Page 92 of Meet Dare

“No shit. You never listened to me when you were a teenager. This gray hair?” He motions to his temples where his brown hair is now gray. “It’s all your fault.”

“No way. Olivia’s responsible for at least eighty percent of your gray hair.”

I’ll accept credit for twenty percent, but I won’t go any higher.

“Thank the stars above the two of you fought like cats and dogs when you were teenagers. If the two of you ever teamed up?” He shivers. “I don’t want to think about it.”

I guess he’s forgetting about the time Olivia signed me out of school and took me to her ‘guy’ to have a fake ID made before we went to the Anheuser-Busch brewery. We spent the afternoon drinking there before we decided riding the Gateway Arch while drunk would be the best experience of our lives.

I’m pretty sure the other three passengers in our barrel to the top didn’t agree when I started throwing up all over the place. Heights and movement is not a good combination with drinking. Live and learn. At least the police gave us a warning that time.

Beckett grabs my wrist and pulls until I’m forced to sit down next to him.

“Enough with the jokes and distractions. I’m being serious. You didn’t cause Mom and Dad’s accident.”

“And I’m being serious, too, when I say I did.”

He squeezes my hand. “Can you explain why you think you caused the accident?”

“No, but I can explain how I did cause the accident.”

He arches his brow and waits. Crap on a stick. Where did those words come from? I didn’t plan on explaining shit to Beckett today.

“If I wanted to, I could.”

“Don’t be a brat. I’m trying to help you here.”

“And I never asked for your help.”

“Too bad. You’re my sister. You’re getting my help whenever you need it, whether you ask for it or not.”

“And, apparently, whether I want it or not.”

“Damn straight.” He nods. “Now, go on. Tell me how you used your magical broom to push Mom and Dad’s car into oncoming traffic.”

“I’m not a witch. I don’t have a magical broom.”

“How else could you have caused the accident? Or did you forget you were at home with me when it happened?”

That’s it. I’m done. I have had it with him and his bullshit. I’ll tell him what I did and then he’ll know. Of course, it will be the end of our relationship when he realizes the truth. I killed our parents.

I surge to my feet. “Because I’m the reason they were on the road late at night when it was raining and sleeting outside. Me!” I pound my chest as I shout.

“If it weren’t for me, they would have never gone to the pharmacy to get cough medicine. If I hadn’t been such a sickly child, they wouldn’t have been out on those treacherous roads.”

I can’t breathe. Where’s all the air? Did it disappear? I clutch my chest as I try to force oxygen into my lungs. But there’s none to be had.

Beckett pushes me into a chair and presses on the back of my neck until I’m forced to bend over and place my head between my knees.

“Just breathe, Cassie. Just breathe.”

“H-h-h-ow?”

“Breathe with me. Big inhale in. Big exhale out.”

I follow his guidance until I remember how to inhale air into my lungs.

Beckett rubs my back. “You okay now?”

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