He holds his hands up in front of him and says, “I don’t want to fight.”
Well, that derails every defensive thought in my head.
I blink. “What?”
“Could we talk?”
He starts moving before I have the chance to answer, heading away from the trail and into the shadows between the library and the science building. He could probably stab me and run off before any witnesses could see, but whatever it is exactly that’s different about him has me following him anyway.
When he turns back to face me and I find myself standing closer to him, I see it more clearly.
There are dark circles beneath his eyes, his head bowed in resignation. There’s no trace of his usual arrogance, more like a hopeless indifference. It’s almost scary to see coming from Pierce.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
That’s even scarier.
I stare at him, waiting for the twist, the punchline, the smugness or the anger.
It doesn’t come.
“For the way I treated you.” He shifts on his feet, his jaw ticking like the words taste strange coming out of his mouth. “I was an asshole. I know that. I’m not…proud of it.”
This isn’t the same Pierce who shoved me in the study hall, who sneered at me for liking guys, who laughed with his friends while I wiped blood from my lip.
I don’t know who this is, but it’s notthatPierce.
He glances around like he’s making sure no one’s listening, then meets my gaze again.
“I’m sorry about my dad too.” He swallows hard, his voice cracking. “The cops told us what happened. My mom’s in denial, but…”
But the whole town knows the truth now.
“But I believe it. I believeyou. I know what you did was self-defense, and I’m not going to blame you for something he caused. I know he…” He shakes his head and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I know he wasn’t a good man.”
I think I’ve figured it out.
This is the Pierce who’s had to take a good long look in the mirror after coming to terms with the kind of man his father was.
He seems tired. Older. Like the past week aged him.
He looks…breakable.
He won’t quite meet my eyes now. His hands keep flexing at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to run or hit something or hold onto something. I can’t tell which.
Maybe this is where I’m supposed to apologize. But I can’t. I meant what I told Isaac right after it happened.
I’m not sorry.
After over twenty years of preying on young men, abusing them…
He deserved what he got.
Again, Pierce swallows, and his gaze flicks up to mine. In that split second, I see everything he’s trying to hide. Fear. Shame. Desperation.
And then he finally says what it all boils down to.
“I don’t want to be like him.”
