Say You Still Love Me: Chapter 13

My left heel wobbles a touch as I step out of the elevator. I’m two minutes early and Kyle is already in the meeting room, seated and waiting, his back to me, his attention on his phone.

For just a moment, I lose my nerve and reach back to hold the elevator door. For just a moment, I tell myself this is crazy and that I need to let go and move on before I humiliate myself further.

I don’t know the cool, reserved man sitting in that room; I only know the wild boy he used to be.

But then that familiar thrill stirs in my stomach, the one that Kyle has always stirred inside me like no one else—not even David in our early days. And I can’t dismiss that.

Taking a deep breath, I push through the glass door.

Kyle doesn’t shift or turn; he waits until I’m towering over him to peer up at me. His golden eyes are wary and resigned. That gaze flickers down, over my slate-blue silk blouse—the collar plunging but not unprofessionally so—and then back up. It’s a quick look, but I don’t miss it.

“Is this about that Tripp guy?” he finally asks.

I settle into the chair across from him, putting us at equal level. “No.”

He nods slowly, as if he knows what I’m going to ask. I’m guessing he heard my question yesterday, after all. He chose to pretend he didn’t.

Do I go in hard or do I try a more subtle approach?

His eyes trail my hands as I clasp them on the table.

“How is everything?”

The smallest smirk touches his lips. “No complaints.”

“Are you liking things here so far?”

“Yes.”

“And you like Lennox?”

“Yes.” He’s answering as if he’s being questioned in an interrogation. And maybe that’s what this is.

“Do you like it more than San Diego?”

His smirk falters a touch.

“Gus told me that’s where you moved from.”

He nods slowly. “I figured it was time to come home.”

“Home?” I repeat lightly. “I thought home was Poughkeepsie. Or was it Albany?”

“Both, actually.” His lips twist in thought. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything, Kyle.” I hear the vulnerability in my voice and I hate it. I clear my throat and attempt to steel my nerve. “Unlike you, I’ve never forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he says quickly, sharply, piercing me with a look that is somehow both hard and soft. “Not a second of it.”

The air in this meeting room has suddenly turned electric.

So then why the act? I want to ask, but I bench that question for the moment.

“When did you move to San Diego?”

He shifts and settles back in his chair, as if to get comfortable. “Two weeks after I left Wawa.”

With not so much as a call or email or anything to me?

He drums his fingertips over the table’s smooth surface in an unhurried tempo, his gaze never leaving mine.

Waiting for me to ask my next question.

My phone vibrates in my pocket with an incoming call. I ignore it. This exchange between Kyle and me feels so much more important than anything else at the moment. “How is your family doing now?”

He sighs heavily, his eyes drifting to the window behind me. “Fine, I guess. I don’t have much to do with them anymore.”

“Are they out?” I don’t need to elaborate.

Kyle turns his head, as if checking the hall behind us to make sure there aren’t any eavesdroppers hovering by the door. It gives me a sublime view of his profile—of that long, slender nose that used to nuzzle against my neck, of those full, soft pouty lips that spent many nights against mine. Does he still kiss like he used to, I wonder, or has that changed along with the rest of him?

“Yeah. Well, my dad and Ricky are, anyway. They were released a few years ago. Max got into some trouble while inside, so his sentence got extended. He gets out in a few months.” Kyle doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I assume that’s all the information I’m going to get. But then he offers, “They were living in Albany for a bit, but they decided to move to San Diego. Last I heard, my mom and dad are back together, and Dad and Ricky were working construction. Probably looking for their next scam.”

“You don’t think they’ve learned?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve learned. They’ve learned all kinds of things being behind bars for that long. Like, how not to get caught next time,” he mutters sarcastically, his gaze shifting to the table again.

His opinion of his family hasn’t changed much, I note. In all fairness, I’ve never met them, so it may be true.

“Do they know you moved to Lennox?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, but then shakes his head. “I didn’t tell them. Maybe my little brother did. If not . . . I’ll find out when I call my mom at Christmas.”

What must it be like to have such a dysfunctional family? Not that the Calloways are a poster child for family ideals. Dad and I do dinner and drinks on December twenty-third so he can pass along whatever gift Greta chose for me before he jets off to his yacht in the Cayman Islands. I spend Christmas on Martha’s Vineyard, sipping berry cosmos and listening to Elton John’s holiday tracks while Aunt Jackie gets bombed and Mom admires the twenty-foot designer-decorated tree. Though, now that Rhett and Lawan are in America, maybe we’ll break out the ugly Christmas sweater tradition again.

