by Mia Sheridan
"What?" I breathed. "Then who . . . who's paying for it?" Confusion swirled through my mind. What in the world?
She shook her head. "He wouldn't say. He just said he had worked it out with someone who wanted to remain anonymous. He lied. So see, he is capable of lying—even if it's for something that was mostly for us. What else is he capable of lying about? And then he has the gall to ask me to marry him?"
Oh my God. My heart dropped into my feet.
"I have to go," I said, standing up suddenly. "Oh my God, Mar. I have to go."
"Wait. What? Where are you going? I wasn't done drowning my sorrows! Sam's not picking me up for an hour. Sam, remember? Lying, nagging Sam."
"Sam can help you wallow," I said shakily, taking a couple dollars out of my wallet and throwing it on the bar. I knew if she was letting Sam pick her up, she couldn't be all that mad at him. She'd just needed reassurance.
"Your money's no good here," Al said, swiping up my money and putting it in his tip jar anyway.
I turned toward Marlo, taking her shoulders in my hands and shaking her slightly.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaking along with her body.
"I'm shaking some sense into you," I said.
"Wait, you're the one with the motto—"
"Screw my motto. Screw your motto. Talk to him, Mar. Let him explain. Listen to him and stop being so damn hardheaded. He might hurt you. But he might not. He might not. I'm placing my bets on Sam. And I love you more than anyone in this world. I would only ever bet in your favor. Stop letting the past control you—look at what's right in front of you." I let go of her shoulders, squeezed her tightly, and kissed her on her cheek as she gaped at me. "Look at what's right in front of you." I ran out to my car, tore out of the parking lot, and pulled onto the highway. I forced myself to take several deep breaths. My hands clenched the wheel as I tried to get my thoughts straight.
Oh, Kyland.
Tears sprung to my eyes as the truth slammed into my chest, making me feel weak and breathless. Oh my God. Oh my God.
Kyland, you stupid, prideful, beautiful, selfless man.
A small sob came up my throat, but I swallowed it down and again, forced myself to relax.
I was right. I knew I was right. It all suddenly clicked into place. All—
As I turned to drive up the hill, my car sputtered and lurched before it died. I let out a frustrated cry as I maneuvered it to the side of the road. I turned the key in the ignition, but the engine wouldn't turn over. I let my head fall to the wheel, banging it lightly several times. Well, there went my car luck. My heart was pounding in my chest as I jumped out and started running.
This was just like that day, the day I'd run up this very hill, my heart beating triple time, my love for Kyland beating out of my chest.
I looked at the rock I'd sat on to make that stupid, stupid list, letting out a small sob as I raced past it.
Kyland, Kyland, Kyland.
What did you do?
God, what did you do?
Go to hell. I do. Every day. For you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kyland
I jolted as a loud banging sounded from my front door. What the hell? I assumed it was one of the hill folk, but why they were pounding like that, I didn't know. I put my paperwork aside and started for my bedroom to get a shirt. I had only put on jeans after my shower. But when the banging grew more insistent, I swore under my breath and turned toward the door. When I pulled it open, surprise caught in my chest. It was Tenleigh and she was standing there, obviously out of breath, wearing dark jeans and a white top that scooped down, showing a glimpse of cleavage. She must have changed from earlier that day. She was so beautiful. My body surged to life in response. But when I met her eyes, and they suddenly filled with tears, my blood instantly cooled and I took a step forward. She held up her hand and took a big, shuddery breath.
"You won that scholarship." She shook her head. "I didn't win it, you did."
I froze, and my breath hitched. We simply stared at each other for what felt like a long time. Finally, I managed, "How'd you know?"
She sagged against the doorframe, her face contorting as if she was going to sob. "You just told me."
I stared at her, not knowing what to say. Denying it now seemed pointless.
Christ. She was never, ever supposed to know that. Ever.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and stood looking at her as she gathered herself together. When she finally spoke, she said simply, "Why?"
