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“He didn’t do it!” Kim cries.
The room goes still.
All eyes shoot to Kim, whose own are glistening.
“He didn’t do it, Daddy,” she whispers, meeting his stunned gaze. “It was me.”
No one moves as Ben stares at Kim with a blank expression.
He shakes his head.
“It was me, Dad,” she says, blinking mascara-stained tears down her cheeks.
“No,” he rasps out.
“Yes! It was me.Iwas driving.Ikilled Amber.”
“Stop!”
“It’s true! Tristan took the fall because you’d already convinced him he screwed up his life. He didn’t want to damage our family and my future on top of it. But he didn’t do it, Daddy. All he wanted to do was help. Everyone has to stop hurting him. Please, stop hurting him,” she sobs.
Tears stream down her cheeks as her parents stare in numb silence. Tristan’s jaw is tight, his gaze still fixed on the table. He hasn’t moved, as if he’s shut down and disappeared. I reach for his hand but he pulls it away and props his elbows on the table. He rests his forehead on his fists, and I know he’s shattering inside. Alone. In silence. Like always.
“No,” Ben says in a hoarse voice as his gaze crosses to his son. “No, you’re lying. You’re trying to make me—”
“I’m not lying,” Kim chokes out. “He didn’t do it. He didn’t deserve to go to prison. He doesn’t deserve any of this! He’s lost four years of his life for something he didn’t do. Four years in hell thinking everyone hates him—”
“No!” Ben cries, jumping to his feet. He shoves the chair over and locks his hands on his head. “Fuck!”
Furious tears coat his eyes as he paces violently—just like Tristan does when he’s upset. Kim was right about that too. Theyareso much alike, too much.
“Ah!” Ben screams, kicking the chair.
It slams into the wall with a grislycrack. He spins back, fuming, until his eyes lock on his son.
Immediately, his anger wilts into wet streaks of agony. Tristan lifts his gaze with a pain so deep it pulls a choked sob from the man responsible. Years of arguments and lies hang in the air around them. Years of vicious betrayal.
“Tristan…” Ben breathes out. “Oh god. Oh my god.”
Tristan blinks back, barely holding on. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispers. “I didn’t… I just…”
“No,” Ben cries. “No, no, no.” He stalks around the table and yanks his son from the chair into his arms. He holds tight as Tristan collapses against him and buries his face in his shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell us, son?” Ben says in a muffled voice. “Why did you go through this alone? We…Why?!”
“You wouldn’t have believed me.”
Ben sags from the blow and clenches his eyes shut.
“My god, Tristan. I can’t… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, son.”
He kisses the side of his head and pulls him closer like he never intends to let go.
“Forgive me. I’m so, so sorry.”
Tristan nods against his shoulder, and Ben twists his fists in the back of his shirt.
I wipe at my eyes, desperate to hold onto him as well. My throat aches as I watch the truth crush father and son into a living monument to fractured love. It took so many mistakes to make a mess this big, and I hate that the bulk of the punishment fell on the person least deserving, the one who was just trying to make it better. Everything in me wants to hide him away. To guard him close and protect him from more heartache. I can’t stomach the thought of anything hurting him again, and a wave of nausea runs through me when I remember why we’re here. Oh god, what if they send him back?
