Cold.
Precise.
Impossible to forgive.
“You never said it was Noah,” she whispered.
“By the time you finally answered, you said you didn’t want to deal with another family crisis.”
Daniel looked toward their son.
“Noah begged me not to tell you. He believed that if you came home, you would lose the promotion and blame him for it forever.”
From the bed, Noah spoke clearly for the first time.
“You already blamed me once.”
Evelyn turned toward him.
“What are you talking about?”
Noah covered his face.
Daniel closed his eyes, as though this was the truth he had feared most.
“After the accident,” Noah said, “I heard you talking to Grandma.”
Evelyn did not move.
“You told her Rebecca would still be alive if she hadn’t needed to drive me to the tournament.”
His voice shook.
“You thought I was asleep, but I heard you.”
It felt as though all the air had been pulled from Evelyn’s body.
She remembered that night.