What are Kyle’s Christmases like? Obviously he spends it with this woman he’s seeing. Likely with her family, too. Do they lounge around in matching ugly sweaters and woolen socks, getting drunk on spiced eggnog and playing board games? Do they draw names for Secret Santa and playfully argue over who gets the task of peeling potatoes?

Who even is Kyle anymore?

And why did he come here?

I watch him closely.

It’s a moment before his gaze lifts to meet mine. That perpetual shadow lingers in his eyes, one that I never saw that summer at Wawa. Maybe it has come with his wisdom and pain.

Or maybe it was always there and I only see it now, because of my wisdom and pain.

“Why did you request a transfer to this building?” I ask evenly.

His jaw tenses. I wait several long moments, but he doesn’t answer.

“You knew this was my building, didn’t you?”

He swallows, his gaze averting to his folded hands on the table.

“Gus told me you put in a request to come here. Why?”

Silence.

“I need to understand, Kyle. Otherwise I’m going to have to give Gus details about our history and then he’s going to have to report it to Rikell, and—”

“I needed to see you again,” he blurts out. He looks up at me, nothing but earnestness in his eyes. “I just . . . I wanted to see you again.”

Such a simple admission, and yet my chest swells with elation. “Why? I mean, why now? It’s been thirteen years.”

He sighs and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Like I said, Max is getting out in a few months, and from what my little brother told me—”

“Jeremy. That’s his name, right?”

Kyle’s eyes flash to mine, a flicker of surprise in them. “Yeah.”

How easily the minute details about Kyle come back to me, all these years later.

“He still talks to my mom. She told him that Max is coming to California when he gets out. Apparently he was asking all kinds of questions about my job and if I could get him in.” Kyle snorts. “An ex-con working in security. Right. Anyway, that’s when I started thinking that it was time for me to leave California, cut them off completely. I figured I could come back this way. I knew Rikell has contracts all over the country.” He drags his finger across the wood grain of the table. “I was working the night shift, flipping through a business magazine that someone left in the lobby. You know, just killing time and trying to stay awake. There was this big write-up about these father-and-daughter real estate business tycoons.” His lips curl into a knowing smirk. “And there you were, in this long, black dress, standing on a stage.”

“The American Entrepreneur article.” They used a candid shot from the night of my big promotion announcement, of my father and me standing side-by-side in our formal wear, toasting to another good year.

“It was a good article. I mean, I don’t read those kinds of things, but I liked reading about you. Where you went to college, things you’ve said and done—you know, all that.” He smiles, more to himself. “It was weird. I kept thinking, ‘I knew her way back when.’ ”

And better than I’ve let any other guy know me since.

“The article said you were in Lennox, learning the ropes so you could take over the company when your dad retires.” Kyle bites his bottom lip, as if deciding whether to continue. “I asked around and it turned out Rikell does the security here. And I thought to myself, if that’s not the universe telling me something . . .” A flush creeps across his cheeks, his eyes glued to the table in front of him. “That’s when I realized how badly I wanted to see you again. I wanted to see if you’ve changed.”

I swallow at his frank admission. “You could have just called me up, come for a visit. You didn’t have to actually get a job here.” Then again, that does feel like such a Kyle thing to do—going that extra mile.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I threw my name in and figured, if an opening came up, it was meant to happen. That we were meant to reconnect. I promised myself that if it came up, I’d move here. Why not?”

I can’t help but smile. That is such a Kyle thing to do. “And something came up.”

“Something came up.” He grins crookedly. “And, here we are, seeing each other every day again. Just like back then.”

“Yeah. You see me passing by you. See me sitting in an office as you walk by. You see me, but you won’t talk to me. Remember? ‘Let’s keep it simple’? Something like that?” My voice is light but tinged with accusation.

He dips his head and rubs at the back of his neck again. “I panicked a bit there, at the start.”

“You were a complete asshole to me.”

He winces. “I know. Seeing you brought back a lot of memories.” His gaze flickers to mine, and in it I see a hint of the vulnerable boy I once knew.

“For me, too,” I say softly, feeling the sudden urge to reach across the table and take his hand. I ball my fist tight to resist. He’s not yours anymore.

That’s right. He’s not mine.

“What does your girlfriend have to say about this? She moved across the country with you, didn’t she?” Does she know all the reasons why? Because if I were her, I sure as hell would want to know. And then I’d skin him in his sleep for suggesting the move.

