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Taking his ball cap off, he rakes a hand through his thinning hair. “Jesus, it’s actually you.”
“You remember me?” I wheeze, clutching the counter in front of me. What’s he doing here? I know he lives in the city, but Quinn said they hardly talk, see each other even less.
Quinn.
My stomach twists. Oh God, if Patrick is here then Quinn knows.
He knows about Mexico. And he knows I kept the truth from him.
I shoot a panicked look at my phone and grab it up, holding it close to my chest.
“Is he mad?” I manage to choke out. Hands trembling from guilt and fear, I try to unlock my phone. Try again, only it clatters to the floor.
“Mad, why would he be mad?” Patrick ducks down and sweeps up the phone for me. Pressing it into my hand, he holds there as our eyes meet and a chill slithers through me. He lets out a short laugh. “And sure, I remember you. Kind of hard to forget, with that hair and a name like George.”
“But—” He told Quinn he didn’t. And as unlikely as it seemed that both of them would lose memories from that night, I guess a part of me was hoping it was true. That there was some better explanation than Quinn’s brother intentionally lied to him.
Becausethat’swhat this means,right?
Patrick crosses to the rack stocked with accessories and fingers a camera mount. “Couldn’t believe it when he told me he’d found you again. Fate’s one crazy bitch, huh?”
My head snaps up.What?
He moves on to the helmets. “Look, Quinn told me not to bring it up and would probably lose his shit if he knew I came to see you.”
My heart is racing and my hands feel numb. I’m trying to follow what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make sense. Quinndoesn’tknow Patrick’s here?
“But if you’ve found a way to get past what happened in Mexico and we’re maybe going to be in each other’s lives for a while, I wanted to clear the air between us. Let you know I’m sorry about how that shit went down.”
“You’re sorry.” For not telling Quinn he remembered me all those years ago? That has to be what he means. Or maybe—
He heaves a breath and meets my eyes. “The games my brother was playing back then were fucked up. But if it makes you feel any better, I think he actually felt bad about you. After.”
“What?” I croak. It’s not what it sounds like. It’s— “After theblackout?”
“Blackout? Shit, I don’t remember that. Quinn doesn’t really drink much. If he blacked out, it wasn’t with me. I just know on the plane home the guy wasn’t himself. Said he might have taken things too far that time.”
I shake my head, the words coming at me making no sense.
That time.
The games he was playing.
The shop feels like it’s closing in, the walls pulsing around me.
If he didn’t black out…
If Patrick knows who I am…
If Quinn was talking about me on the plane…
Pain slices through me.
…Then all this time Quinn’s been playing me. He’s a liar who’s known from the start who I was and has been pretending this whole time.
My eyes cut to Patrick’s. “Why?”
The look he gives me is sympathetic. “Who the hell knows why. Maybe it’s a lifetime of having everything come too easy for him. He needed the challenge or something. Wanted to see how much he could get away with. How many girls. How far he could take it.”
