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She hasn’t told me the specifics of her dreams before, but I think I have a pretty good idea.
Still so quiet, she continues. “Usually it’s the same. The person in the backseat. The gun. The tree. But this time…” Her voice cracks. “This time…”
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“No.” In the dim of the room, her cheeks shine wetly. “I do. Because… it’s something I haven’t told you before.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” I shift Thea onto my lap, setting her sideways so I can see her face. “You can tell me anything.”
After a long pause, she says, “Mrs. Richardson called me today.”
That’s not what I was expecting.
“She wants me to speak at the memorial. For Liam.” A small tremor works through her body. “I don’t want to. But I feel guilty.”
“Why?”
Thea stares at me, hesitating. “This time in my dream, it was Liam in the backseat. And he”—she shudders—“he wanted to kill me. He said it was all my fault he died.”
I’m shaking my head at her. “No, Thea—”
“I told you his mother blamed me, but I didn’t explain why.” Small fingers clutch my shirt, trembling. “When we broke up, we were at a party, and I caught Liam kissing another girl. A friend. Jess. I was so hurt; I ran off to cry on Ari’s shoulder, but then I got mad. And I found Liam and broke up with him.”
None of this sounds like Thea’s fault so far.
“He was really drunk by the time he wanted to leave. And he wanted me to go with him. I wouldn’t.” Thea stares down at her lap. “I was mad at Liam, but I told him not to leave. But he insisted. And then… then Jess said she’d go with him. She had wanted him for ages; I never knew until that night.”
“Ah, sweetheart.”
“Then he crashed his car. And Liam was killed instantly. Jess was injured—you saw her scars, but they were so much worse back then. And she… she was so upset, she blamed me for everything. She said it was supposed to be me in the car.”
I nearly crack my molars. “What?”
“Yeah.” Thea drags her eyes up to meet mine. “Jess claimed I made Liam leave, even though I knew he was drunk. And that she went with him in the car because she was trying to stop him. But it wasn’t true, Ben. It wasn’t.”
Anger pulses inside me, heating.
“Other people believed her. Not everyone, lots of people were there and saw, but not enough.” The words spill out in a rush, like she’s desperate to get them out. “I felt terrible already, Liam was dead, it was horrible. And I did feel guilty. Like if I’d tried harder, if I’d thought to hide his keys, if I hadn’t broken up with him…”
Her pain is gutting me. “Sweetheart…”
“And then the funeral. I went, the whole town was there. And then… right at the grave… his mother started screaming at me. Saying that it was all my fault.” In a torn whisper, Thea adds, “She called me a killer.”
Forget anger. I’m furious. Imagining poor Thea, already so torn up about everything—the betrayal of her boyfriend and friend, and then the terrible accident… God. How must she have felt?
“That’s why I moved away after high school,” she explains softly, her face drenched with tears. “I couldn’t be around Liam’s family. And Jess. Even when other people stopped blaming me—thank God for Ari, she told everyone it wasn’t true—but it was still too hard. I had to leave.”
I’m caught in a hurricane of emotions. Aching sorrow for what Thea went through. A desperate desire to protect her. And fury at what those people did to the woman I love.
But what Thea needs right now is comfort. So I brush the tears from her cheeks and say, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry.”
Her gaze is tortured as she looks at me. I can barely hear her as she says, “I was scared to come back here. But Jess, Mrs. Richardson, most of the people who believed them… they had moved away. It was easier. But I still feel guilty.”
“No.” The word tears out of me. “You did nothing wrong. Nothing. They needed someone to blame, and you were an easy target. But that doesn’t mean it was your fault.”
“Most of the time I know that,” she admits. “But sometimes—”
“I know. Trust me, I know. But it doesn’t make it your fault.”
