A. Jackson - When We Met

“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 in 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.”

“’Kay,” I said breathily, swaying a little when he moved away from me.

When he was gone, I looked around the room for a couple of minutes, but there wasn’t much of Kier’s childhood in there—and I figured that had more to do with him wanting to forget it than it did his parents not being a big part of his life. I walked into the bathroom, and my eyes widened when I saw the massive garden tub and shower, and I thought I’d died right then and gone to heaven.

Looking into the bedroom, I worried my bottom lip as I eyed the shower again. Not letting myself think on it any longer, I reached in and turned it on. With how cold it was in the house, a hot shower in this shower was too good to pass up—especially when we’d been in a car for close to four hours.