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“I know all that.” I take a sip of my tea before returning the cup to its saucer. “But he looked familiar, Anders. Not because he was a photographer. It was something else. And then last night…”
“Yes?” He leans closer, not touching his tea.
I tap my nails against the tablecloth as I attempt to collect my thoughts. “I dreamt of him shooting me.”
He gives me a comforting look. “Dreaming about a traumatic experience is common. After time, it—”
“And also the fire.”
“Oh.” His postures slumps.
“Charles Thacker, the shooter, was there, too. He was standing right outside the SUV. He lit a match and set the car on fire.”
“Ezzy…”
I hold up my hand. “I know it was just a dream. But what if it wasn’t? What if that’s why this guy was so familiar to me? What if I saw him outside the car that night, but my brain forgot until I was face-to-face with a reminder?”
“When the car crashed into you, you lost consciousness. You didn’t wake up again until the SUV was fully engulfed in flames.”
“I know that.” I worry my bottom lip, debating whether to finally share the one part of that night I’ve never told anyone. “But I did steal a glance back at the car. When Adam realized we were being chased. He told me to stay down. I didn’t listen.” I swallow hard. “I peeked up and looked out the back window seconds before the car hit us.”
I don’t tell my brother I’ve replayed that one second over in my mind for the past nine years. Wondered if Adam would still be alive if I’d listened to him and stayed down.
“Are you sure about that?” Anderson asks. “It’s not that I don’t believe you but—”
“Truth be told, I’m not sure of anything.” I push out a long sigh, feeling like I’m losing my mind. I’ve never questioned reality as much as I have over the past twenty-four hours. “I haven’t thought about any of this stuff in years, but now that I’m back here…”
“It’s bringing forward all these memories.” He pauses, then narrows his gaze on me, giving me a knowing look. “And feelings.”
I part my lips, about to tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about. But I respect my brother too much to blatantly lie to his face. I should have known he’d pick up on the fact that my unease wasn’t solely due to my unsettled dreams but also my confusing feelings toward Creed.
“That doesn’t matter,” I say flippantly. “It won’t change the past.”
He sighs as he grabs my hand in his. “If there’s anyone who knows how impossible it is to change the past, it’s me. All we can do is move forward and hope to learn from our mistakes.”
“My dear brother, is that hope I hear in your voice?” I joke in an attempt to cut through the thick tension.
Or my unspoken confession that I still have strong feelings for the one man who can never be mine.
“And if it is?”
“Then I’m bloody relieved.” Pulling away, I place one of thepetit-fourson the small plate beside my teacup and slice into the light cake with a fork. “Does this changed outlook have something to do with Nora? Have you heard from her?”
“Unfortunately, no, but I had a long chat with dad, thanks to someone spilling the beans about me potentially removing myself from the line of succession.” He gives me a playful look of admonishment.
“He deserved to know,” I argue in my defense.
“I’m grateful you told him. He helped me realize this isn’t the end of the world. I suppose you did too.”
“Me?” I straighten. “How?”
“By what you did at that soup kitchen. You saw a problem and did everything you could to fix it, to hell with how the royal household would respond. I saw the old Esme again. It made me realize I’m in a unique position. I can give a face and voice to those living with MS. I’ve decided to talk publicly about my diagnosis. Already reached out to a journalist and sat down for a phone interview.”
My eyes widen. “You did?”
The royal household seemed quite insistent on controlling when he went public with everything, unsure of how this might affect the referendum.
“And it’s not anyone in the royal household’s pocket, either. In fact, it’s not a reporter from this country. That way, I know the story will be free from the royal household’s influence.”
