A. Jackson - When We Met

“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.”

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?”