He releases a half-hearted laugh, but then his face just falls into the saddest frown, and his eyebrows draw apart. “Have we? We’ve been wrong?” He takes a step closer to me, finally looking me in the eyes. His expression is full of betrayal. “Did she not leave my son to die? Did your best friend not spend his last hours on this earth alone on a deserted road barely breathing because of her?” A tear escapes, and he angrily wipes it away. He’s so angry he has to blow out a steady breath to keep from screaming at me.
“It was an accident, Patrick.” My voice is almost a whisper. “She loved Scotty. She panicked and made the wrong choice, but she paid for that choice. At what point can we stop blaming her?”
He chooses to answer that question with his fist. He punches me hard in the mouth.
I do nothing, because I feel so guilty that they found out this way I’d let him punch me a million more times, and I still wouldn’t defend myself.
“Hey!” My father is running out of my house, heading toward us. Patrick hits me again, right when Grace runs out her front door. My father pushes himself between us before Patrick can get in a third punch.
“What the hell, Pat?” my dad yells.
Patrick doesn’t look at him. He’s looking at me without even an ounce of regret. I take a step forward to plead with him because I don’t want this conversation to end now that it’s finally out there, but Diem runs outside. Patrick doesn’t see her before he tries to lunge at me again.
“For Christ’s sake!” my dad yells, pushing him back. “Stop it!”
Diem starts crying when she takes in the commotion. Grace reaches for her and starts to take Diem in the house, but Diem wants me. She’s reaching for me, and I don’t know what to do.
“I want to go with Ledger,” Diem pleads.
Grace half turns and looks at me. I can tell by the look of betrayal on her face that she might even be hurting more than Patrick is right now.
“Grace, please. Just hear me out.”
She turns her back to me and disappears with Diem inside her house. I can hear Diem cry, even after the door closes, and I feel like she just ripped open my chest.
“Don’t you dare try to put your choices on us,” Patrick says. “You can choose that woman, or you can choose Diem, but don’t you dare try to make us feel guilty for a choice we came to peace with five years ago. You did this to yourself, Ledger.” Patrick turns and walks back inside.
My father releases my arm. He moves so that he’s in front of me, and I’m sure he’s going to try to calm me down, but I don’t give him the opportunity. I walk to my truck and I leave.
I go to the bar, but instead of going inside, I beat on the door to Roman’s stairwell. I beat constantly until he opens it. He looks confused, but then he sees my busted lip, and he says, “Ah, hell.” He steps aside and then follows me up the stairs to his apartment.
I go to the kitchen and wet some paper towels to wipe the blood from my mouth.
“What happened?”
“I spent the night with Kenna. The Landrys found out.”
“Patrick did that?”
I nod.
Roman’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t hit him back, did you? He’s like sixty years old.”
“Of course not, but not because of his age. He’s as strong as I am. I didn’t hit him back because I deserved this.” I pull the paper towel from my mouth, and the whole thing is covered with blood. I walk to the bathroom and inspect my face. My eye looks okay. It’ll probably be a little bruised, but my lip is sliced up on the inside. I think he hit me so hard my tooth cut through my lip. “Fuck.” Blood is pouring out of my mouth. “I think I need stitches.”
Roman looks at my mouth and then winces. “Shit, man.” He grabs a washcloth and wets it, then hands it to me and says, “Come on, I’ll drive you to the ER.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
KENNA
There’s a little more bounce in my step as soon as I walk out of the store and spot Ledger’s truck across the parking lot.
He sees me exit the store, so he drives across the lot to pick me up. I climb inside the truck and scoot across the seat to give him a kiss. He doesn’t turn to face me, so my lips land on his cheek.
I would sit in the middle, but his console is down, and he’s got a drink in the cup holder, so I sit in the passenger seat and pull on my seat belt.
He’s wearing shades and hasn’t looked at me since I got into the truck. I begin to grow concerned, but then he reaches across his console to hold my hand, and it puts me at ease. I was starting to worry that he spent the day regretting last night, but I can feel in the way he squeezes my hand that he’s happy to see me. Paranoia is annoying. “Guess what?”