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She sighs. “I guess it was bound to happen. The man was skating on thin ice for so long. But on the other hand, who knew Dimitri would go after him as revenge againstme? Againstus?”
I wouldn’t put anything past him, but he has to know that every time he does something like this, the price on his head just grows and grows. He can’t show his face in the light of day now, we have so many men in the field hunting him down. It can’t be a pleasant way to live. Who knows, maybe he’s left the country to live out the rest of his days under an assumed identity. That’s what I would do if I were him.
Not that our men can’t find him living under an alias. It’s amazing what you can do with the right connections and enough money.
Charleigh looks at me. “Hey, did I overhear someone earlier talking about the truck driver who crashed into Stacey? Like you’ve seen him before or something?”
I pause. If I talk about this, I have to talk about Clara.
But the woman deserves answers.
“Yeah. The big rig driver who hit Stacey was the same truck driver who hit Clara and me a few years back. Seems neither were accidents.”
She grabs her stomach. “What?” she whispers.
“All these years I thought it was a random accident that took Clara from me. But it was intentional, and it was intended to takemeout. Not her. So, in the end, it’s still my fault. She hadn’t wanted to go out that night but I pressured her into it.”
Charleigh grabs my arm. “You can’t say that, Kir. Anyone could have been in the car with you.”
She weaves her fingers into mine, her hand small but warm.
“It hit you hard, didn’t it?” she asks quietly.
That would be an understatement.
“Do you still listen to her music?” Charleigh asks.
My head whips in her direction. “How do you know about that? Who told you?”
She sighs, rubbing her thumb over the top of my hand, her soft pale skin a contrast to my darker, weather-beaten skin.
It’s funny Charleigh’s asking me that question. As much as I would have preferred to keep my music-listening habits private, the truth is in recent months I have listened to Clara’s recordings less and less. Not that I don’t still miss her. I just have… less of a need to punish myself by playing her songs over and over.
“Niko told me you play her stuff, I think. I’m not sure, but it was a while ago. Was she a good singer?”
I wait for the stab in the heart that hits me every time I talk about her. But for some reason, this time, it doesn’t come.
Instead, thinking about her feels kind of good. “She was an amazing singer. She was doing lounge acts when I met her, playing piano and singing. She’d just started making recordings, at my encouragement, when she died.”
Charleigh looks at our clasped hands. “I’m so sorry. It must have been devastating.”
Time to change the subject.
“What was it like for you when your mother died?” I ask.
She gives a little laugh. “Same. I’d wake up every morning looking for her. When I’d remember she was gone, I was bereft. So lost. So empty. A ten-year-old kid needs her mother. What kept me going was taking care of Evie. Like right now, she’s still part of what’s keeping me going.”
“What else is keeping you going?” I ask, kissing her behind her ear.
Her breath comes out in a rush, like she’s been holding it and finally let it go. My girl is holding on to a lot right now… and it’s my job to help her plow through it so she can get back to herself and find her heart again.
If it’s not already too late.
* * *
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Charleigh
