Page 146 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Anthony
I feel the blood braining from my head, leaving me dizzy and reeling. Every muscle in my body tenses to keep me upright. I can’t go down, not when Iris—Ivy—is ready to walk out on me. The suitcase makes it abundantly clear. I need to say something—anything—but nothing comes.
She glares at me, her eyes like chipped ice. Fresh blood beads on a cut on her lower lip. Just what kind of frenzy was she in to injure herself like that?
“We came from Tempérane, Louisiana. We knew each other before. We dated, didn’t we?” she says, her voice like a naked blade.
We did, but how does she know all this? Did her memory return since we came back from the funeral? How do I fix this?
“What’s the matter? Nothing to say? That’s fine. I’d rather you stay quiet than throw more lies at me.” She shakes her head. “Why would you lie to me? Why would you call me by another woman’s name when you know it isn’t mine?”
That I can answer, even when the room’s spinning around. “Because your name doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is you’re alive and here with me.” Each word comes out taut and raw. I will her to believe me that much, even though I know I have no right.
Her eyes soften for a second before she firms her mouth. The sight is like a shiv into my heart. “So you thought I died, too?” she says in an ugly, mocking tone I’ve never heard her use before.
I’m going to lose her if I don’t fix this now. My head finally kicks in, my tongue no longer thick and stupid. “Yes! I thought I’d lost you after the accident. When I saw you again, I thought I was going insane—seeing things—because I missed you so much.”
“So when you realized who I was, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid.” My answer is honest, no bullshit.
Ivy looks at me like she doesn’t understand what I mean. No—worse, she looks at me like she doesn’t believe me, period.
Lay it all out. Like you should’ve a long, long time ago. Her suitcase is packed and lying on our bed. Do it now, before she walks away.
But I can’t. If I tell her everything… I pick up on the one thing I can tell her—the least damaging reason I was scared shitless for her safety. “Listen to me, Ivy. Everyone thought you died—me, my brothers, the police, everyone—because we found a body in your car in a bayou. In it was the body of a young woman who was damaged enough that her face was a mess. But she had strawberry-blond hair like you, and she was in a blue dress—the same type you wore that day. We also found your pendant—the one I originally gave you back in Louisiana, the one you’re wearing right now—and your purse, so the cops decided the body was you. Everyone thought you were gone.”
I see her eyes flicker as she puts the facts together. I almost wish she were just a little bit slow. But I know better. My Ivy is brilliant. She’ll get it quickly enough. Trepidation winds through me.
Finally, she inhales sharply. “That’s the girl in the blue dress I told you about, isn’t it? The girl you said you couldn’t help me find.”
I close my eyes briefly, wishing with all my heart that I could give her an answer that won’t make her hate me more. But I can’t. “Yes.”
She looks away as though she can’t bear the sight of me. It’s the same reaction Mother had when I went back in Tempérane to seek her forgiveness. She treated me like I wasn’t there, then, when I confronted her, she told me that not even my death could make up for what I’d done.
The despair I felt back then resurfaces, gripping me so hard that I can’t breathe. Urgency loosens my tongue, and words pour out of me like a monster flood breaking through a dam. “Ivy, I couldn’t tell you. Someone out there killed that girl. Even though the cops back then didn’t think so, it was a deliberate murder—the car was hit twice. And Sam’s accident looks exactly like that one—the storm, the nighttime hit-and-run…everything! I couldn’t let the killers know you were alive. They could come back to finish you for real this time—either because you were the real target or to get rid of a witness to the crime. And Jill’s death wasn’t an accident either. She was looking into it for me.”
She stares at me long and hard. I can’t tell what’s in her mind. Please. Let it be something forgiving. Let her remember how much she loves me.
Certain sins can destroy that love. You killed your mother’s love. Surely, Ivy’s love isn’t any stronger than your own mother’s.
I grit my teeth. I don’t need this right now.
“You know when I came home and jumped into the pool, to try to trigger more memories?” she asks, her voice awful. “You proposed to me that day.”
“Yes,” I whisper, goosebumps breaking out down my arms at the memory. I’ll never forget the horror of that as long as I live.
“I did that because earlier than afternoon I had seen Sam. He told me I was driving the car when it went over the bridge, and I was the reason the girl died. He said the girl’s mom blamed me and wanted me to remember what I did forever—that I was a killer.”
Oh no, Ivy.Painful regret surges inside me. I know what it’s like to carry the burden of somebody’s death on my conscience. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, and even now it’s weighing on me. Ivy should never have experienced that.
She continues, “If you’d told me the truth, I would’ve known better than to believe him. And I certainly wouldn’t have suffered for nothing. And to think I felt guilty for hurting you by not being able to accept your proposal…” She shakes her head, her lips curling into an ugly line. “I couldn’t say yes back then because I didn’t feel worthy. What if I was a killer? But the real reason should’ve been because you’re a manipulative asshole. Just like Sam.”
“Ivy…” My voice cracks. I can’t think of a single thing to defend myself, because I deserve every bit of her hate and anger. But what scares me the most is the way the animated light in her eyes has dimmed, her wan face and the air sawing in and out of her with such labored effort…as though she’s slowly dying.
Like when the life leached out of Katherine under my bloody hands.