Kyle bites his bottom lip again as he regards me evenly. “I live with Jeremy, Piper. He’s the one who moved across the country with me, and he was happy to get away from the bullshit back home, too.”

“What? I thought . . .” I stammer, my heart beginning to race. “But you said that you had a . . .” My words drift as I replay the conversation. “No, you didn’t say that.”

“You just assumed it,” he says, adding softly, “and I didn’t clarify.”

“Why not?”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “I don’t know. Easier, I guess?” Under his breath, I catch him mutter, “At least, I thought it would be.”

My mind is swirling.

Kyle is single. Available.

Not off-limits to me.

Despite how much he hurt me all those years ago, and my irritation with how our reconnection has gone so far, I can’t ignore this feeling that I’m about to float out of this chair, that my blood is rushing too fast for my heart to handle.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, I realized as soon as I saw you that this might have been my dumbest idea yet, coming here. But it was already too late—”

“What do you mean? Why is it dumb?”

He chuckles softly. “Come on, Piper . . . We’re not teenagers at summer camp anymore.”

I frown. What is he saying, exactly? “We’re the same people,” I hear myself murmur, though I doubt that’s true on both accounts.

“You always pretended you were like the rest of us. You can’t do that anymore, though. I mean, look at you.” His eyes flicker to my shirt again, drawing my own eyes down.

“What? My blouse? What’s wrong with my blouse?”

“Absolutely nothing. It’s definitely not the Wawa red T-shirt, though.” That somehow sounds bad, coming from him.

I know what this is about: class and money. Kyle always did seem to have a chip on his shoulder about how much money he presumed my family had, and how little his did. And that was back when he had no idea just who my family actually is.

“Weak.”

His lips twitch, and I wonder if he remembers that first day, out on the cliff, when he was taunting me to jump.

“I’m still me. You can still talk to me. We can still be . . . friends.” The word feels all wrong against my tongue. We were never really friends. We were always so much more.

“Right.” He smiles. “You’re gonna hang out with your building’s security guard in your spare time?”

“If I want to, yes.”

“Your father’s going to be okay with that?”

“My father doesn’t have a say in my personal relationships.”

His eyebrows arch. “You sure about that?”

“I’m a grown woman.” It comes out more sharply than I intended. I temper my tone. “If he had a say, I’d still be engaged to David.”

“That pompous ass in the Maserati.” Kyle grins. “I can’t believe you were going to marry that guy.”

“Trust me. I know. Thank God I smartened up when I did.” I laugh, and my chest feels like it’s going to explode with warmth. I’m actually laughing with Kyle again. “This is so surreal.”

“I know,” he says softly, and I catch a sparkle of mischief in his eyes before it’s extinguished, and silence takes over.

I hesitate, but then admit, “I looked for you.”

He dips his head but doesn’t answer.

“I went to Poughkeepsie, to the Seven-Eleven.” There was only one in the whole town, thank God. “There was an old lady in the apartment. She said that you’d moved.” I remember not being able to breathe as I knocked and listened to the dull shuffle of feet on the other side. And then, when the woman in the ratty blue robe delivered the crushing news—that she heard the family before her hadn’t paid their rent all summer and had skipped town—I thought I was going to throw up, right there on her doorstep. I managed to keep the tears at bay until I was in the parking lot.

Kyle’s eyes drift behind me, to the window and beyond.

I still have so many questions. But I start with the most important. “Why did you just disappear like that? Why didn’t you ever call me?”

His jaw tenses. “I figured it was better. I mean . . .” Another hard swallow. “We were never supposed to last beyond the summer. It was just supposed to be fun. You knew that.”

“No. I didn’t know that, Kyle.” Sure, we’d talked about it, in the beginning. But things morphed. Feelings intensified. All those stolen smiles, those whispered words, those shared laughs, those heated kisses.

Those nights.

Was I really that clueless?

“Are you saying . . .” I grapple with my thoughts, my rising emotions. “So everything you said to me was a lie?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“But you never wanted it to last?”

“Of course I did.”

“Well then you’re not making any sense!” I feel a knot forming in my throat, which only makes me angrier, because I shouldn’t still have knots forming in my throat over things that happened thirteen years ago!

“Wawa was over for us. We lived hours apart. It just . . . it was never gonna work.” His jaw is hard as he spews basically the same line over again.

“Then why are you here?” I temper my volume. These walls are too thin to be speaking that loud. “Why did you come back now?”

“I told you. I was moving back east anyway.”

“And what did you think was going to happen when you showed up? What were you expecting? That I would have forgotten how you hurt me?”

