But he needed to see Elyxandre. Hold her in his arms. Tell her he’d fallen for her and that no way was he keeping them a secret. What the hell were they worried about with people knowing? How stupid to stress about what other people would think, or to worry about what other people imagined? That was their problem, not Elyxandre’s or his.
By then, he found himself at the end of the row of shelving. He still hadn’t heard any noise, other than what he thought he heard when he first started moving to the end of the aisle. Heart racing, brow sweating, he considered his options as he scanned the space in front of him that he could see.
Nothing. Just looming shadows, outlines of boxes and shelves.
He squinted. Was that a person standing down the way, or was that a coatrack with items hanging off it?
What if he just made a run for the door? What were the odds that Judah had left? That the door was open? If he hadn’t left, was he past Lucas, and would there be enough time to get to thedoor before he rounded on him and shot him? Normally, he was not an indecisive man, but there was a lot riding on his actions.
He vaguely heard the sound of a door opening and shutting in the distance, as if it hadn’t been opened or closed in some time, and the wood had swollen to fit the door too tightly. He couldn’t place which door it was that he heard, but he knew it wasn’t in the attic itself.
Cautiously, he stuck his head out from the shelves. Thinking hard, he strained to hear any further movement, but there was nothing. Wait. Did he just hear a creak of wood? Where would someone be stepping on wood?
Then it hit him. Someone was in the grid just below the attic. The theatre teacher had shown up at the school board meeting last month, asking them to consider replacing the old, rickety catwalks with newer, metal walkways and better guardrails. She cited the safety of the students, as well as concern about a fire breaking out with all the lighting units and old electrical outlets that needed fixing.
Was the person in the grid Judah? If yes, why? They were totally open to view, and he clearly wasn’t there.
As he stood there, listening to someone stealthily walking the boards, he wasn’t paying attention to what was around him. Suddenly, he heard the click of a safety.
“You should have stayed hidden, Dr. Vaughn.”
He swallowed tightly. Raising his hands to show that he didn’t have a weapon, he turned slowly to avoid spooking the boy.
Judah stood about ten feet away, facing outward from two aisles over, his gun pointed directly at Lucas. If he pulled the trigger, he wouldn’t miss. And if Judah was here, that meant someone else was on the catwalk. But who?
“Judah. Please. Let’s talk about this. I hate seeing you hurting so badly.”
It wasn’t a lie. He did hate knowing that one of his students was in so much pain that he’d resort to something like this. How did someone get to this stage? How many people ignored the warning signs? Because there would have been signs.
People didn’t just snap, despite the world at large wanting to believe that was possible. He understood the sentiment. It was easier to accept that someone was simply fine and then wasn’t—because if there were signs that someone was breaking down, admitting you saw them and did nothing, or that you missed seeing them, implied you were guilty by association. It wasn’t that people were insensitive. It was that people were often so caught up in the day-to-day drama of their own lives that they just didn’t pay attention to others as much as they should.
Clearly, he was guilty of that himself since he found himself here, held at gunpoint by one of his students, who he had believed to be one of the most mature and put-together kids in the entire school.
However, he also knew that when you saw someone day in and day out, the changes in them were often so tiny, they were difficult to pick up, like someone’s height. You didn’t notice your child’s incremental growth because you saw them every day. But if you lived across the country and hadn’t seen someone for a while, then the next time you saw the child a year later, you’d be surprised by how tall they’d gotten.
Granted, he hadn’t seen Judah every day this summer, but he’d been around at least once a week because he was friends with Ezra. Guilt hit hard, though, that he’d been so caught up in his promotion and personal problems that he missed Judah crying out for help.
“You can’t help me, Dr. Vaughn. Not unless you can make Ryker fall out of love with Kennedy. Or make her love me the way I love her.”
“No one can make those things happen, Judah. We can’t make people love or not love someone. Love just happens.”
He thought fleetingly of Jess and the look on her face at the homecoming game. More signs he’d missed.
“I’ve loved her since I met her. Since kindergarten.” The boy was crying now. “I protected her. I did everything for her. Why can’t she love me?”
Against his better judgment, Lucas slowly lowered his hands. “She does love you, Judah. She’s your friend. She’s never not loved you.”
“But she doesn’t love me the way I love her. She should!”
He took another step. “I get that it’s breaking your heart, but if you love her, you’d want her to be happy, right? It’s not her fault.”
“What did I do wrong that she doesn’t love me?”
Judah was no longer rational. Although he stopped pointing the gun at Lucas, he was still waving it around as he talked, which was even more dangerous.
Another voice spoke up from behind Lucas. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Judah. We love who we love. And Kennedy didn’t do anything wrong either. She can’t help it if she can’t reciprocate at the same level.”
In the dim light, Lucas saw Judah’s eyes round in surprise at Elyxandre’s sudden appearance. She was covered in dust and cobwebs, and there was a ragged scratch along her left arm from where she’d run into something.