I shrugged as if it was simple, because when you got right down to it, it was. "Because I loved you so desperately. I still do. Because I couldn't leave you here."
**********
Four Years Earlier
"Kyland Barrett?" I rubbed my sweaty palms down my jean-clad thighs and stood up.
"Yes," I said way too quickly
The secretary, a young woman with long blonde hair, smiled at me as her eyes slid down my body. I was dressed terribly for this classy, impeccably designed office. I had been afraid to sit down on the light gray couch, worried I'd get some kind of smudge on it. It's not like I could do anything about that, though. The only clothes I had were old and worn and had been used not only to attend school in, but to collect metal, trap badgers, collect wild grapes . . .
"Mister Kearney will see you now," she said as I offered her a small, tight smile.
"Thank you."
She walked ahead of me down a long hallway, her hips swaying. Our footsteps were soundless on the plush gray carpeting. On the clean, white walls were old-fashioned black and white pictures of what must have been the very early days of the coal mines—men in overalls and coal dust blackened faces standing unsmiling at the entrance, having obviously just emerged from the dark earth.
The secretary stopped at a door at the end of the hall and opened it, gesturing me inside. I nodded and walked past her into Edward Kearney's office. The door closed with a soft click behind me.
"Did you forget to ask me something about the scholarship last night?" Edward Kearney said before he used the golf club in his hand to hit the ball on the floor at his feet. I watched the golf ball travel down the green portion of carpet and clunk softly into the hole at the far end. I cleared my throat.
"I did, Sir." He turned to me, leaning on his golf club. "I, uh, I'm sorry. It was a surprise and I wasn't prepared. I didn't know you'd come to my home to tell me about the scholarship, and I wasn't thinking clearly."
He furrowed his thick black brows. "Weren't thinking clearly about what?"
"About the fact that I can't take it. I want to transfer it to someone else."
He laughed, a sharp, surprised sound. "Why would you want to do that?"
I ran my hand through my hair. "I have my own reasons for that, Sir, but I figured if I won it, it's mine to give to someone else if I choose to."
When Edward Kearney had shown up at my house the night before, I'd been shocked, almost rendered speechless. I had no idea he came to inform the recipient of his or her win in person. I hadn't been ready. But as soon as he'd left, as soon as that fancy black car had pulled away from my house, I'd gotten myself together and prepared the words I needed to say. And so here I was.
Edward Kearney chuckled and turned to walk back to his desk. He leaned against it, crossing his arms over his broad, barrel chest. He was silent, both of us staring at each other. His black hair, sprinkled liberally with gray, had a straight, severe part down the side. His suit was obviously expensive and tailor-made, his shoes polished to a high mirror shine. I straightened my spine and didn't look away. His eyes narrowed, but there was some kind of recognition in his expression as he took me in.
"You can't transfer the scholarship. You were admitted to Columbia University—and you accepted. The scholarship you won is being processed to pay that school."
I closed my eyes briefly. Columbia University. For a second, a fierce longing squeezed my gut. But then I pictured Tenleigh with her black eye,
the defeated expression in her eyes. I thought about Shelly and the defeated expression on her face when she'd told me she was pregnant by some nameless trucker who wouldn't take no for an answer. This town was tough on men, but it was even tougher on the women, and that was the simple truth. There was no way I could take Tenleigh with me. I didn't have the money for a plane ticket, an apartment for her, hell, even for more than a few meals. And if I left for four years, earned a degree, what would happen to Tenleigh in that time? Would the defeat become part of her like it did to so many in these coal mine towns? Would the poverty slowly chip away at that beautiful spirit? The beautiful spirit of the woman I loved with my whole heart? How could I leave her here when I couldn't protect her? I couldn't. It would kill me.
"Please, there must be something that can be done? Some paperwork that could just be transferred? No one knows I won yet. It could be done. The person I want to transfer it to is on the list of finalists, Tenleigh Falyn."
