“Who wouldn’t be if they came somewhere hoping to see me in all my glory and didn’t get to?” Aiden shrugged. “Whatever her expectations were, it’s not my problem.”
Coach wielded truth like one of her beloved sabers. “She didn’t have any expectations. She’s married. She has kids. She just wanted to see you, because you mean something to her. When I went to talk to her last year, she said she didn’t want to annoy you. I was the one who told her you’d be happy if she approached you.”
That was… a different situation than the one he’d assumed.
Sometimes, when Aiden felt the impulse to act on all his worst instincts, he thought, Would Harvard be disappointed in you if you did that? And then he didn’t do it, whatever it was.
It had never occurred to Aiden that anyone else cared enough to be disappointed in him.
Disappointment was in Coach’s usually twinkling brown eyes now. “I always thought you were a good kid at heart. Careless, but careless isn’t the same as cruel. Tell me, Aiden. Was I wrong about you?”
Oddly, it wasn’t Coach’s eyes or the echo of a woman’s voice or even the thought of Harvard that changed his mind. It was that when Aiden turned away from Coach, his roving gaze fell on the stage where he’d stood, gleaming and empty, and he thought, Do you want to put on a show for the rest of your life?
Aiden threw down the bag and his épée, and ran. Out through the double doors, down the flight of stone steps, and into the parking lot crowded with shining cars that would soon speed away.
She hadn’t got into her car yet. She was standing with her shoulders stiff under a thick camel coat, her hand braced against the door. He noticed the wedding ring on it now, and the way her knuckles went pale on the handle before she turned and faced him.
Aiden’s lungs were burning from his sprint. His hair had come loose again, flying strands suddenly a wild snarl getting in his eyes, and he was still wearing an open fencing uniform, his plastron lost somewhere in the town hall. He must look absolutely ridiculous. The wind had its freezing-cold claws curled in around the open jacket, he was breathing raggedly, and he didn’t know if he had a best friend to return to. All these years trying not to break, and he would anyway. It might as well be now.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aiden gasped. “Rosina, I’m sorry. Of course I remember you.”
The golden clock hands cut time like swords. She stood unmoving, watching Aiden in the clear cold light of day. It was just the two of them in the parking lot, with no audience left to impress, and Aiden knew the way he’d acted was unforgivable, that he would always mess up when it truly mattered, that every time he’d been abandoned, he’d deserved it.
Then she lifted a hand to his face and smiled.
“Look at you, Aiden,” said Rosina, in her familiar beautiful voice, speaking as if she were singing to him again. “You got so tall. And you’re still so cute.”
They talked for a long time, standing there in the parking lot. Rosina gave him her number and offered to give him a lift anywhere he wanted to go. Aiden said he’d walk back home.
“I mean to Kings Row,” said Aiden, grinning reassuringly when a flash of alarm crossed Rosina’s face. “School. That’s home.”
It always had been, since Harvard had said he wanted them to go there together. Home was wherever Harvard was, if Aiden could live there, too.
“I’m glad you like it at school,” Rosina told him. “I’m sure you have a lot of friends. Is there a special friend?”
“Yeah,” Aiden answered. “There is.”
Rosina smiled. “I’d like to meet them someday. Are you sure I can’t take you to the gates?”
“I’m sure,” said Aiden.
Several times over the years, Harvard had reached out to one stepmother or another on Aiden’s behalf, trying to form a connection between them. Harvard always did this from loving concern, but it humiliated Aiden. He didn’t want to be seen as begging for love he would never get. He didn’t want any of them to know that he minded when they left. What was the point? They would still leave. Everybody always left. There was no way to stop them. The only thing Aiden could do was protect himself.
Aiden never bothered to try at all, but Harvard always tried so hard, for them both.
There was no way to prevent Harvard from trying without telling him the truth: Nobody’s ever going to love me but you, and I know even you will leave me someday.
Maybe that wasn’t true. For the first time, Aiden felt ready to hope for something more.
For the first time, Aiden wanted to be honest about what he wanted. A plan was forming like a path opening up before him.
He intended to walk through the woods, clear his head, and practice what he was going to say. He would make his own way back to Kings Row, the school he’d chosen with Harvard.
He was going home, and for once in his life, he would tell Harvard the whole truth.
I love you. I always have. Today, for the first time, I hope that I might be enough.
28: SEIJI
Seiji was not having a good day.
He felt he’d been horribly misled by Eugene. He’d trusted him to be correct in his reading of social dynamics, but as it emerged, him was an imbecile, Nicholas hadn’t even been upset, and the whole prank had been an exercise in futility. As the illicit brown sugar sprinkled on this oatmeal of horror, he’d been hauled around like a deeply shamed sack of potatoes by weight lifters.
Seiji wasn’t sure he could look anyone at Kings Row in the face right now. Any escape from their watching eyes and embarrassing congratulations was welcome.
The last time Seiji’d been in the woods, he’d gotten lost in them. Seiji headed into the trees now, hoping he could again.
Perhaps by the time he found his way back, everybody would have forgotten about the prank.
He feared not.
Seiji stalked through the woods and brooded over the horrors of the past few days.
This whole business had been unspeakably humiliating, and worst of all, sooner or later he would have to face Nicholas. There was no way to avoid it unless Seiji took to wearing the shower curtain draped in the center of their room over his head. Seiji had made himself appear ridiculous. Nicholas was going to laugh at him. Seiji was not looking forward to that last humiliation.
He’d been through too much already. He remembered when he’d called his father on the day of the fair. He’d been slightly embarrassed making the call. He didn’t like taking up too much of his father’s time. His father always answered his calls, but Seiji knew he was a busy man and he didn’t want to bother him.
After waiting for his father’s secretary to connect them, and making their greetings, he’d explained: “I am calling because I have a certain situation regarding a friend I would appreciate your help with.”
His father had sighed. “Ah, I should have known this was about Jesse. Well, if you feel that Exton is the right move for you after all, I won’t stand in your way, Seiji. Your mother and I never have, I hope you’ll—”
“This isn’t about Jesse,” Seiji had told him impatiently. “Why must everyone talk to me about Jesse? Not everything is about Jesse.”