No one, I assumed, considering the situation.
What if I was wrong?
What if there’s someone out there, sitting on the devastating truth for over a decade?
What if I’m completely fucked—and maybe I should be.
“Bad memories? You look concerned.” Cooper raises his eyebrows in mock-sympathy. “The poor girl’s family never did find out what caused her accident that night, did they?”
Say nothing.
And no, they never knew how torn up she was, how my rejection almost certainly caused her to drive recklessly and go crashing to her death.
They never knew if she deliberately killed herself, and neither do I.
They suspected it was a bad decision, a horrible error, not desperation.
And maybe it was.Maybe.
Only, I know better.
Because I saw the look in her eyes when I walked away.
I had one chance to stop her, and I fucking choked.
My heart stops for several beats.
This is it, my darkest secret, the stone I’ve carried on my shoulders for too long, and now Cooper goddamned Daley can demolish my entire life with it.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snarl.
I shift my leg under the small table too hard and my knee bangs it.
The whole thing shakes from the impact, threatening to collapse. Should’ve known it would be practically cardboard.
“You know what I’m talking about,” he whispers.
“Who told you?”
“Now, now,” Daley says, drawing it out like the oily little bastard he is. “Really, it’s your own fault for running your mouth with your lovely fiancée in public at a certain French restaurant. Anyone could have heard.”
I’m shocked cold.
That dinner was the beginning of the end, and I’ve tried not to think about it ever since, though I haven’t gone a day without replaying everything.
But no one was sitting close enough to hear us.
I’m sure of it.
Plenty of people would’ve been interested in listening if they could, but no one came near us except—
“The waiter,” I snarl.
“That’s a big accusation.” Daley smiles. “True or not, you never know who’s listening. Or how much someone else is willing to fork over to keep tabs on potential friends.”
“Friends.” I spit the word like rotten lettuce.
Bribery is a great way of getting people to talk—even to people they shouldn’t.