He cocked his head to the side, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. "I saw where you live. I saw the life you lead. I came from circumstances just like yours. That picture over there," he pointed to a photo on the wall of a small, crumbling shack, "that's a picture of where I grew up. I had to claw and fight for every inch I received in life. I know it's the same for you. I'd never give up what I had to fight for . . . for anyone. You shouldn't either. Especially not some damn woman."
We're not the same, you and I. We're nothing alike.
"She's not just some woman, Sir. She's more than that. To me, she's everything."
He laughed, but it sounded cold. "Clearly." He considered me for another minute before he continued. "Unlike you, I'm not a man who does something for nothing. That's why I'm standing behind this desk," he walked around the large, mahogany piece of furniture and placed his fingertips on the inlaid leather top, "and you're standing on the other side of it begging me for my help in a pair of shoes that wore out two years ago. That's not how I got to be where I am today. I never give anything away for free. Am I clear? If I do this, I'll expect to be compensated."
"You're part of giving out a very generous scholarship every year. That's—"
"PR, son. Tyton Coal took a hit when the Dennville mine cave-in happened. Things like this encourage people to forget. People forget, stock goes back up. I become a very rich man."
Bastard. How had anyone ever wanted this man?
I took a deep breath, forcing the rage back down my throat. "Please, Sir. I'll do anything. If you'll help me, I'll do anything. I'll pay you back. I'll set up some kind of payment plan. Anything."
He considered me for so long, I began to think he wouldn't answer at all.
"You'll work for me. I'm short on below ground miners. I'm always short on below ground miners. You sign a contract to work for me for the four years Tenleigh's in school and I'll have the scholarship transferred to her, the housing, everything."
Fear slammed into my chest and I almost stumbled back. Below ground miner. I couldn't do that. It was the one thing I couldn't do. The only thing I couldn't do. And then how would I eventually make my way to where she was? If I was here . . . stuck . . . again.
Tenleigh.
Tenleigh.
"I'll do it," I croaked out. "You have a deal."
His face spread into a slow smile. "Figure you at least have the blow job of your life coming for this one. If she's anything like her batshit crazy mother, it might even be worth it." He laughed as if we were friends. He laughed as if there were anything remotely funny about that.
My jaw tightened and I fisted my hands down by my sides. I shook my head. "I'm not telling her. She can't know. She'll never let me do this if she knows. She won't take it. Tenleigh, she—" I stopped talking. She's fierce. She's loyal. She's a fighter. She smells like wildflowers and mixes mountain talk with SAT words. And she's so unbelievably beautiful. But I wasn't going to give this pig anything of Tenleigh. "She can't know," I finished.
"Relax. It was a joke, son." I stood there, unsmiling, letting him know I hadn't found it funny. "I'd prefer her not know anyway," he continued. "Or anyone for that matter. I don't want it getting out that the scholarship is transferrable, under any circumstances. So let's keep this between you and me. You keep it quiet, you sign a contract to work for me, and the scholarship goes to her. You quit, you die, the scholarship is rescinded. Are we clear, son?"
Stop calling me son, you piece of shit. I'm the son of a man who worked himself to the bone, day in and day out for the piddly salary you paid him. He went deep into the dark earth every day for his family, for pride, because he'd do anything for those he loved. That's the blood I have coursing through my veins. I am not your son. I'm Daniel Barrett's son.
"We have a deal. I'll work for you. I won't tell her."
"What are you going to do? How are you going to keep it from her?" he asked with interest.
"I'm going to break both our hearts." My voice sounded dead even to my own ears.
He stood looking at me for another second as if I was some form of alien that had come down from a distant planet. Finally, he held out his hand. I walked forward and grasped it. We shook. It was done. I felt as if I'd just made a deal with the devil. And now I was going to hell.
**********
Tenleigh stood in my doorway, moving her head from side to side. She opened her mouth once to speak, but then snapped it closed. "Can I come in?" she asked. I hesitated.
