Chapter 11

Summer's POV

The piano lesson had ended twenty minutes ago, but my fingers still tingled from the Chopin étude I'd been drilling. I stood on the sidewalk outside the Berklee practice studios, just bought an iced Americano—my go-to drink, bitter and strong, exactly how I needed it right now.

My phone buzzed. Running 5 min late, sweetie. Traffic near Faneuil Hall is terrible.

Maya. I exhaled slowly, watching college students stream past with instrument cases, their faces bright with uncomplicated ambition.

Her car finally appeared, sleek and predatory in the golden September light. She leaned across to push open the passenger door, her smile wide and warm. "Sorry, honey! You know how downtown gets this time of day."

I slid into the leather seat, the air conditioning hitting my flushed skin. "It's fine."

"How was your lesson?" She pulled back into traffic. "Ms. Robertson is so talented. Your mother is incredibly generous to arrange these sessions."

"She is." I buckled my seatbelt, watching the familiar streets slide past. We should have been heading back toward Back Bay, but Maya was taking a different route, one that angled south and east. "Are we going a different way?"

"Oh, I thought we'd take the scenic route." Her voice was casual, too casual. "I want you to see more of the real Boston, you know? Not just the nice neighborhoods."

My stomach tightened. She's testing me, I realized. Seeing if I'll wrinkle my nose at the 'poor' neighborhood.

"It looks like a real community," I said carefully, watching the buildings change as we crossed into South Boston. The elegant brownstones gave way to triple-deckers with peeling paint, corner stores, Irish pubs with flickering neon signs.

"Well, yes, I suppose." Maya's fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "Though community doesn't pay the bills, does it?"

I didn't answer, too busy watching the street signs. We were getting close to that address, the restaurant where I'd been too drunk to notice Kieran that night.

My heart stopped.

There, ahead on the left, was The Happy Patty, its red and white striped awning faded but cheerful. And outside, blocking half the sidewalk, was a crowd of people.

"What's going on there?" Maya slowed the car.

I was already rolling down my window. Voices carried on the breeze, angry and excited.

"—can't believe a St. Jude's kid would—"

"—probably just doing it for Instagram—"

"—that little girl is crying—"

St. Jude's. My blood turned to ice.

"Oh dear." Maya's voice held false concern. "Looks like some kind of incident. We should probably just drive past, Summer."

But I was already unbuckling my seatbelt. Through the gaps in the crowd, I could see a small figure sitting on a plastic chair—a little girl with a mushroom haircut and something that glinted silver at her ears.

Lily.

"Summer, what are you—"

"Stay in the car," I said, pushing open the door. "I'll be right back."

I shouldered through the crowd, not caring about the complaints. All I could think about was that little girl crying.

"—publicity stunt—"

"—that uniform is real—"

"—those hearing aids are expensive—"

I broke through the front line and froze.

Kieran stood in front of the restaurant door, his white St. Jude's shirt untucked and rolled to the elbows, a black apron tied around his waist. His face was blank, completely empty. In his right hand he held a receipt.

Facing him was a man in his forties, barrel-chested and red-faced, wearing stained work clothes and reeking of beer. He had an empty bottle in one hand.

Behind Kieran, Lily pressed against his legs, tears streaming down her face.

"—fifteen bucks for a burger?" the drunk man shouted. "You think you can rob me just 'cause you wear that fancy uniform?"

"The menu clearly states bacon cheeseburger with fries is $14.99," Kieran said, his voice flat. "You ordered extra egg. Total is $16.50."

"Don't you wave that shit at me!" The man swatted the receipt away. "I got three thousand followers on Instagram, and I'm gonna tell every one of them about this scam joint!"

Someone in the crowd laughed.

Kieran's jaw tightened. "Sir, I need you to pay for your meal."

"You calling me poor, you little punk? I'll show you what I can afford!"

He lunged forward.

The drunk man's shoulder hit the food cart next to the door—the one with the deep fryer. The cart rocked violently, hot oil sloshing, the whole thing tipping toward Kieran and Lily.

Kieran moved fast, spinning to shield his sister, his left arm sweeping Lily up and pressing her face into his chest while his right hand shot out to steady the cart. But that hand couldn't grip properly. The cart tilted further, and hot oil splashed over the edge.

It hit Kieran's right forearm, then his hand, then splattered across his white shirt.

Kieran didn't make a sound.

His face didn't change. He just stood there, holding his sister, checking her over with his good hand.

"Kieran!" Lily sobbed. "Kieran, you're hurt!"

"Shh." His voice was gentle. "Close your eyes, Lily. I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine. I could see the burns forming, the way his skin was already reddening. The drunk man stumbled back, his anger deflating into panic.

"That wasn't my fault! Everyone saw!"

"Now pay what you owe," Kieran said, voice still flat. "Sixteen dollars and fifty cents."

The crowd murmured, phones out, filming, but nobody moved to help.

The drunk man was backing away, trying to slip into the crowd. "I ain't paying nothing!"

Something in me snapped.

I strode forward, my hand gripping my iced Americano. The drunk man was turning to run when I reached him.

I threw the entire coffee in his face.

Ice cubes and cold coffee exploded across his features. He sputtered and cursed, and when he could see again, he found me standing between him and escape.

"You," I said, my voice low and shaking. "You're not going anywhere."

The crowd went silent. The drunk man blinked at me, taking in my St. Jude's uniform, my expensive cardigan.

"Who the hell—"

"Sixteen dollars and fifty cents," I said. "Pay it. Now."

"Listen, sweetheart—"

"I understand you assaulted a minor. I understand you caused injury." I pulled out my phone, hands trembling. "And I have video of all of it. So either you pay what you owe plus medical expenses, or I call the police right now."