49. Ciaran

49

CIARAN

I didn't realize how stiff my muscles were until I started explaining everything to Matty. As my story unfolded, my insides felt as twisted and twined as a tightrope holding up the entire world. At least, that's how it felt to me.

Matty slowed down as we drove beneath the bright lights of Vegas that hung overhead like neon beacons and signposts directing everyone toward their entertainment of choice.

Even in the middle of the night, Sin City was too bright, too optimistic, for the dark thoughts swirling in my mind.

Tonight, however, Vegas would not be one of entertainment. I was not coming home. It was about getting to the bottom of secrets and lies.

"Ever since I was six years old, I've dreamt of becoming a writer," I told Matty. "That's not a secret, of course. My favorite author in the entire world is Emily Alsobrooks. When I was six, I started reading the Claymourn Chronicles series, which is her long-running collection of stories about the Wise Owl Priestess Persephone who counsels the brash, but young Baron Barry Claymourn as he grows into his powers. Alsobrooks has written twenty-four books now in the series. I don't expect you to understand, but that series changed my life and set me on a path toward writing."

"I understand," Matty said softly.

"UCLA has been my dream school because that's where my dad went to college. Last year, Emily Alsobrooks started teaching creative writing at UCLA as an emeritus professor. It felt like fate, you know? I knew getting into her program would be fierce. I had no illusions I'd ever be accepted."

"But you did get in," Matty cut in. "The letter clearly states you've been accepted into UCLA's early program."

"Matty," I explained with a touch of exasperation in my voice. He wasn't getting it. "I didn't apply. I'm a junior in high school. I won't start applying to colleges until after summer. Colleges don't send acceptance letters until later in our senior year."

"Oh. I think I'm starting to understand." Matty's expression grew self-conscious. "My dad hired someone to complete my college applications for me. All I cared about was swimming. I didn't pay attention to anything else."

Of course he did , I wanted to say, but refrained. It only reinforced how alien Matty's world was from mine, but that wasn't the source of my problems. Plus, I didn't want to put Matty on the defensive.

"Can I ask you something before you continue?" Matty said.

"Sure."

"Did you start school late? At eighteen, I thought you'd be a senior?"

Matty pulled into the garage for The Towers and navigated the Ferrari down one level to a special access lane designated for those who owned units within the building. The penthouse unit had ten oversized parking spaces along the far wall. Every spot was empty, so Matty snagged the first one. The bay was otherwise full of luxury vehicles and black sedans. Vegas's crème de la crème lived here.

"When my dad died, I was in first grade. I guess I didn't react well. Honestly, I don't remember much. All I know is that Mom and Grandpa Tommy pulled me out of school for the remainder of the year and I had to repeat it. I've been a year older than all my classmates and friends since the start."

"I'm sorry that happened. Thanks for telling me. I'd been wondering."

"You mean you haven't been freaking out over dating a junior in high school, Matty?"

"Maybe a little," he said sheepishly. Matty killed the engine but neither of us moved to exit the vehicle. I hadn't told Matty where I wanted to go tonight, but given that The West Flamingo was next door, I didn't feel the need to elaborate. "But not anymore. I didn't mean to hijack your story."

"No, it's okay," I said as we faced each other. "Anyway, Mom and I lived month to month. Things weren't good. Mom didn't conceal from me that the deli wasn't making a profit anymore and she was having a difficult time making payroll. In the end, it was just me, my mom, and two other part-time employees. Mom was running herself ragged for a business that she didn't even love. Our main saving grace was that Grandpa Tommy owned the apartment above the deli, which Mom inherited when he died, so at least we had a place to live, and if things got worse, we could eat sandwiches until we were blue in the face."

Matty's strong hands wrapped around mine and in that moment I felt safe and secure. I didn't know how I would feel once I confronted Drew—provided he even opened his door—but I was thankful that Matty was with me. Matty was not a selfless person, but he'd driven me over three hundred miles without once demanding a reason why.

That had to mean something. Love? Lust? What? I wasn't ready to confront those feelings at the moment.

"Mom knew my dream," I said. "She also knew we could never afford UCLA. Our plan was to apply for financial aid and pray for a scholarship, but the truth is, we just didn't know. And you know what? I would have been okay no matter what. Community college was never out of the question. I could knock out credits and save up for UCLA."

Matty nodded. "And you just learned you'd gotten into UCLA without ever applying," Matty said. "So what happened?"

"Do you remember the special courier letter that Miss Paulina delivered yesterday morning?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I forgot all about it. My high school counselor texted to congratulate me on my acceptance. Naturally, I was confused. When I opened the mail, I found the acceptance letter, which made no sense considering I hadn't actually applied. While you were having dinner with Zoey, I called my counselor. He was rather elusive, and suggested I call my mom to get details."

"Did you?"

"I did. Given the time difference, she and Stefon were asleep, but my repeated calling finally got through to her. She couldn't tell that I was upset. She was so happy that I'd been accepted into UCLA, and even confessed that it was one of the reasons she agreed to Stefon's proposal."

I watched Matty's face as he took in these details. His jaw clenched.

"My dad dangled your college education as part of his marriage proposal, didn't he?" He paused. "I mean, I'm not surprised, especially if it was something she revealed to him. I'm not saying it's right," he added before I could argue with him. "But my dad's the type who'd do everything he could to make his match advantageous for her. If that meant getting you into UCLA, my dad has the means and connections to make that happen. I'm living proof of that. I'm a good swimmer but my grades aren't exactly stellar. The admissions team probably had your name on the roster before our parents even said, ‘I Do'."

I sensed he still wasn't understanding my problem with the arrangement.