"Tenleigh, my house, it doesn't look so nice."
"None of our houses look nice."
"I know, but what I mean—"
"Let me in, Ky." Her voice was weak.
Shit. As I drew in a much-needed breath, I felt ashamed she would see what my place had become—or rather, what it had not. But it was time to own up to what I'd done. I moved aside and she passed in front of me. I shut the door and turned to her as she looked around. I never bought new furniture or a stove. The pipe still hung from the ceiling like a daily reminder of the life I never got to live. I never unpacked the boxes I'd packed almost four years ago. I still didn't even have a bed. I slept on the floor in a pile of blankets, a couple space heaters nearby to keep me alive in the winter. There were containers sitting everywhere to catch the water that leaked from the roof.
But for all that I didn't have, I had plenty of books—piled everywhere, all with little white slips of paper sticking out of them.
Tenleigh brought her hands up over her mouth as she looked around. "Why?" she started and then stopped, looking around some more. "Why are you living like this?" A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Don't cry, Tenleigh." I reached up and swiped the tear with my thumb, brushing it aside. "This is nothing to cry about. It's my choice. And it wasn't going to be forever . . . just until . . ."
"Just until what?" she whispered.
I ran my eyes over her features, her expression filled with sadness. "Just until I could come find you. Just until I left here to find you, and beg you to forgive me. Wherever you were, that's where I was going to go."
She sucked in a big breath and brought her hands over her mouth again. "Oh my God. But I came back." She started to cry. "I came back."
I moved forward and wrapped my arms around her. I felt the wetness of her tears against my bare skin. "Shh, you came back to help kids who grew up just like us. It's a good thing, Ten. It's a heroic thing."
She tipped her head back and looked up at me. "Why didn't you come find me sooner, Ky. Why?"
I shook my head and looked out the window behind her. "Because I made a deal and I couldn't break it. In order to transfer that scholarship to you, I signed a deal. If I broke the deal, you lost your scholarship. Truthfully, I don't know if Edward really would have rescinded it if I quit. But I couldn't risk it."
"What? No," she choked out. "You made a deal to work at the mine?"
I nodded. "I had to. It was the only way Edward Kearney would agree to transfer the scholarship. But it was my choice. I wanted to do it."
Her eyes flared and she pulled her shoulders back. "I wouldn't have let you if I knew." Her face was a study in intensity. Tenleigh. Fierce girl. "I would never have let you go down in that mine for me if I had known. Not in a million years. Never."
"I know, Ten," I said softly. "Don't you think I knew that? But I also knew if you hated me, you'd leave here and wouldn't look back. You wouldn't even have to know."
Her beautiful, expressive eyes were brimming with anguished tears. This girl. "That's why you lied. So I wouldn't stop you. So I wouldn't give up the scholarship to keep you from doing what you planned to do."
I released a hiss of breath. "Maybe it was wrong. I've tried to consider a million different ways I could have done something different, achieved the same result without you getting hurt, but . . . I did the best I could under pressure, without very much time to consider all the possibilities. I couldn't figure out a way to fight for us, and so that was my way of fighting for you. And in the end, you got out of here and earned your degree. And so I can't dwell on it anymore. I can't lie here night after night and torture myself. I made the choice I made and I just hope . . . I hope someday you can forgive me. I'll do anything if you'll just forgive me, Tenleigh. Anything."
"Oh, Kyland." She shook her head back and forth. She was crying outright now and my heart was beating triple time in my chest. She still hadn't told me she forgave me, or that she still loved me. But I was willing to wait. I pulled her to me again and I kissed the top of her head, smiling and repeating her name.
We stood there holding each other for a long time. I breathed in her scent and let my heart rejoice at the feel of her in my arms, willingly and completely. I never dared to dream she'd be in my arms this way again.
"Those slips of paper," she said after a while, "are those for me?"