Page 100 of Liam

“Does he know about the car accident?”

“Yes, but not to the extent you now do.”

“Why haven’t you told him?”

Her shoulders lift with her harsh inhale. “Because that day we left, that emergency phone call I got? It was from Wyatt, asking me why I didn’t tell him that Roman was out of prison. I didn’t even know he was.”

Realization hits. “You were on your way here to see him?”

Heartbreak forms her smile. “I haven’t told him that part, either.”

“Why not?

She sighs. “Because he lives with enough guilt as it is when it comes to me.”

“It must run in the family,” I tell her, hopping off the truck.

“What must?”

“The guilt,” I call over my shoulder. I walk a few steps, searching the ground until I find what I want, then bend at the waist to collect it. “Come here.”

She’s slow to get down, slow to make her way toward me.

“Close your eyes,” I say, just above a whisper.

She does as I ask, her cheeks still damp from all the tears she’s shed. Darkness clouds her closed lids, and I’d wager she’s had very little sleep the past few days. And still, she’s beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Then again, she always has been.

I gently grasp her hand, hold it between us, palm up, and set my new find in the center of her palm.

“Open them,” I whisper, and so she does.

She looks down at the orange paint chip in her hand, her breath catching instantly. Tears well in her eyes when she looks up at me. “I know it’s too late, and it doesn’t mean anything, but I just need you to know… it never mattered before you—the whole Pierson thing. I could’ve happily gone another three years waiting for what I’m pretty sure is nothing, but with you, I couldn’t—Ican’tcontrol the feelings I have for you.” She pauses a beat. “You’re the only one, Liam.”

I reach up to cup her face, my chest warming when she leans into the touch.

“Why did you ask me to come here?” she questions. “I mean, why are you here at all?”

I wipe the fresh tears from her cheeks. “Because I owe you.”

“You oweme?” she asks, eyes wide.

I nod. “I owe you an apology. I was hurting—about the boyfriend thing. And I let it get so deep in my head that I made up a scenario that didn’t exist. I brought up things from our past I shouldn’t have?—”

“I had a right to know.”

“I know, but not like that,” I rush out. “Not with the sole intent to hurt you. And I’m sorry I did.” I swallow the knotted ache in my throat. “More than anything, though, I’m here because I want you to know that I forgive you. But my forgiveness doesn’t mean shit if you can’t forgive yourself. Foreverything.”

She pulls out of my reach. “You can’t just click your fingers and forget the past?—”

“I don’twantto forget the past,” I admit. “The past is what got me here.”

“And you think that mindset is enough to forgive me?”

“You think it’s not?”

She shakes her head. “Honestly, no.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just spend the rest of your days here proving otherwise.”

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