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Smiling, I got back to my meal, and we eat in charged silence. Neither one of us has forgotten his ridiculous statement, and I don't think either one of us is going to let it go, but at this point it's anyone's guess who's going to break the stalemate.
I'm wiping my mouth after my last bite, when he breaks. "It's not bullshit. I told you what happened."
Good. I was on the verge of cracking. "Do you honestly believe that a seven-year-old should be held responsible for what happened that day?"
His stormy eyes tell me he believes he should. His words confirm it. "I begged her to let him come. If he hadn't been there, it never would have happened."
"Are you sure? Really?" I ask doubtfully. He scowls at me, but there's a tiny sliver of confusion that I pounce on. "I mean, it was his kid's birthday. There were a bunch of people there. Maybe they opened fire without actually knowing he was there."
I'm on a roll. I don't really know much of his life, or what happened that day, but I have questions, so I'm going to roll with it. "Was everyone else at the party law abiding? Not involved with your dad's shit? I wonder if they could have been targets? Or maybe they shot at your grandma to teach him a lesson."
Nick blinks at me. "They were there for my dad."
I nod, not needing to fight this battle. "Then I bet your grandma is in heaven, beating herself up for inviting him to the party that day."
His mouth drops open, and he jumps to her defense."It's not her fault. I begged her."
I snort a little. "Right. Because she gave you everything you ever begged her for, right?"
"No...she didn't. She was really good at saying no," he admits grudgingly. He's really tied to this idea of him being the bad guy.
"Cara was too. I think anyone responsible for raising a kid has to be. Otherwise it would be pure chaos." He nods, and I drive my point home. "She said yes that time because she wanted to. For no other reason. If she'd told you no, she knows you would have gotten over it. She could have moved the party to somewhere other than her house. She could have made a ton of different choices. But she was the adult. Hell, they were all adults, and they made their own choices."
I lock my eyes on his, and give him the truth he needs to hear. I don't know if he needs to hear it from me. Maybe not. But I'm going to say what all the other adults in his life should have said. "Nothing about what happened that day is your fault. You had no control over it. Those were adult actions and adult decisions. And trying to take responsibility for it is just dumb."
Nick shrinks back into the booth, seeming to deflate. He rubs his broad palms over his cheeks, then drives them into his hair. His gaze is stark and a little lost.
"I think I knew that."
"Then why do you keep trying to take responsibility for something that happened when you were little?"
"Because I believed it then, and I think it got to be a habit. I'm used to feeling guilty and like I'm..."
He trails off, and I give him a little push. "You're?"
"Like I'm worthless."
Tears prick my eyes, but I don't wipe them away. He deserves to have someone cry for him and for everything he's lost. "I'm sorry you had to live so much of your life believing that's true. Because it isn't. It never was. You were a sweet little boy who loved his grandma. And you lost her, and everything you knew that day. That's the truth of it."
Nick searches my face, the truth of my words finally penetrating through the wall of guilt he's built around himself. He reaches out, brushing a tear from my cheek. "For me?" He asks quietly.
I draw in a heavy breath, "For you. But also for me. What happened to us was awful, and it changed us. But that doesn't mean it has to be the end of our stories. I don't want it to be the end of mine."
"What do you want your story to be, Bree?"
"I don't know for sure. But I do know that surviving isn't good enough anymore. I want to live my life grateful to still be here. I want to deserve it."
"Of course you deserve it," he says harshly.
I shrug. "Maybe I do. But my life before was so...superficial, maybe? I worked, I had fun. That was kind of it. And I remember waking up in the hospital, wondering why I got a second chance when so many other women didn't. What made me deserve it? It just feels like I'm supposed to do something great now, to balance out this gift I've been given."
"That's fucked up," he says with a snarl.
"Well obviously. Just because I have your shit figured out, doesn't mean I have a handle on my own. I'm still a work in progress."
"I really want to tell you you're wrong...but I can't dammit."
"I know. It's a curse, being right. I've had to live with it my whole life."
