“No.”
The word came harder than I intended.
He looked up.
“I remember your face now.”
His eyes widened.
“Through the windshield. For one second.”
I swallowed.
“You looked terrified.”
“I was.”
“You didn’t look careless. Or angry. Or drunk. You looked like a man watching something happen too fast to prevent.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“That matters to me.”
He breathed out shakily.
“Why?”
“Because the accident already took years from my memory. I don’t want it turning a decent man into a villain simply because terror needs a face.”
No one spoke.
The smoker hissed as fat struck hot metal.
A child shouted near the barn and was shushed by another.
Elias lowered his head.
“I have thought about that second every night.”
“So have I without knowing what it was.”
I touched the scar at my temple.
“Now I know. And it’s over.”
His shoulders shook.
Miriam wrapped one arm around him.
He reached across the gap between our chairs.
I gave him my hand.
His grip was rough and warm.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know.”
