“Ren was furious. He grabbed Cory by the scruff of his neck and punched him in the face. He passed out straightaway, and I was so scared he was dead.” He looks down at his hands. “It would’ve been better for him if he had’ve gone like that.”
I press a hand over my mouth, preparing myself for whatever he’s going to say next.
Swiping another tear away, he looks up at me as he continues. “Ren took him with us to our base, which was this big ole warehouse at an abandoned airstrip. I tried pleading with him in the truck on the way, telling him Cory was only four and he didn’t really understand what he’d seen. I assured him I would convince him to say nothing, but he told me to shut up. I couldn’t keep quiet though. I had to keep trying, because I cared about that little boy like he was my baby brother, so I kept talking and pleading until Ren lost his patience and attacked me. The others watched as he punched me repeatedly, and eventually, I realized there was nothing I could do or say to stop it, so I gave up trying. I was sick to my stomach, Zeta,” he whispers, rubbing a hand back and forth across his belly. “Cory woke up shortly after we got to the base, and the guys started in on him. Kicking and punching him. The harder he cried, the harder they beat him.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, his body shuddering, and I can’t stay away any longer. I sit beside him, sliding my arm around his back, but he pushes me away, scooting farther up the bed until his spine hits the headboard. “Don’t do that. Don’t console me, because I don’t deserve it.”
“I remember who he was now,” I quietly admit. “I remember watching all the reports on TV and crying.”
Silent tears leak out of his eyes. “I tried to stop it again. I begged Ren to let Cory go, but he pinned me to the wall, made it clear what would happen to me if I wasn’t on board with it, so I shut up after that.”
A strangled sound rips from the back of his throat, and tears are silently falling down my cheeks now too. “I watched them beat him to death. Watched his tiny little chest inflate with his last breath. Watched as his life force was extinguished.” He fixes me with a look of sheer torment, and I feel his pain as acutely as if it’s my own. “I stood by like a coward. I did nothing as they beat that innocent little boy to death.”
He leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he resumes speaking, he sounds different, lost and like he’s no longer here. “Ren warned us not to tell anyone, but I couldn’t live with it. Not when Cory’s mom started looking for him. She didn’t give a flying fuck about him when he was alive but when he went missing, she involved the police and gave interviews to reporters like she was some kind of celebrity.” He shakes his head in disgust. “I woke up screaming every night for a week after he died. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cory’s face, and I knew it wasn’t right, so I went to the local cop station and told them everything. They rounded up all the boys, and that’s when the story went viral. The whole world was in shock. Disgusted at the murder of an innocent little boy at the hands of other kids.”
He looks sideways at me, but he may as well be looking straight through me. “I wanted them to kill me, because I didn’t want to live with what I’d done. Instead, they gave us all new identities, to protect us, because we were still minors, and they sent us to different juvies. The older boys got longer sentences, and some of them are still in adult prisons, but, because I was the youngest, I played no part in the actual murder, and I voluntarily went to the authorities, I was given a shorter sentence and released at eighteen. Vincent was let out then too, although I haven’t spoken to him. Part of our release conditions are to have no further contact with one another. We aren’t to ever disclose our true identities, and I have to visit a probation officer every couple years to check in.”
He stops talking, and silence engulfs us. I’m in complete shock, and I don’t know how I feel, or what to say. We don’t speak, but neither one of us moves either. So many thoughts flit through my mind, and I want to reach out to him, but I don’t know where to start.
“Do you hate me now?” he quietly asks after what feels like an eternity of silence.
I immediately shake my head, turning to look at him. “I could never hate you, Ryder. And while I won’t pretend this hasn’t shocked and upset me, it doesn’t change who you are. If anything, it helps me understand you a bit better.”
“I killed a little boy, Zeta! How can you even stand to look at me?”
“Youdidn’t kill him, and you were only a little boy, too. Neglected and deprived of love. You tried to look out for him. And you did the right thing by confessing to the authorities.”