"I didn't get into the program on my own merit, Matty. I was accepted because of the Vaulteneau name and money. I feel so conflicted about that. On one hand, it's everything I've ever wanted. On the other, someone else made the decision for me without consulting me. It's like…" I paused, trying to find the right words. "It's like I'm not in control of my own life. I suddenly moved away from the only home I'd ever known. I left all my friends behind. I feel unmoored, like at any minute the floor will be yanked out from underneath me. That each step is fraught with uncertainty."

Matty nodded and his eyes bloomed with fuller understanding.

"That's…" Matty started. "That's a lot of change in a short amount of time. When you factor in your mom's reasoning, and the fact that she didn't consult you, I understand why it's upsetting you. It's hard to find meaning when everything is chaotic. I'd be upset, too. I am so sorry. I'm also sorry for being dimwitted and not comprehending what you were trying to explain to me."

"Thanks," I said with a watery smile. "If it's any consolation, I don't think you're always dimwitted."

Matty let out a soft laugh before turning serious. "I have one question, though."

"What?"

"You said you wanted to come here to confront the man who orchestrated everything." Matty's voice was cautious, as if he was afraid to know the truth. Or maybe he was nervous to ask it aloud. "Who is he and how did he orchestrate it?"

My face felt hot as I attempted to answer. There was no easy way to explain that I was involved with a trusted adult who took advantage of me, but who also somehow knew a billionaire and strategically introduced my mom to that billionaire.

That alone had me questioning everything I knew.

Who was Drew?

How did he know Stefon Vaulteneau in the first place?

Taking a deep breath, I said, "His name is Drew." I braced myself for Matty's shock or wrath. He'd recognize the name. When it didn't come, it gave me the strength to continue. I was so sure my shame was emitting from me like beads of sweat. "He's my…high school counselor. And…I know you probably thought Drew was another student, but he's not and, well," I said, biting my lip and tasting blood, "we were sort of together but not together. It's confusing and I'm not even sure what was real and what was not real. Things got heated. I don't want to lie to you about that. It makes me feel icky, but sometimes…" I closed my eyes. I couldn't look Matty in the face. You can do this, Ciaran. Matty cares about you. "Sometimes, I wanted it to happen. Like, I knew it was wrong, and I knew I shouldn't want my teacher to touch me like that, but I responded to him like I was starving for affection. Drew offered what I craved." Matty squeezed my hands even tighter and I braved glancing at him. Tears swam in his stormy eyes. "You're probably disgusted with me and I don't blame you." I felt wetness on my cheek. I didn't even know I was crying. "I'm disgusted with myself. There are days I want to scrub my skin raw and boil myself in hot water, and even then I don't think it would be enough to make the self-loathing go away."

I stopped talking. My throat was working, clenching. My chest constricted, like my lungs were suddenly deflating. If I wasn't careful, I was going to hyperventilate.

So I focused on taking slow, measured breaths.

"Ciaran," Matty started. There was a hitch in his voice. The compassion in his eyes nearly undid me. There was also anger brewing in his tense jaw. I could tell he wasn't mad at me. He was very, very angry at Drew. "I could never be disgusted with you. Ever. Ever ," he repeated as he cupped my face with his gentle hands. Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead. "You are not to blame here. Your high school counselor, who I presume is an adult, is completely at fault."

"Thank you," I whispered because I didn't know if I could talk without breaking down.

"I…" he said, pausing for the right words. He pressed his forehead to mine. "I…think I understand your range of emotions about your contact with him and I have to suspect that that's normal. You were drawn to someone who made you feel good about yourself while combining it with touches that also felt good. We're human, Ciaran. We respond to pleasure even when it comes from an inappropriate source. Those lines can get blurry, especially when you trusted him and believed his affections came from a place of honesty and truth. You're such an amazing person and I'm half in love with you already. You deserve love and healthy relationships, both romantic and platonic. I'm so sorry you went through all of that, feeling alone in your thoughts, without anyone to confide in. I'm so sorry that you felt like you were to blame. I'll listen to you, no matter what. Call, text, or shake me awake. I don't care if it's four in the morning and I have a swim competition in three hours. If you need me, I will always be there for you."

Without warning, Matty pulled me into a hug so tight, my ribs compressed to make room for him pulling me even tighter into his embrace. The interior for the Ferrari was already very small, so there wasn't much room for movement, but that didn't deter him.

"Also," Matty added in my ear. "Drew is a dead man."

When we drew apart, his warm lips pressed gently against mine. It wasn't hurried, nor was it sexual. It was reassurance that he found me attractive. That he wasn't disgusted with me. That he still wanted me. That I was worthy of defending.

I didn't know I needed that reassurance until I realized what he was giving me.

I needed to know I wasn't broken.

I needed to see that I was worthy of love and affection.

Matty's soft, gentle kiss told me all of that without a single word being spoken.

After several moments, I voiced my last bit of information, because I wasn't finished.

"The reason I asked you to drive me to Las Vegas is because Mom revealed that Drew is the one who introduced her to Stefon." The sudden alteration in Matty's expression was alarming, but I didn't understand it. "I want to confront him because I believe it was his intent to set them up. I don't know if he knew they'd get married . From what you've indicated, Stefon wasn't the marrying type."

Matty ran a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath.

"Drew," I continued, "stopped answering my texts and refused to answer my calls. That means he's hiding something. I've come to get answers, one way or another. But…" I hesitated.

Maybe I wasn't ready to confront Drew. Maybe I was the one who was scared. I knew that once I saw Drew, I'd be a mess afterwards. I'd be no help for Matty when he needed my help in retrieving the statue.

"But, what?" Matty asked carefully, as if I might drop additional bombs.

"Life and death are more important than unravelling this mystery. Let's resolve the statue issue first. Then we'll head over to The West Flamingo to extract answers from Drew."