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Her thumb wipes the wetness off my cheek.
“It was a terrible, senseless accident. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know. It doesn’t stop the guilt.”
She nods, her eyes searching mine. “I get it.” There’s pain etched in her face, pain that isn’t mine, but I recognize it all the same.
My head cocks to one side. “What is it?”
She swallows. “I was one of the last people to see Aria alive. I’m the one who told the twins to go home, that night right before their accident, knowing neither had a driver’s license. They snuck out of the house to follow me to some party—one of them must have overheard me talking about it on the phone. I didn’t realize they had followed me. I told them to go home, then they did, and she died. It haunted me. It still haunts me.”
I brush her hair back from her face. “You’re no more to blame than I am.”
She bites her lip. “It was my fault. I should have left with them. I should have made sure they got home safely. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to leave the party. The guilt ate me alive for years. And then I shared the details with Mindy and she completely lost it on me. She blamed me for Aria’s death and never let me forget it—for years.”
Ah. So this is the source of the fight. “She didn’t mean it. She was hurting too. I’m sure she used it as an excuse. When you’re hurting, the easiest thing to do is project all those feelings onto someone else.”
She frowns. “Why couldn’t she be like us and just blame herself?”
I smile. “Most people like to have someone else to lash out at.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I know. You’re right. She admitted as much to me last year and apologized and all that. But for nearly a decade, she treated me like shit. And now I’m supposed to what, pretend it never happened?”
Her guilt, her pain about the past wraps around my heart and squeezes. It mirrors my own. “No, you shouldn’t pretend anything. You’re right to feel hurt. To be upset, to be angry, to feel whatever you feel. But I don’t think this is about forgiving her. Can you forgive yourself?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Can you?”
“I don’t know either.” I pick up her hand, weaving our fingers together.
Her eyes dip to where our hands are joined. “Maybe we can both try.”
“Maybe we can.”
She bites her lip. “Although, I’m not sure anyone in my family will forgive me when I tell them about something I’ve been keeping secret for a while.”
“What is it?”
She squeezes my hand. “The thing is... I’ve been looking for our mom.”
ChapterEighteen
Taylor
I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.
His head dips and he brushes a kiss against my mouth. A silent message that whispers understanding. “Why haven’t you told them?”
The tension inside me relaxes. I should have known he would respond with curiosity and not judgment. “They hate her. Rightfully so. She left when we were so young, and none of us really understand why. I was only two. The twins were barely one. We never knew her, and I guess I want to know what she was like. Finley and Mindy are the only ones who remember anything about her, and they don’t talk about it.”
His free hand trails up my arm. “What made you want to look for her after all this time?”
“We were going through Dad’s room and I found a picture of her and it was,” I shrug, “I don’t know, it was weird. I had never seen her before and I had never thought about her much. She was always some distant, unimportant figure from my past who didn’t matter. But then seeing her face, it was like suddenly she became a real person with hopes and dreams and demons. I guess... I want to know if I’m like her.”
His brows dip. “What do you mean, like her?”
My fingers twitch, still in his grasp. “Never able to stay in one place. The type of person who can leave everyone behind.”
The itch under my skin, the thrumming in my veins to go and go and never stop... is that why Mom left, because she felt the urge to run like I do?