“I stood by and did nothing!” he shouts, his voice cracking at the end. “And he was only there in the first place because of me.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re responsible, and you’ve served your time. You’re continuing to serve time,” I add, because now it all makes sense. The nightmares, pushing me away, the anger that seems to flare up for no reason, his addiction to drink and drugs as an attempt to blot out reality. “What’s your real name?” I softly ask.
Strain is etched across his face as he utters the words. “Jack Hill, but that’s not who I am anymore. I’m Ryder Stone. I never want to be Jack Hill again.”
“He’s a part of you, and he always will be, especially if you continue to hate yourself for the role you played in Cory’s death.”
“It’s never going to end, Zeta. I will always remember who Jack Hill was.” He sighs heavily. “Ren will make sure of it.”
“Ren was the man in the garage. The guy who attacked me,” I surmise, and he nods. “Why isn’t he in jail?”
“I discovered after I was released that the others had all colluded to spare him. They told the cops he wasn’t there that day, and Johnny took the fall for him. He confessed to shooting the cashier too.” He shakes his head repeatedly. “Ren hasn’t served any time, and that makes me sick.”
“And now he’s blackmailing you?” I guess.
He nods again. “He’s the reason I left you,” he admits, and I urge him to continue with my eyes. “He was waiting for me outside juvie that last time I came to visit you. He told me I had a debt to pay because I was the reason everyone was sent down. He had pictures of you, and he made it clear he’d seek revenge through you if I didn’t start giving him cash. I was terrified he’d hurt you, and I had nothing to offer you back then. No way to protect you, so I thought if I left, if I put distance between us and cut all ties, that he’d see I didn’t care about you and leave you alone. And it worked, until you reappeared in my life, and I was too weak to send you away. I convinced myself that it’d be different now. That I had the resources to protect you. That it’d be safer for you to be with me than not with me. I foolishly thought the fact I’ve paid him millions in hush money to keep my identity a secret from my fans would be enough. But I was wrong.”
He buries his head in his hands, and his shoulders heave painfully. I can’t watch him beat himself up any longer, so I crawl up the bed and wrap my arms around him, just holding him, resting my cheek on his back, in a kind of numbed-dazed state.
After a while, he lifts his head up, peering into my eyes. “I love you, Zeta, even if I’ve done a piss-poor job of showing you how much. I don’t have the words to describe how sorry I am for dragging you into all this.” Gently, he brushes his fingers against the bandage on my neck. “He hurt you because of me, and I’ll never forgive myself.” Closing his eyes, he presses a fierce kiss to my forehead. “I know I’ve most likely lost you, and I won’t fight you if that’s what you want, but I’m promising you now, that no matter what happens between us, your safety is my number one priority. I’m going to ensure he doesn’t get near you again, and that is one promise I’m not breaking for anything or anyone.”
36
Zeta
We return to the Hamptons that evening, and the atmosphere is subdued on the plane and in the SUV. I sit beside Ryder, but we don’t talk, and we don’t touch. He told me nothing happened with Ashley, and I believe him, but it doesn’t eradicate the hurt or the sense of betrayal. He also concealed his past from me, putting me in danger by not revealing the truth. While a part of me understands why he did it, and I can’t deny he took measures to try and keep me safe, I’m still upset that he didn’t confide in me. I’ve told him I need space to sort out my feelings, and he’s agreed to give me as much time as I need. I think he expected me to leave as soon as I heard the truth, but I’m not going to run away without thinking everything through.
Things are tense between the guys too, and by Tuesday, I can’t bear the uncomfortable mood in the studio, so I excuse myself for the rest of the week, choosing to work on the biography out on the upper level terrace instead. Writing helps keep me distracted, and I sorely need that right now.
Every morning, a delivery of fresh flowers arrives for me with a different romantic note from Ryder. My bedroom smells like a florist shop, and they never fail to bring a smile to my face, but it’s going to take more than flowers to convince me I should completely forgive him and give things a go again.
