I didn’t notice. I noticed the long sleeves, though, and, of course, I made fun of him for wearing those, too, when it was hot outside. Every. Day. Never. Stopping. I was on my way to my junior prom when I got a call from my parents saying that the police were looking for me, and that they would meet me at the station. Funny that I thought they were joking when they said the police were looking for me, but as soon as they told me they would meet me somewhere, I knew they were serious. My parents were never anywhere for me. They only care about themselves; there was always some party or resort they had to go to with colleagues or friends.
“I took my girlfriend to the prom, told her I would be back soon, and left. Alan had been cutting his wrists for months apparently, and that night, he shot himself. There was a letter on his bed addressed to me. Asking what he ever did to me to make me hate him, to torture him, and to make him wish he’d never been born. He said he’d tried to ignore me, then hoped I would see what I was doing to him, and then finally gave up . . . saying he couldn’t take it anymore. At the bottom, he wrote a line to his parents saying he loved them, and it wasn’t their fault—they did everything they could. It just wasn’t enough.”
“Kier,” I whispered, and had to swallow past the tightness in my throat. “I—I don’t know what to say.” The anguish in his voice as he retold the story couldn’t be faked. He hated himself for what had happened with Alan.
“I couldn’t even leave the room after that. I just lost it. Everything—everything I’d ever done came rushing back to me and I would have given anything to take it back. I wanted to die, I wanted it all to be a joke like they were just trying to give me a wake-up call for how I was ruining people’s lives, I wanted to apologize to Alan . . . I wanted to redo the previous three years all over again. But it wasn’t a joke,” he mumbled, and worked his jaw for a couple of minutes. “My dad’s attorney informed us that Alan’s parents were going to take us to court for a civil suit—since there wasn’t anything they could charge me with for picking on someone. My parents were still standing inside the building talking to their attorney when I walked outside. Alan’s parents were there and his dad attacked me, and I didn’t even try to stop him. I wanted to hurt, I wanted him to kill me, I wanted to take Alan’s place. By the time he was pulled off me, I was unconscious. I ended up in the hospital for a week because of it, and I felt like it hadn’t been anywhere near enough.
“But because of it, we never went to court because my parents could have actually pressed charges on him. While I was unconscious, they’d all agreed on no charges from either side . . . and my parents paid his parents off as way of an apology.” Kier looked up at me, his golden eyes dulled. “You can’t fucking pay someone for something like that. ‘Sorry our kid forced yours to pull the trigger. Here’s a hundred grand.’ Who the fuck does that?”
“Did Alan’s parents take it?”
“Yeah, and they started a foundation in Alan’s name. After that, I dropped out of football, stopped hanging out with my so-called friends. It wasn’t hard. Once I was off the team and stopped throwing parties, none of them talked to me again anyway. My girlfriend broke up with me because she said I was too different. No one even fucking cared about Alan. They were just pissed that they had to find a new place to get wasted every weekend. And that’s when I just stopped talking to people.” He shrugged and held my gaze.
“Because of Alan,” I said.
“Because my words had ended someone’s life. Because I was so self-absorbed that I couldn’t see when he needed someone to be there for him, when he was getting too low and was crying out for someone to bring him back up. I should have seen, and I just pushed him more.”
Kier dropped his head into his hands, and his shoulders shook as he cried silently. I stared at him for a few moments before finally crawling off the bed to stand in front of him. Lifting his head with my hands, I placed a soft kiss on his lips and dropped my forehead onto his.
“Don’t say it wasn’t my fault,” he pled.
“I won’t. I’m also not going to say it was your fault. It just . . . was,” I breathed.
He shook his head. “How can you—”
“Because if it weren’t for all that, you wouldn’t have been looking, and you wouldn’t have seen that you needed to save me.”
Kier removed my hands but kept his eyes locked on mine. “Indy, you cut to escape the pain of your brother being taken from you. I made a guy cut and then take his own life. Your parents are horrible to you and kicked you out. My parents don’t care about anyone except for themselves, and now I avoid them because as much as I hate myself for what happened, I hate them even more for not caring about him and trying to make it go away with their goddamn money. Things you struggle with, I’ve made happen. Why aren’t you asking me to leave?”
“I just told you.”
“No, Indy—”
“Because you aren’t that guy anymore, Kier.
