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Really freaking determined.
But as I stand here, in this beautiful setting, listening to Jesse tell me the ugly truth, it all sounds like fiction. Like something straight out of a movie. One of those shitty movies that either don’t give you a happy ending or cut to credits before you’re ready to let go, leaving you hanging.
And I hate it.
I hate not knowing.
More than I hate anything else.
Jesse’s silent as he stares into my eyes like he’s looking for something. But God knows what he’s seeking because I feel completely dead inside.
Jade’s death was an accident, and he ran, potentially leaving us both to die, while—Wait, what?
“You left,” I say quietly as thoughts swirl in my mind.Oh God. “You left!” I say louder this time, anger taking over the emptiness. “I was lucky to be alive. What if no one had found me? Did you even stop to check on Jade?”
Jesse’s eyes widen before I see a hint of his own anger. “Do you really think I’d do that?” He pauses as his head drops back, running his hands down his face. “Tate went down to check on Jade while I carried you to the fucking road,” he says through his fingers. “I waited with you in my arms, your blood soaking my clothes, checking your pulse every other second. Istayeduntil someone came to help.”
“The driver who found you saw someone else as he was approaching, but he didn’t give a good description.”
A memory of one of the many police interviews comes rushing back, and I draw in a breath. I knew that. I even used it in an argument with my mom.
That someone was Jesse.
“Walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. I had every intention of finding you again and making sure you were okay, but…”
“But?”
I knew there was more. There had to be more. Why would he leave?
“Tate was known by the police. He was on his last chance. He couldn’t be there. So, when he texted me to say Jade was dead, I told him to run.”
I cringe, but I guess I’d do the same for a friend. “Okay, that’s his excuse. What about yours?”
Jesse sighs, but it’s not out of frustration—he’s defeated. “I couldn’t get dragged into it either.”
My heart jolts, like it knows something I don’t, and a tightness fills my chest. I’m the one who should be hurting, yet I’m breaking for him.Why?
We both fall silent until I can’t take it any longer. I don’t know how much more I can process tonight, and I also get the feeling Jesse’s not giving any more away.
“Take me back to Pippa’s, please,” I say softly, my voice coming out raspier than I would have liked.
I don’t wait for an answer before walking back to Jesse’s truck. When we’re both settled inside, Jesse’s hands clench around his thighs before he grips the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the water.
“I’m sorry, Willow. I really am.” His gaze briefly flashes my way, and his expression displays his honesty. He is sorry. But for which part—the accident or the fact I found out?
Without another word, Jesse takes in a deep breath and puts the truck into gear. As he turns his head to reverse, he grabs the back of my seat, and just like when we left the hockey stadium earlier, I have to bite my tongue so I don’t react. So I don’t look at the bulging muscles in his arm, or lean forward to smell his familiar cologne. It’s hard to stay angry when my entire body warms around him.
It was one week, Willow. Get a grip.
We’re quiet on the drive, with me staring out the window as I replay our conversation over and over in my mind, watching the world go by but never actually seeing it.
Jesse said he’d seen me before but I don’t remember him.
We hung out on the mountain.
Jade and Tate argued.
Jade and I had a heated discussion.
