Page 109 of Savage Heart

My heart stutters. “No,” I whisper. “Lincoln wouldn’t want that.”

“He wouldn’t want you to be treated this way . . . more than he would want to save face,” Brandon argues, stepping closer, his voice urgent but hushed. “The whole town’s turning on you, Iris. Blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. If they knew the truth—”

“Stop!” Panic rises, hot and fast. “We swore we’d keep it quiet. For his sake. I can’t go back on my word. And I don’t want him to be remembered that way.”

“And letting them think you killed him doesn’t ruin you?” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m done watching this. I’m telling my parents, whether you like it or not.”

“You can’t!” I hiss, glancing around as heads turn our way. “Please. Think about it. Manny and Jennifer worshipped him too. This would break them. And think about your job, Brandon.”

“My parents should know the truth.” His jaw sets, stubborn like Lincoln’s could get sometimes. “Come with me or not, but I’m going.”

I finally give in, too exhausted to fight. Maybe if I go, I can soften the blow somehow. I follow him to his house, my spaghetti getting cold in the back seat. I look around for Maverick but don’t see him anywhere.

Brandon opens the front door. “Mom, Dad? I’ve got Iris with me.”

Manny walks into the living room, his face gaunt. I’ve never seen him look small, but it’s like he’s shrunk since Lincoln died. He stares at Brandon, not looking at me at all. “What’s going on, Son?”

I swallow hard and glance around the room, pausing on the family photos lining the walls. Lincoln’s football trophies gleam on the mantel, and his senior portrait is hanging over the fireplace. This wasn’t his favorite picture—he thought he was smiling way too big—but he didn’t have the heart to tell his mom that.

“We need to talk to you. About the night Lincoln died,” Brandon says.

Manny’s eyes skirt to mine then. He sinks into his recliner, looking exhausted. “Sit down,” he says.

Brandon glances at me, his resolve cracking just a bit, but he plunges in. “Dad, we didn’t tell the truth about what happened. Iris wasn’t feeling well that night. Lincoln was the one driving . . . and he’d been drinking.”

My mouth goes dry. There’s no turning back now.

“I was the first one there, and Lincoln convinced Iris to cover for him. He didn’t want to lose his scholarship,” Brandon says.

“And he didn’t want to disappoint you,” I chime in softly, my voice trembling.

Manny listens, his face paling with every word.

“We swore to protect him as the football hero, not the flawed kid who made a fatal mistake,” Brandon adds. “And it just snowballed. I could get in trouble at the station for lying about this. I don’t want to lose my job, but I can’t keep pretending—”

Silence hangs heavy, broken only by Manny’s ragged breaths. Then the tears come—hard, wrenching sobs that shake his broad shoulders. He buries his face in his hands.

“My boy . . . my poor boy.” He looks up at me, eyes swimming, and reaches out a trembling hand. “Iris, I’m so sorry. We’ve all been so wrong. Blaming you . . . God, forgive me.”

Relief floods me, mixed with fresh grief, but before I can respond, Manny clutches at his chest, his face contorting in pain. “I-I can’t . . .” He gasps, eyes widening in shock.

“Dad?” Brandon jumps up, alarm in his voice.

Manny slumps forward, collapsing to the floor with a thud that echoes through the house. I drop to my knees beside him, shaking his shoulder.

“Manny? Oh my God, Manny!” No response. I put my hand on his chest and feel nothing.

Brandon checks for a pulse, his hands fumbling.

“He’s . . . he’s not breathing. Call 911!” Brandon yells, but I’m already dialing, my fingers slick with panic.

The operator’s voice is calm, distant, as I babble the address and tell her exactly where to come on the property. Inside, I’m screaming. This can’t be happening. No, no, no.

The garage door opens, and we hear steps in the kitchen.

“Mom!” Brandon yells. “We need you in here.”

She rushes in, arms loaded with grocery bags that then tumble to the floor. Apples roll across the carpet as she takes in the scene—Manny lifeless, us hovering over him. Her scream pierces the air.