Carl cleared his throat. “I think you should open the door.”
My eyes flew open and my gaze shot to them. “What?”
Rosa nodded at the door with a small curl of her lips. “Go on, honey.”
I stood there for a moment and then I whirled around. Racing to the door, I turned the handle and yanked it open. My breath caught.
Rider was on the stoop and he turned slowly. He was wearing what he had in class earlier today. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He wore an actual sweater for once, a thick wool one in navy blue.
His gaze roamed over my face and then to the book I still held to my chest. “I’m real.”
Those two words. I’m real. No one else might have gotten the significance of them, but I knew they meant the world. Tears clouded my eyes as I stepped back and to the side, holding the door open for him.
Relief flickered over his face and he walked in. I closed the door, unable to speak, and not for the typical reasons.
“Keep the door open up there,” Carl advised, and then he pivoted on his heel and walked into the kitchen.
Rosa smiled at us.
Looking at me, Rider waited, and I nodded. He followed me up the stairs to my bedroom. I left the door open. Sort of. There was at least a one-inch gap between the door and its frame.
Rider went to the window seat and he sat. His weary gaze followed me. I walked to the side of the bed facing him and sat on the corner. A tired smile pulled at his lips. “I don’t know where to start,” he said.
“Anywhere,” I whispered, clutching the book as hope and wariness warred inside me.
He lowered his chin. “I guess I’ll start with the speech. That was... It was beautiful. The words, what you said, what you meant? But the fact that you got up there and did it was the most beautiful of all those things. I mean it, Mallory.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I...I wanted to talk to you before class, but I’m glad I heard that speech first. Because I knew you were right before, but now I know it even more.”
I took two breaths.
“You were right about what you said about me, about how I see myself and others, you were right. I don’t give other people a chance to give up on me. I never really thought of it that way before, but you were right.” He dropped his forearms to his knees. “It’s weird. You know, what you said to me at the funeral, about Jayden and that being real? I... God, I could only say this to you, because you understand, but I didn’t feel real. In some ways, I still don’t.”
“I do understand.” I held the book tighter. “I totally do.”
His lashes lifted and his eyes pierced mine. “I know. Both of us were that damn rabbit.” He laughed roughly. “I was sitting in that funeral on Saturday and I...I was thinking about everything. Thinking about how fucking unfair it was that Jayden was in that damn casket and something hit me right then. I’ve been living like I didn’t have anything. No family. No opportunities. No one who really cared if I was here or not, and I was looking at Jayden, sitting next to his brother and his grandmother and I...” His voice cut, and my chest squeezed. “Jayden had a family. He had opportunity. You know? He had plenty of people who cared about him being here, and yet, he still ended up dead in the damn streets.”
Rider shoved his hand through his hair. “And I’m here. I’m so damn lucky, because I haven’t been careful. Henry could’ve easily killed me.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. He was so right there. Many times I’d thought Henry was going to beat him to death.
“When Henry’s friends would come...after me, I used to think I did something, you know? That it was somehow my fault—”
“What? That wasn’t your fault, Rider. None of that was.”
“I know, but sometimes my head gets... It gets messed up.” He paused. “And when I was in that group home, I didn’t care. I got in older, bigger kids’ faces. I got the shit knocked out of me multiple times, and I didn’t care. By the time Mrs. Luna came along, it felt too late for me. She tried. She really did—still does, and I’ve done so many stupid things that should’ve ended my life.”
I hated hearing that. It scared me to death.
“Jayden makes one or two bad mistakes, and he’s dead. Me, I’m still here.” He dropped his head back and sighed. “I’d been given opportunities others hadn’t and I’ve been wasting them, and now I have to really wonder if it is too late.”
“It’s not,” I whispered, truly believing it.