He dips his head. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. It’s been thirteen years. I figured you would have moved on.”

“I did move on!” I snap, because I’m feeling like a fool right now. A sixteen-year-old pining fool.

A fool still in love. But I have to accept that all I’m in love with is a memory.

“You are right. This was a mistake.” I stand. “Thank you for coming. You can go back to work now. And maybe you should consider applying for a transfer to another building. Gus can help you with that.”

“Piper, I didn’t mean—”

“You broke my heart!” My voice cracks, my chest tight with emotion that I’m still grappling to understand. Maybe time doesn’t heal all wounds.

I march toward the door, acutely aware of the sound of Kyle’s chair banging against the table’s leg, the hair-raising ping of metal-against-metal hanging in the air. A moment later, his hand is around my wrist, gripping it tightly, holding me back from escape.

“I’m sorry, Piper. But you don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Because if all we had was a summer fling thirteen years ago, why the hell would you even give me a second’s thought now?” I dare to meet his eyes. “Did you come here for money? Is that what you want?”

He releases my wrist like I’ve burned him. His nostrils flare. “I don’t want any of your family’s money,” he pushes through gritted teeth.

I shrug, but inside, every bit of me twists at the idea. “How do I know that? I don’t know you anymore. Maybe I never did.” I turn to leave.

“He paid me to leave you alone!” Kyle says in a rush.

My feet stall. “What?” I turn to find Kyle’s head bowed, his eyes squeezed shut.

“What did you just say?”

“I never could lie to you to save my life,” he mutters.

A sinking feeling takes over. “Who paid you to leave me alone?”

Kyle meets my gaze, this time with a flat look. “Who do you think, Piper?”

I shake my head. There’s only one person who would do such a thing. The one man who could afford it, and who would be motivated to do so.

“Fifty grand, to pack up and leave, and never contact you again.”

“And you actually took it?”

Kyle flinches. “Your father can be persuasive.”

My pulse begins to race. I can’t believe my father would do this, and yet I don’t doubt for a second that he did.

“When I saw you in the lobby the first time, I couldn’t figure out if you ever found out—”

“When did this happen?” I demand.

“That night. When you were leaving,” Kyle admits with a hint of reluctance. “While you were talking to Darian. He told me that someone would be by my apartment within the next day or two to give me money, and that if I was smart, I’d take it and get the hell out of your life for good, before I did something to ruin it.” He sighs. “And that if I didn’t take the money, he’d find a way to put me behind bars with the rest of my family, where I belonged.”

“You’re lying,” I accuse, even though a voice inside my head demands that I listen. I fish out my phone, intent on dialing my father right then and there.

“He’s not going to admit to it.”

“Oh, yes, he will.” If Kieran is anything, it’s self-righteous. Everything I do—everything I’ve ever done over the years—I’ve done only with your best interest at heart. You know that, right? His words echo in my mind. Is that what Kieran Calloway thought paying the boy I loved to disappear was? In my best interest?

“He doesn’t know I’m working in this building,” Kyle says, more urgently, with worry on his face. “I’m not sure how he’ll react to me showing up here again.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t care about that, then go ahead and tell him.”

If what Kyle says is true, then I have a good idea how my dad will react. Kyle’s ass will be out on the sidewalk by this afternoon.

I tuck my phone away, muttering, “He’s likely on a plane, anyway.” Despite everything, I don’t think there’s a situation where I wouldn’t care what happens to Kyle. I sigh heavily.

“So . . . fifty thousand bucks. That’s my going rate.”

Kyle’s eyes are on the thin navy carpet, as if he can’t face me. “He made it pretty clear that he’d do anything to make sure you and I were done the second you stepped off Wawa property. I think he actually used the words over my dead body. I figured if we were over anyway, that much money would give me and Jeremy a chance to get out of the hole we were living in. So I took it. I thought it was for the best for everyone.”

That is a lot of money for anyone, but especially a seventeen-year-old going back to a roach-infested apartment above a 7-Eleven.

“And your mother? What did she say?”

“About the money?” He lets out a derisive laugh. “I never told her about it. She would have taken it and there was no way I trusted her with that much, not when my dad and brothers were asking for cash. God knows she’d find a way to smuggle it in for them. No . . . I decided that if I was gonna take money from your father, I was gonna make it matter. So I hid it. I used what I needed to get a decent car. We were already getting kicked out of our apartment, so I convinced Mom to go to California. We drove for two days straight, found a cheap apartment down there.” He shrugs. “I told her I earned the money from Wawa.”

