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“You should feel guilty.”
Her head jerks back, as if I landed a physical blow. “What do you want from me? What do you expect me to do? You don’t think I would do anything, give up anything, give up everything, my own life, whatever it took, to go back and change that night? But I can’t, Mindy. I can’t change anything, and neither can you.”
A choked sound grabs our attention, both of us turning toward the source of the sound in the kitchen.
Finley’s eyes are wide and gleaming as she glances between me and Taylor.
“Taylor. It wasn’t your fault.” Her voice is shaking with emotion.
Taylor huffs. “Tell that to the ice queen.”
Finley’s eyes move to mine, confusion creasing her forehead. “You’ve been blaming Taylor for Aria’s death? That’s what this has been about this whole time?”
Shame floods me, uprooting a knee-jerk reaction of denial. “You don’t understand.”
She spreads her hands. “So explain it.”
My whole body is a knot of tension, a volcano ready to erupt. “Taylor saw them that night. She saw Aria and Jake at that stupid party. She’s the reason they were there to begin with. She should have taken them home. Instead she told them to leave and then they—” The words get clogged in my throat. We all know the rest of the story.
Finley bites her lip, her expression a mixture of concern and disbelief.
Why isn’t she angry?
“It wasn’t Taylor’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
I shake my head in denial. It has to besomeone’sfault.
Finley continues. “We’ve all suffered. It’s been ten years, and we’re all still suffering.” She blinks and two twin tears track down her cheeks. “She wouldn’t have wanted this. She wouldn’t have wanted to be the cause of this.”
Taylor stalks past Finley, out the side door, slamming it shut behind her.
On numb legs I walk over to the couch and sink down onto it.
Finley moves to my side, placing a soft hand on my shoulder.
“I can’t go back,” I tell her. I don’t know if I’m talking about the bonfire or something else.
“I know.”
My body is going numb along with my emotions.
“Do you want me to stay?” Finley asks, her voice low.
“No. I need some time alone.”
“Okay.” She squeezes my shoulder and then leaves. I listen to the cart hum to life and then the crunch of leaves under the tires as they drive away.
I sit there for I don’t even know how long before irritation itches at me, making me get up and go outside.
I have to get out of here.
Where could I go? I can’t just leave. Luke is taking the SUV to Corning tomorrow for Thanksgiving so . . . I’ll be trapped.
I pace back and forth in front of the house, unsure what to do with myself. I can’t stay here. I can’t sit across the table from Taylor tomorrow and eat turkey and pretend like nothing is wrong.
I need to get out of here, and I really only have one option.
I pack an overnight bag and then walk briskly through the camp. I make it to Luke’s cabin and let myself inside.