You were. You did those things, and you’re obviously still paying for them. You’ll never forget Alan, and even though I can see you aren’t there yet, I hope you forgive yourself one day. You have changed, and just like you say you can see me . . . I can see your heart. You’re not at all like the guy you described to me. You’re the quiet guy who saves me from myself, gives me bread, and locks my door so no one can get to me. You’re the guy who won’t let us go to any next step until you’re sure I’m ready for it, even though you and I both know it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
His lips tilted up and one of his hands lifted to brush against my cheeks. “You don’t see me very clearly.”
I smiled sadly and twisted his own words back around on him. “I see you just fine.”
chapter seven
Kier
Glancing over to where Indy was sleeping in the passenger seat, I let my eyes roam over her calm features, and a strange feeling unfurled in my chest. Something close to a mix of possession, admiration, and pride. She was mine. If you had told me a year ago she would be in my SUV with me, on the way back to my house for winter break, I wouldn’t have believed you. She’d been untouchable then . . . she’d been untouchable for a long time. But she was here; even after finding out about my past, she was choosing to be with me.
I shook my head as I looked back at the road, and a smile curled at my lips. Amazing.
The smile fell quickly as I pulled off the freeway and began driving down the familiar streets of the city I’d grown up in. While it was familiar, none of it felt like home. It felt like a crushing reminder of the life I’d left behind. It felt cold—and it had absolutely nothing to do with the weather outside. But every winter and summer, I still came back. There was something I had to do.
Pulling into the parking lot, I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned over the center console to brush Indy’s cheek. Her eyes blinked open, and she sank back into her sweatshirt as her forehead scrunched together.
“The bank?” she asked hoarsely.
“I just have to pull out some money. I’ll only be a couple minutes, but I didn’t want you to wake up and find me gone.”
“Okay.” She glanced at me and smiled. “Are we almost there after this?”
“Yeah, just about ten minutes away.” I brushed my lips against hers before pulling back and stepping out of the vehicle.
Jogging up to the bank, I opened the doors and was immediately blasted by the heat as I stepped in. A banking officer smiled as she approached me.
“Welcome. What can I help you with today?”
I sent her a polite smile back. “I’m here to see Frank.”
Her eyebrows shot up and her eyes took in my appearance for a second before her face slipped back into her polite smile. “Of course, let me see if he’s available.”
Less than a minute later they were walking out together, and Uncle Frank was putting his arm around my shoulders as he led me back to his office. “I’ve been wondering when you would get here. How’ve you been?”
“Good. Things are good.”
He shot me a look. “Really? Finals go okay?”
“Yeah, they went pretty well. I left as soon as I finished my last one today.”
Nodding as he shut the door behind us, he moved to go sit behind his desk. “That’s good, then. But I haven’t had you tell me things were good . . . ever.”
I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair I’d sat in, and sighed. “Yeah, well, things were hard for a long time, Uncle Frank, but they’re getting better.” When he just continued to look at me with a suspicious glare, I added, “There’s a girl. She’s waiting for me in the car.”
“Really?” He smiled widely at me. “Do I get to meet her?”
“No, you don’t. I don’t want to scare her away just yet. Maybe at my summer visit, okay?”
He laughed and nodded as he began typing on his keyboard. “Okay.” His fingers stopped abruptly and he leveled me with another look. “But you’re treating her well.”
I fought back a smile. “I am, don’t worry. So, how much do I have left in the account after this semester?”
“Checking right now,” he mumbled, his eyes already glued to the screen again.
My parents had had their own ideas for where they wanted me to go to school. Dad’s master plan was for me to go to Dartmouth like he had done. He’d just figured football was a phase for me in high school and since he and the dean of admissions were close, I didn’t have to apply. How convenient. By my junior year of high school, I was already being scouted for USC football and had wanted nothing more than to follow that one to the other side of the country.
Obviously that hadn’t happened, and Dartmouth had never been in my sights, since all I’d wanted to do was play. When my life had changed so drastically, I applied to University of Michigan. It wasn’t much more than three hours from Columbus, but no one I knew was going there, and it was another step in getting away from my original plans. My parents had thought I was joking even after I’d moved into the dorm my freshman year. Whether they didn’t pay attention enough to care, or they were hoping I’d realize I was missing out on an opportunity in not going to Dartmouth, they continued to put the tuition for Dartmouth in my account every semester, along with “living money.” And living money, for them, was fucking ridiculous and felt like another one of their bribes—which led to me visiting my uncle at the end of every semester.
