Page 37 of Crazy in Love

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Nick said. Not in a million years would he take the sheriff up on that offer. But he was too polite to say so. “Hope, let’s go.”

It was all he could do to get to the curb without crying. He tossed Hope the keys, slid into the passenger seat, and choked down the pain pill dry. Hope got into the driver’s seat but didn’t move to start the car.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Sweat sprouted on his forehead, and his vision tunneled. Just like it had before he’d passed out in Page Turners. He reclined the seat and laid flat, hoping to avoid a repeat of that incident. He grunted, and she burst into tears.

“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I called you. I’m sorry I did what I did. I’m sorry you’re in pain.”

“S’okay,” he said through gritted teeth. The pill took effect quickly, and within five minutes, he felt well enough to sit up.Hope had silently pulled herself together and appeared to be waiting to see if he really was okay.

“Please don’t die on me,” she said. “I’ve been through enough tonight.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. Just needed a minute.”

“That’s not what I meant. Can I do anything?” The shine had worn off her brazen veneer. The girl sitting next to him had been humbled and was rightly contrite. Grief and sorrow covered her young face. Guilt and fear reflected in her eyes. It didn’t seem like fear of getting in trouble, or guilt over the town finding out what she’d done. It was something more profound. Something that had nothing to do with a paint can or a dark-haired bad apple.

“What were you thinking? I could tell that loser was trouble from the second I laid eyes on him at the Cone Cave.”

“I know. He’s an idiot. I don’t know why I went out with him.”

“Is this about your mom?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you acting out because you’re having difficulty coping with her death? Have you talked to anyone about it?”

“You don’t understand.” She paused, then whispered in a voice so quiet he almost missed it, “I killed her.”

He shook his head. The drugs must be making him hear things. “What?”

“I mean, not like actual murder or anything. But it was my fault she got sick.”

“How do you figure that?” he said cautiously.

“I read online that ovarian cancer is caused by late pregnancy. Me. She had me when she was forty-five.”

Just saying the words out loud seemed to ease her burden. And he would bet his next paycheck that he was the first person she’d confided this to. Tears streamed down her face, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand.

Oh, geez.Tread lightly, Walker. Even dead sober, this would be a tricky conversation. Half-stoned from the Vicodin made it all the more challenging.

“The night I got shot…” An unexpected lump clogged his throat.

“Yeah,” she prompted when he didn’t go on right away.

“My partner was killed.”

“I heard that. I’m sorry.”

“In my head, I know it wasn’t my fault. But in my heart, it’s easy to take responsibility. What could I have done to prevent it? Why wasn’tIthe one shot dead?” He paused to gather his thoughts. “When there’s a tragedy, we tend to want to blame something or someone. It makes more sense to our brains to know there’s a reason. Awhysomething happened. But a lot of times, shit just happens. And it’s no one’s fault. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“But if it’s not my fault, whose is it?”

“It’s nobody’s fault, Hope.That’swhat I’m trying to say. It wasn’t my fault my partner died, and it’s not your fault your mom got sick. Tons of stuff causes cancer. A million different things could have contributed to it. And even if pregnancy was a factor, that doesn’t mean her death is on you.”

“Maybe,” she whispered.

She would need some time to process. Hopefully, just getting the admission off her chest and having him shed doubt on her fears would help.

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