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I shook my head because stopping had become impossible. The truth had been locked inside me for so long that once the door opened, I no longer knew how to close it.

“She fell down the stairs and died the next day. Dad had a video from the building, but he didn't show it to me until after the funeral. Then after I was drafted and started making real money was when he told me what would happen if anyone ever saw it.”

Understanding began to move across Max's face.

“He's been blackmailing you with footage of your mother's death?”

The word blackmailing barely registered.

Something else did.

“He has the proof.”

“Proof of what?”

I stared at him.

He genuinely didn't understand.

For one desperate second, I wanted to leave it that way, because Max was still holding my hand and looking at me as though I was somebody he wanted to protect. I knew exactly what would happen once he understood what the video showed.

At least, I thought I did.

“The camera was behind us. You can see Mom going down the stairs and me following her, and then my hands hit her back before she falls.”

Max's expression changed, but not in any way I could read through the tears blurring my vision.

“Ash, you were seven.”

He didn't understand.

The terrible thing was that part of me had known he wouldn't, because nobody looked at a seven-year-old child and imagined him capable of killing his mother.

I had the advantage of knowing what I'd done. “It wasn't an accident.”

“Ash—”

“I pushed her.”

For the first time since I'd started talking, Max had no immediate answer.

The silence terrified me enough that I finally forced myself to look at him. His face had gone pale.

“She was trying to get us away from my father, and I was right behind her. The video shows my hands hitting her back before she falls, and she died because of it.”

The tears were coming too hard now for me to pretend I had any control left. I tried to pull my hand away, suddenly unable to bear the thought of Max touching me because he didn't understand yet that he shouldn't.

He wouldn't let me disappear completely.

He didn't grip harder or force me to stay. He simply kept his palm open beneath mine, leaving the choice where he'd left it all night.

That somehow made it worse.

For most of my life, I'd imagined what would happen if I ever said the truth aloud to someone who mattered. I'd imagined disgust, horror, and the moment their face changed because they finally understood what kind of person they'd allowed into their life.

I'd never imagined Max looking at me as though my pain was breaking his heart.

“I killed my mother, Max.”