“Looks like you still have over thirty thousand.” Uncle Frank sent me a look. “How much do you want to keep for yourself? Two thousand like always?” I just nodded. “Okay, let me get everything ready for the transfer.”
“Have you seen them lately?” I asked hesitantly, and he and I both knew I wasn’t asking about my parents. He wasn’t exactly a fan of them, either.
“A few times in the last couple months when they’ve come in to handle funds for the foundation,” he responded without looking at me.
“How are they?”
Turning, he sat back in his seat and nodded. “They’re doing great, Kier, I promise. The foundation has really taken off. Mrs. Schwartz goes around the country now speaking out against bullying and little punks like you.”
My lips tilted up, and I laughed weakly. “That’s good.”
Uncle Frank smiled. “Yeah, they’re both moving on as best they can, trying to turn what happened into the only positive they could find.”
“Good.” I sat back and looked away.
“Name?” Uncle Frank asked a couple of minutes later.
“Do they still see the donations?”
“Yes.”
“Then anonymous,” I breathed. “Always anonymous.”
I looked up and stood when Uncle Frank blew out a heavy breath. “On behalf of the Alan Foundation, I thank you for your anonymous donation. I know the Schwartzes are thankful for it, too. And as your uncle, I love you, and your aunt and I are proud of who you’re becoming.”
I nodded and gave him a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, tell Aunt LeAnn I’ll stop by sometime over break.”
“Bring that girl with you!”
I huffed and winked as I backed up out of his office. “As long as you promise not to run her off.”
• • •
Indy
I pulled my legs up underneath me and leaned onto the center console as Kier played with my fingers. I was getting anxious to get wherever we were going, but we’d left the downtown buildings and we were now in a neighborhood with absurdly huge houses.
“Uh . . .” I started to ask again where he was taking me, but my jaw dropped when he pulled into a driveway, stopping in front of the gate to enter a code. “No. No, no. I, uh . . . Is this your house?”
“Parents’ house.”
“Right. Um, I’m not so sure I’m ready to meet . . . them. Yet.” I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. After the horror of my parents, and hearing about his, I didn’t really want to meet them. Our relationship was in a new phase; it definitely wasn’t i
n the whole bringing-the-other-home-for-Christmas phase.
“Indy, relax,” Kier crooned. “I told you, I avoid my parents. They won’t be here this entire break. They have a place in Washington where they spend a good four months out of the year. My dad’s business has a branch out there and in California, and they split the year between the three houses.”
“So that trip over Thanksgiving . . .” I trailed off.
“No, they actually took a trip to Italy.”
I sat back in the seat and looked at the house in front of us. Trips to Italy just weren’t something I ever thought could be said in a way that seemed like it wasn’t a big deal. But looking at this house, and knowing they had two others, I got it. To them it wasn’t a big deal.
Kier’s fingers curled under my chin, turning my head in his direction. “Don’t judge me based on this, or them. All this”—he gestured toward the house—“used to mean something to me, but it doesn’t anymore. I just stay here during the breaks.”
Nodding, I leaned forward and captured his lips for a few seconds. “I know it doesn’t.”
“Come on, let’s get in there. It’s gonna be cold, but I’ll turn the heat up and get a fire going.”
As I followed him out of the car and up the walkway to the door, everything about the massive house faded from my mind as I remembered what our arrival here meant. We were finally away from the houses in Ann Arbor, we were alone, and good God, Kier couldn’t open that door fast enough.
“Balls, it’s cold!” I screeched when we stepped inside.
“It will be warm in no time. Give it maybe ten minutes. It’ll be perfect. Come on, I’ll show you where our room is.”
Our room. Our room. Again everything slipped from my mind as heat rushed through my veins in anticipation.
Kier stopped twice on the way to change thermostats before we entered a room that was as big as three of mine back in the Ann Arbor house, and that wasn’t including the bathroom attached to it.
Pressing a kiss to the side of my neck, he gripped at my hips before whispering in my ear, “Get settled in. I’m gonna go check everything and start a fire.”
When We Met Page 17
