Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
I made a wish.
“I wish we had more time,” I whispered into her cold ear. “We have so much more to do together. I have so much more love to give you. Come back to me. I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again…”
Reaching out, I grab Kelley’s necklace and clench it in my fist. The thin chain breaks.
Kelley’s face recoils as if I’ve just kicked him. “What the hell are you doing?”
I hold the necklace up. The star dangles between us. Shiny. Spinning. Just like it was when he was crouching over me. I didn’t see a shooting star that day on the side of the road. It wasn’t even nighttime. And we were in the middle of a snowstorm. The sky wasn’t even visible.
There was no star. There was just—
“This…” is all I can say.
My brain wrangles with disbelief as the memory falls into place. Kelley was there. But how could he be? I’ve gotta be wrong… if he was there, he would’ve told me.
“What’s wrong with you?” He snatches the necklace out of my hand. “My mother gave it to me the day they adopted me. It’s my birthstone.”
“I’ve seen it before…”
“No shit. I never take it off. Until you just fucking broke it.”
My heart pounds, galloping like a wild horse as long-buried memories of that day grow even clearer. I didn’t just see the star. There was also a muffled voice telling me to hold on.
A familiar voice that’s crawled out of the recesses of my mind.
Kelley was there. And he never told me.
“You were there.” I force the words out over the rage, confusion, and disappointment that’s throttling through my chest. “You were fucking there.”
His face falls, his complexion turning ghastly white as he sits back on his heels.
“Alex…” He inhales a deep breath.
“Tell me my head is fucked up and you weren’t there, Kelley.”
Silence swells between us, so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Finally, he swallows and runs his tongue nervously along his teeth. “You’re not fucked up,” he says quietly. “I was there.”
The ground suddenly feels squishy beneath me. Like I might fall through and get swallowed up like quicksand. “How the hell is that possible?”
“I don’t even know where to begin—”
My brain can’t unpack this fast enough. I can’t grasp any logical explanation of why he would be there and why he never told me.
“Start at why the fuck you were at the scene of the accident!” I roar, needing an answer. The puppy whimpers beside me and hides his head under my leg.
“My father was driving the truck that hit you. I was in the cab with him. I used to go on trips with him sometimes to keep him company. He was killed on impact.” His eyes well up and he takes a long breath. “I saw your car go over the barrier. I called 9-1-1 and climbed down there. It was…” He closes his eyes for a long moment, his breaths deepening. “It was bad. I did everything the operator told me to do while we waited for the ambulance. You lost consciousness right after I got to you. Your head and face were pouring blood.”
Yeah. That would’ve been the branch that impaled my eye. Or the window that cracked open the side of my head.
My heart pounds as he continues.
“There wasn’t anything I could do to help you. My collarbone and arm were broken. All I could do was wrap my jacket around your head and face and apply pressure.”
His voice echoes in my head like a fever dream. I feel sick trying to process the fact that Kelley was involved in the accident that took my wife and ruined my life.
And his father caused it.
And he’s kept this from me for almost eighteen years.
Feelings of betrayal, denial, and disbelief come at me in waves, all battling one thought that keeps rising to the top—he’s my best friend. He helped me through the most horrific time of my life.
I can’t ignore he was also the one who called 911. He might’ve saved mine and Lily’s lives. We all could’ve died in that ditch if Kelley hadn’t climbed down there and called for help.
But he still never told me the truth.
I stare at him. “Your father killed my wife?” My voice is cold, filled with accusation.
His expression twists with pain. “It was an accident. He was always a safe driver. We hit a patch of ice on the turn and he couldn’t get the truck under control.” He shakes his head slowly. “It was a fucking freaking accident.”
“And the night at the bar, when you drove me home? I’m supposed to believe that was just a freak fucking coincidence?”
Did he plan our meeting? Was our friendship some kind of guilt-infused mission to make him feel better?
“I recognized you when you threw the beer bottle at me. You were a mess.”