“And she believed that?” I ask doubtfully. I remember those pitiful paychecks.

“Of course not. She figured I was doing something shady on the side, but she didn’t ask too many questions. She never did. As long as there was money at the end of it.” There’s no shortage of bitterness in his voice.

I’ve often wondered what kind of woman gave birth to Kyle and his brothers. Now I’m not sure I ever want to find out.

Uncomfortable silence lingers in the room as I try to process this bomb. “So that’s why you disappeared. It wasn’t because . . .” My words drift.

“Because I didn’t care about you?” He looks steadily at me. “No. That’s not why.”

And did you ever stop caring? I bite my tongue on that and ask instead, “My father . . . How do you feel about him?” I can’t even begin to wrap my head around how I feel about him right now, but if what Kyle is saying is true, then I have to wonder if him working here, in my father’s building—having easy access to him—is going to be a problem.

And what happens when my father sees Kyle sitting in the lobby?

What will he do if he recognizes him?

I watch Kyle carefully, to see if I can read the lies in his answer.

He surprises me by smiling softly. “You know, it’s funny—ironic, actually . . . As much as I hated him back then for making me leave you like that,” his somber eyes flash to mine, “that money changed our lives. I got Jeremy away from Poughkeepsie, away from prison, away from all of it, before he could get himself into trouble. A fresh start in San Diego turned out to be the best thing for us. Jer has no interest in getting dragged down with the rest of our family, either.”

“That’s good. I guess.” At least something positive came from my heartbreak.

He opens his mouth to speak but then stops.

I have more questions, but right now I need time to think. I need time to calm this inner turmoil down.

“So . . .” He hesitates, watching me through wary eyes, as if trying to weigh my thoughts. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Until my father recognizes you.”

A grim smile touches his lips. “Right.”

“Don’t worry, though. I’m sure if you play it right, you could make a cool million off him this time around.” I say it flippantly, knowing I don’t need a harsh tone to hit my mark.

The muscles in Kyle’s square jaw tense. He nods once. “Fair enough. I deserved that,” he mutters. “But I promise you, I’m never taking another dime from that man again. And if you want me gone, just say the word. I’ll put in a transfer request. Hell, I’ll quit. It was worth it, just to see you again.” With that, he smoothly exits, leaving the delicate masculine scent of sandalwood and musk trailing behind.

I keep my back to the elevator, waiting for the ping of the doors, a storm of emotions brewing inside me.

Am I even angry with Kyle for taking the money? I can’t imagine what it must have been like, a seventeen-year-old boy facing off with Kieran Calloway, who was basically blackmailing him. What should he have done?

I know what my sixteen-year-old self would have expected him to do—tell my dad to shove the money up his ass. Or take the money and then tell me what my father had done, so we could hide our relationship from him.

How could my father do something like that, in the name of protecting me? I was an emotional wreck in the months after Wawa. I couldn’t get Kyle out of my head. All those nights of falling asleep wrapped in desolation, wondering where Kyle was, what happened to him. Replaying every word, every touch, every promise, wondering what I’d done to make him behave so cruelly toward me. All the anger I learned to wield against happy memories of us, just long enough to help me let go, to heal, to finally move on.

Dad offered me sad smiles and calm hugs, and kept telling me that I was beautiful and smart, and that hooligan didn’t deserve a Calloway.

My teeth are clenched so tight that my jaw begins to ache. I should have known.

Do I confront my father now, though? Or should I wait until he recognizes Kyle and blows up, sends him packing?

Kismet or not, coming to this building was a ballsy move on Kyle’s part, given the risk.

Is he just stupid? Or does he think the risk is worth the potential reward? And what is that reward, exactly? Is it working with me again? A friendship with me?

Or more?

My stomach flutters.

Kyle is single.

He moved here, in part, because he wants to be in my life again.

And the only reason he ever left in the first place is because of my father.

Three truths I need to decide what the hell I’m going to do with.

“You want me to help you poach Jack’s assistant?” I glare at David in disbelief as we ride the elevator down to the lobby. I was almost successful in ducking out without notice, until David came barreling out of the restroom and crossed my path.

“She doesn’t want to work for that stooge,” he argues. “She basically told me as much.”

“No, she did not.” Cheryl is the minutes taker for the Monthly Women’s Network meetings I lead at CG and a sweet, single thirty-eight-year-old mom who I suspect is in love with her boss—our CFO, and a married man. Then again, maybe that’s why she’d want to move desks—unrequited love is unenjoyable, but especially so when you have to face it day in, day out.

