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“It’s okay,” I manage quietly. “I would have done the time anyway.”
“No, it’s not okay,” Nina says in a firm voice, drawing my focus back to her. “It’s not okay, Tristan. What weshouldhave done was fought harder to expose the truth. What weshouldhave done is tried to get an innocent man out of prison, but we were so hurt, soangrythat we didn’t care. We didn’t know why you confessed, but as far as we were concerned, we already did more than we should have in finding the evidence and turning it in. What happened after that wasn’t on us. Someone had to pay for Amber’s death, and if it couldn’t be the right person, it was fine that it was the wrong one.”
“Butwewere the ones who were wrong,” Marty says, meeting my gaze. “When we heard you were out, it brought all of this back. My brother told us about their encounter with you at Shelton’s, how they publicly berated you on our behalf, and we realized that justicewasn’tserved. We’ve wanted to talk to you as well. To tell you we’re sorry for fighting one injustice with another.”
He turns to Kim. “You’re right. Nothing can bring Amber back and make things right again. But we owe her and her memory so much more than anger and hate. Our family has suffered, and so has yours. We accomplish nothing by causing more for all of us. We miss Amber every second of every day. But Tristan isn’t a murderer, and neither are you. I can see it in your eyes. The guilt and pain you carry. That’s enough justice for us.”
Kim’s hand cinches around mine, and I catch the quiver in her lip.
“You made a huge mistake that had catastrophic consequences,” Nina says. “But we all messed up to some degree. Amber shouldn’t have made the irresponsible decision to drink and try to walk home alone. Her friends shouldn’t have let her.Weshouldn’t have created an environment where she’d rather risk her life than our anger by calling us for a ride. Don’t you see? The blame spiral never ends. It’s a poison that will seep in and prevent healing. If we really want to honor her memory, we have to use this tragedy to be better. Todobetter for ourselves and our community. We want Amber’s legacy to be a beacon of light, not mired in hatred and hostility. So yes, we forgive you. And Tristan?”
I look at them through a sheen of tears.
“Will you forgive us?”
Stunned, I don’t know what to do when Nina crosses to me and pulls me into a hug. I’m shaking as her arms tighten around me.
“We can see why Amber liked you,” she says softly. “What you did for your sister was wrong—and also proves you are exactly the kind of man we always hoped she’d find.”
Kim and I are both mentally and physically exhausted after our meeting with the Huberts. In a million guesses, I wouldn’t have picked that scenario as the outcome of the encounter. After years of being bombarded with the bad, I’d forgotten there’s still good out there, still people like the Alexanders, Ashton, Stacie, and the Huberts. There’s still forgiveness, kindness, compassion, mercy, and redemption. There’s still hope that even the worst wounds can start to heal.
The Huberts’ words haunt me as we drive back to the apartment. Blame is a poison. So is hate, anger, vengeance… As long as ugliness is rotting in your veins, what hope do you have of finding peace? How does getting stuck in the blame spiral right a wrong? I think about Pierce and how giving in to his poison didn’t get him what he wanted, but caused him to lose everything. Well, I guess the extent of what he’s lost has yet to be determined. At the very least, it didn’t get him Isabel, whoiseverything.
I feel like I can breathe again when she tucks her arms around me as soon as we enter the apartment. Mom and Dad rise from the couch as well, looking very concerned. Iz tightens her arms around my waist, careful to avoid my injuries. I kiss her hair and close my eyes, just wanting to breathe her in for a moment and fill my soul. Any minute could bring more heartache, so I’ve learned to treasure the present. I may not have much, but I still have everything.
“How did it go?” Dad asks.
I have no idea how to answer that, so I’m grateful when Kim launches into the story.
She barely starts talking, however, before Dad’s phone rings. He peeks at the display and straightens abruptly.
“I’m sorry to cut you off, sweetie, but I should take this.” His gaze crosses to me, and I hold my breath.
“Hi, Kyle, it’s Ben.”
Isabel’s slight gasp reflects the pound of my heart.
“Yes… Really… Interesting.”
I try to read his expression, but his face is plastered in unreadable lawyer-mode.
“I see. Well, thank you for the heads up. We’ll take a formal look at that tonight. Right, yes, I understand. Thank you. Talk soon.”
He hangs up and stares at his phone for a beat. No one moves as we wait.
“That was Kyle Alexander,” Dad says. “He just got a tip from his contact. We finally got statements and the video from Pierce’s friends, Joseph Halstaff and Karter Mapleton.” He looks at me, and I try to breathe.
I can’t go back. Please don’t make me go back.
“They confirmed your story, Tristan. So did the video. Because of the premeditation and his direct threat, they’re charging Pierce with attempted murder instead of aggravated assault. Kyle thinks it’s almost certain the Harrisons will try to plea back down to assault, but even Randall Harrison won’t be able to beat this one completely.”
“Thank god!” Yolis cries.
Isabel leans into me, and I pull her tight.
“They believed you,” she whispers.
They did. They believed me.
