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“George, was this in Mexico?”
She doesn’t even have to answer. I already know.
And now I understand why she can’t forgive me. Because I don’t fucking deserve it.
Chapter 14
George
Mexico.
Of all the things Quinn could have said, this was the dead last I expected.
I search his face, studying the features I don’t want to know as well as I do. The eyes I’ve been telling myself not to trust since the night he came back into my life.
Is this it? The moment he admits to remembering who I am?
The moment I finally get the explanation I been waiting for, for almost seven years?
Moving back to the booth, I sit.
“Okay, Mexico.” The words are stiff, awkward coming off my tongue. But if he notices, there’s no sign of it.
I don’t know what I want to hear. There’s a part of me that’s waiting for him to tell me that I wasn’t a complete fool. But I was there— I was there!
And he has to know it, or he wouldn’t have brought it up. So why was he trying to convince me that he had no part in the crime I accused him of?
Unless this was all about getting me to admit that I was the girl in Mexico?
I grip the base of the seat I’m on, holding tight as a million questions rattle around my mind.
“I was down on vacation with my brother and a couple guys I grew up with.”
Thad, who likes fruity cocktails and Camden, who had to buy new trunks because his ripped on the waterslide. And Patrick, who looks so much like his brother it’s uncanny.
“It was winter break, so hockey season was still going, but I had the week between Christmas and New Year’s off. I was the only one who played at the college level or had any kind of shot at the draft, so the guys were cutting loose in no small way. And even though that’s not how I generally am—” he takes a breath and looks at me with such regret, I feel it all the way through me, “—I must’ve gotten caught up in it.”
“Are you talking about drugs?” I whisper. It would have to be, because I spent the entire day and evening with him and he didn’t have a single drink. Neither of us did.
He jerks back with a cough. “Drugs? Not on your life. I had my eye on a pro career, no way in hell would I have risked that. Not just getting caught either. Booze, painkillers. That shit hits me harder than most people and sometimes a bit sideways. Recreational drugs scare the shit out of me. But back in college, I guess maybe I didn’t have the same handle on my tolerance for alcohol I do now.”
There’s a nervous tension growing in my belly, and suddenly I’m leaning into the space between us, into his explanation.
“What happened?” I asked, my throat dry, my lungs barely functioning. I can’t believe he heard me, but he goes on.
“Truth? I don’t 100% know. One minute I’m having lunch with the guys, and the next I’m waking up in my room with more than twenty-four hours I can’t account for and the mother of all hangovers.”
“You— You don’t remember that day?” There’s no way. He can’t be serious.
He shakes his head. “My brother was there when I woke up, looking more worried about me than I think I’ve ever seen him before or since. You’ll have to take my word for it, but Pat is one of those guys who only worries about himself. So seeing that freaked-out look in his eyes told me it was serious. I waited for things to come back into focus, for the blanks to start filling in. But there was nothing.”
There isn’t enough air in the room. Maybe not enough in the whole city.
“Did you… Bump your head? Could something have happened to you on your way back from—”
“Nah,” he says quickly enough that I hope he didn’t catch that near slip. “My head was fine, but I reeked like booze, and barfed up half my stomach within two minutes of sitting up. But even as messed up as I was, I realized I hadn’t—uhh, been alone the night before.”
“Did your brother tell you?”Did he explain about the redhead he’d met coming out of your room?