“Just ask her, would ya?” David pleads.

“Why me?”

“Because, I can’t! Obviously. Jack would kill me. And you’re . . . you! And a woman, and, I don’t know . . .” He throws his hands up in the air, as if giving up. “It’s what you women do!”

I roll my eyes as the elevator door opens. “See you tomorrow, David.”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He checks his watch. “It’s only three!”

“I have a headache,” I lie, and am saved from further conversation as the elevator doors close, carrying my personal pain-in-the-ass back upstairs. The truth is, I’m going home to curl up under my covers and ponder this morning’s revelations. I’m going home to hide from life, and from my father before he gets back from LA this afternoon, until I decide how best to address his deep betrayal.

“You’re off early for a change,” Gus notes as I push through the security gate, my laptop bag strap already digging into my shoulder.

“Long day.” I steal a glance at Kyle, who’s occupied with a phone call, his free arm settled across his chest, making his bicep bulge. He was lean when I knew him, but far from scrawny. Now, though . . . what would it feel like to smooth my hands over his sculpted body like I used to do?

Kyle is available, that voice in the back of my mind reminds me, and with it brings that familiar flutter in my stomach.

“Nothing like that’s been delivered yet, ma’am,” I hear him say politely, his golden gaze settling on me. “Sure thing. I’ll keep an eye out for that cookie platter . . .” His lips curl into a smile and, for the first time in years, I see it actually reaching his eyes. Reminding me just how much I always loved feeling his smiles on me. “No, I’ll make sure Gus doesn’t eat any of them this time.”

“What’s she goin’ on about! I’ve never stolen anyone’s cookies!” Gus sputters, but it’s followed up with a sheepish grin. “I may have sampled one or two.” He winks at me before his brown eyes shift behind me. “Good to see you again, sir. Hope your trip was successful. Where were you this time?”

“Chicago, to look at an investment property,” comes my dad’s gruff response.

He wasn’t supposed to be back for another hour.

And I thought he was in LA?

My heart begins pounding in my chest as I smooth my expression and turn to meet my father’s stern face.

Is it true? Did you pay Kyle to break my heart?

I’ve always known that there is this hard, controlling side to him. I’ve just been fortunate enough to avoid its wrath. Or so I thought.

“Piper?” He frowns curiously. “You okay?”

I force a smile. I guess this confrontation is happening now after all. Because Kyle is standing right there. The boy he paid off is only a few feet away.

I brace myself, waiting for him to look at Kyle, waiting for those harsh features to scowl with recognition when it clicks.

Dad checks his watch. “You meeting someone?”

“No. Headache.” My blood is racing with the anticipation of what’s to come. What will I do? How will I react?

“Hmmm . . .” His brow furrows. “Go home and get some rest, then.”

“Yeah. That’s the plan.”

He cocks his head curiously at me, but then, as if deciding something, turns his attention away.

To Kyle.

His eyes narrow, and I hold my breath, preparing myself to intervene before my father causes a scene in our building’s lobby.

“There’s a panhandler near the east entrance. I’m assuming you can’t see him on the security feed and that’s why you haven’t done anything about it?”

Kyle averts his gaze to one of the monitors on the desk. “You’re right. He’s in a blind spot.”

“Well, would you please help him relocate? Immediately?”

“Yes, sir,” Kyle says, his eyes still on the screen, his face stoic. Does it burn his pride to call my father sir, I wonder?

Dad’s gaze drifts over Kyle’s sleeve of tattoos, his distaste for them clear. And then he turns to me, dismissing Kyle entirely. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nodding at Gus, he swipes his badge and marches toward the bank of elevators.

Kyle exhales slowly. He meets my eyes and I can see his thoughts in them. They’re the same as mine: Kieran Calloway doesn’t recognize him.

Whether it’s the “Stewart” on his name badge, or thirteen years and thirty pounds of muscle, or simply the fact that Kyle was nothing more than an ant to squash, a pest for my father to swiftly deal with, I can’t say. Likely all of the above.

Either way, Kyle is safe from my father’s ire. For now.

I release a lung’s worth of air, relieved to have bought myself some time to figure out how—and if—to confront him for what he did to us.

“You want to kindly escort our friend to another corner, or should I?” Gus peers up at Kyle.

“I’ve got it,” Kyle murmurs, rounding the desk. “See you tomorrow, Piper?” he asks softly, and I hear the real question behind those words.

Do you want to see me here tomorrow?

All I can manage is a nod.

Because the simple truth is that I do.