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Greyson.
In the photo, Kennedy was sitting on the hood of the Civic, licking an ice cream cone. This was ournowKennedy, with her hair loose around her shoulders and a smile that crinkled little laugh lines at the corners of her eyes.
I swore and hit the brakes.
“There’s no fucking reason for us to be here, anyway,” I said. “Greyson already got to her. Picked up all the pieces, bought her ice cream, and probably told her some bullshit story.”
“So we tell her,” Jack said. “We’ve got to tell her.”
“Tell her what exactly? Your stepfather was an abusive creep who worked for some real bad dudes, and after we disappeared him, those dudes came after you? Maybe? Or maybe it was some of Greyson’s pals, since he was busy crawling his way up the ladder at the time?” Carter asked.
That wasn’t the stuff I was afraid to tell her.
It was what came later.
I’d seen the car fly around the corner. As she tried to escape, she leapt toward me, her arms outstretched. Thinking we were her safety when for whatever reason they’d come after her, it had to be us.
I’d raced toward her, but it had all happened in a second.
No one would ever want to hurt Kennedy.
They would hurt her to punish us.
Because anyone could tell how much she meant to us…
We’d ruined her life by loving her.
The car had slammed into her, sending her flying into the brick wall. I’d run as fast as I could, but I couldn’t get a glimpse of the driver or the license plate.
Then all I’d been able to see was Kennedy’s still, bloodied form.
But when I’d pressed my fingers to her throat, she’d still been alive. Her eyes were open, unfocused, her pupils uneven.
“Fuck, Kennedy,” I’d said, hearing my voice closer to tears than it had been since I was a kid. “Just hold on, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you.”
But of course, we fucking hadn’t. I’d been right there and I hadn’t been able to protect her, so as much as I’d hated keeping my distance from Kennedy, I’d hoped it would be the way to keep her safe.
Jack added, “Carter’s right. We’ve lied to her this long. We’ve got to tell her something, got to get her to trust us, got to make sure we can keep her close enough to protect, but…”
Jack shook his head. “Maybe she’s better off not knowing.”
“I can’t lie to her,” I said.
A week ago, I would’ve told him that meant he had better stay away from her.
They hadn’t let us ride in the ambulance with her. We’d followed in a car.
“We’ve got a chance here,” Jack had said slowly when we found out she had brain damage. That she was in a coma. That she was going to have amnesia.
That we could erase her from our lives so no one would ever come after her again.
I’d searched her bleeding body for the name necklace. It wasn't around her neck. It must have broken off in the accident.
I’d choked up at the thought of taking her name away, increasingly frantic as I searched for it.
Jack and Carter had dragged me away.
And before that…
