Chapter 16 #2
The auditorium isn’t full, but it’s a decent crowd.
Upon closer inspection, mostly friends and family of the Forbeses and Kenyon Riley.
But I spot a photographer and a few journalists I recognize.
That doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure the whole point is to publicize the Forbeses’ generosity.
After a few brief words, mostly about Kyle’s athletic stats in high school, Beck turns the mic over to the waiting doctors.
Watching them approach the lectern hand in hand, with their stiff upper lips, you might easily pity them.
Look at these good people who lost a good son in such a terrible personal tragedy.
If I weren’t one hundred percent certain their utter rejection of who Kyle was—who he wanted to be—played a major part in the spiral he eventually got lost in, I might feel sorry for them too.
But I set all that aside as best I can because it won’t bring Kyle back, and there’s a pit in my stomach reminding me I still need to do my job. Actually, if this didn’t hit so close to home, I might enjoy writing about something other than Unmatched.
I jot down a few pleasant details as they weave a brief tale about Kyle Forbes, the hero, before quickly shifting focus to Kenyon Riley’s achievements and potential.
There is a round of applause, after which Kenyon says a few words about his dreams and ambitions for medicine, which are inspiring, and I decide that’s really all my article needs to be about.
The next thing I know, people are applauding, and Drew is up on stage with his parents, posing for photos and shaking Kenyon’s hand.
The Forbeses’ smiles are all so practiced and plastic, my stomach is starting to feel sick.
Kyle hated that his parents could make themselves look so open, loving, and supportive when they were rarely that way at home.
Someone announces that the ceremony will be followed by light refreshments in the cafeteria, and this seems like a great time for me to jet back to my mom.
Rather than walking up the center aisle to the back of the auditorium with everyone else, I duck out a side door. One I know snakes around by the drama department before emptying back into the main hall.
I’m almost to the front doors, desperate for a clean breath of air, when I hear the soft slap of footsteps coming up behind me. I wince and turn back, ready to apologize to Tania for leaving without saying goodbye. But when I turn, I find myself facing down a storm in Drew Forbes’s eyes.
We both open our mouths, but I shut mine again, deciding it’s best just to leave.
“Where is he?” he says.
I roll my eyes. This guy is like one of those dolls with a string you pull to make them say pre-recorded phrases: You don’t deserve the dog. I hate you. Where is the dog?
“I dropped him at an animal shelter on my way over.” I turn for the exit, but a large hand encircles my arm. Like, my entire bicep.
I freeze, heart pounding like a caught animal, before my brain kicks in and I yank out of his grip. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His eyes go wide, tracking from my arm to his empty hand. Then he pales and steps back. “Nothing.”
I take the opportunity to make for the exit, propelling myself toward the doors.
Until quietly, behind me, I hear, “I just wanted to know—is he okay?”
Somehow, I’m disarmed by the soft concern in his tone. I look back before I can stop myself, and find his eyes warring with emotion. It makes me think of Rufus’s face when I left him today. I swallow hard.
“He’s with my mother, okay?” I’m just trying to say words to appease him, so I can safely leave. But when I note the relief on his face, I add, “I—I took him for a run this morning. It does seem to help.”
He lets out a slow breath, and I frown.
A pair of heels clicks down the hall behind me, but I’m so focused on the enemy in front of me I don’t think to prepare myself for someone worse.
“Drew, I’ve been looking everywhere for—” His mother cuts off her sentence as soon as I turn and we register one another. “Ms. Phipps.”
Somehow, she utters my name as though she’s been bitten.
“Dr. Forbes,” I say.
Drew steps away, closing ranks with his mother.
“I must say I’m shocked to see you here,” she says. “I didn’t think you had any interest in Kyle’s legacy.”
I flinch at her choice of words, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Is that what you’re calling it? I bet Kyle would be shocked too.”
And now it’s clear where Drew Forbes gets his laser glares.
I hold up my notebook, pen, and press pass like I’m Perseus facing Medusa. “Actually, I’m here in a professional capacity.”
She eyeballs my ID with a curling lip. “The Mile High Observer?”
My chest tightens. Just the way it did every time I stood by Kyle’s side, watching her knock him down a peg.
You don’t want to go into medicine? Fine. But if that’s your choice, we’ll give you nothing, and you will be nothing.
“That’s correct. You might remember I’m a journalist.” I clear my throat. “Would you care to make a statement regarding the scholarship you’ve set up in the name of your late son? It’s such an interesting choice, honoring a soldier’s memory by setting up civilian students to go to med school.”
Drew grunts beside her, his expression dark. And in that moment, looking at them standing together, I do pity them. They might be shitty people, but when all is said and done, they lost a son, a brother. That pain has clearly done nothing to soften them, but they’re still grieving, just like me.
“Andrew,” Dr. Forbes says in a tone I haven’t heard since high school. “I need to return to the reception. Please see that Ms. Phipps finds her way out.”
I don’t respond. Just watch her turn on her heel, more relieved with each step she takes away from me. “And to think I never got to call you Mom,” I mutter, finally shoving through the doors into the open air.
I’m hit with a powerful gust of wind when I exit the school. To the west, black clouds are gathering above the mountains, and now I’m sure we’re in for a storm of some kind.
I’m halfway to Lydia’s car before I register Drew behind me, but as soon as I do, my skin prickles and I slide my keychain pepper spray into my hand.
We’re out in the open, but the parking lot is deserted, and I can think of no good reason he’d be following me out here.
I round to the other side of the car, putting the vehicle between us before I whirl to face him.
“What? What else do you and your fucked-up family want?”
He startles, like he wasn’t expecting me to notice a man closing in on me like a predator through the rows of cars. But when our eyes meet, his expression shifts. His mouth presses into a line, then parts again.
“I—” He stops, looking from me back to the school, then down at his hands. “I’m sorry about . . . in there.”
I frown, fingering my keys. That’s literally the last thing I expected from him, and now I have no idea what to say.
“What do you want?” I repeat.
He exhales and digs in his pocket, then holds out a slightly creased business card. “You can call. If you need help. I . . . I just want to protect him.”
I stare at the rectangle with his business name and number, wondering if this is a peace offering or just a new battle maneuver.
But when I finally take it and look up into those achingly familiar green eyes, my face heats.
Suddenly, my heart is pounding in my chest. It doesn’t seem fair that this feels like something I miss.
I lick my lips and refocus, looking for something to anchor my brain because my body is clearly confused.
Then I find it—his glasses. Thank God Drew wears glasses and Kyle sure as hell didn’t.
“Thanks.” I shove the card in my pocket, slide into the SUV, and lock the doors. But by the time I pull out of the parking lot, I’m blinking through tears, remembering the one and only time I spoke to Kyle after he broke my heart.
I’m sorry, Caprice. I just want to protect you.