“Projecting what? Karly, what are you saying?”
“I don’t want to point fingers.” Her eyes rest on mine and she hesitates. “There were rumors after you left … that the McCrays had something to do with the hit-and-run. River … specifically.”
My heart freefalls and my mouth dries before I have a chance to respond.
I don’t want to believe this.
I refuse to believe he’s capable of something so horrific.
Karly reaches for me, placing her hand on my arm. “Leighton, you okay?”
“Do you … do you think it’s true?” My eyes blur and mist, but I blink away the urge to submit to this ridiculous theory just yet.
She shrugs, rubbing my arm like that could possibly comfort me at a time like this. “It’s just a rumor. People talk all the time. It’s probably nothing.”
“They wouldn’t point fingers at River for no reason, right? There had to be a reason. Somebody saw something?”
“It was so long ago, sweetie. I have no idea. I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew it would get you worked up.”
“For twelve years, we’ve had to live with not knowing who left my father there to die.” My voice trembles, and from the corner of my eye, I see a woman watching us, listening in, but I don’t care. “I don’t want to believe it was him, Karly. It can’t be him.”
“Ask him,” she says. “His reaction should tell you all you need to know.”
My heart races, my palms sweat. “I have to go.”
I have to get home.
I have to talk to him.
I have to put this ridiculous theory to rest as soon as possible.
Chapter Forty-Three
River
“You’re back early.” I climb down from my tractor, strutting up to Leighton as she leans against the side of my truck, arms folded. I lean down to kiss her, but she turns her cheek. The back of the truck is empty. Not a single grocery bag in sight. “What’s going on?”
My stomach is hard as a rock, and she looks like she’s about to be sick.
“Is it Seth?” I ask. “Did that son of a bitch bother you?”
“River.” Her eyes snap to mine, and she seems to be on the verge of tears. “Twelve years ago this month, my father was coming back from checking on his cattle because one of our neighbors called and said we had a gate knocked down. It was a Saturday night. It was the middle of the night. Maybe two in the morning? Three? We’re not entirely sure. He was driving down a gravel road a few miles west of here when someone hit him. His truck was hit on the side, flipping him upside down. He landed in a ravine. His seatbelt jammed.” Her gaze falls to my boots and her bottom lip trembles. “He drowned because he couldn’t get free. Whoever hit him drove off. Didn’t even try and help. Someone could’ve cut him free. Someone could’ve saved him. Instead they left, like a fucking coward, and they left him there to die.” Tears streak her cheeks, but she smears them away with angry swipes. “He didn’t have to die. He didn’t deserve to die. Our family was destroyed that night, all because someone was afraid to do the right thing.”
My heart pounds in my ears, her words becoming tinny and distant.
This is the past coming full circle, just as I always knew it would.
And this is why I don’t deserve her.
This is why I don’t deserve happiness.
I stole her happiness, the universe stole mine.
“Karly said there are rumors …” her voice breaks. “People say you had something to do with it … tell me it’s not true, River.”
I lick my lips, wondering how the hell I’m going to break this to her in a way that won’t shatter her world more than it’s already been shattered.
“Oh my god.” Her shaking fingers cover her lips, her brown eyes round as saucers. She looks at me like the monster I am. “It was you. You left him to die. You killed my father.”
“I’m sorry, Leighton. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Shaking her head, she turns away from me, striding back to the house as if she can’t get away from me fast enough. I don’t chase her. I don’t follow her. I let her go, because offering her comfort at this point would be sick and cruel, and the world’s already been cruel enough to her.
Falling to my knees, I squeeze my eyes tight, feeling hope slip from my fingertips, dissipating into nothingness.
I had no business feeling that kind of hope to begin with.
And I damn well knew better.
I’m going to do the right thing—what I should’ve done years ago before Seth convinced a young, terrified version of myself out of coming forward.
But it ends now.
I’m going to turn myself in.
Leighton wheels her suitcases out of the front door twenty minutes later. She won’t look at me, but I watch her. I watch her go, and I let the pain of this moment sink in because I need to feel it.
And this punishment? It’s only the beginning.
But I won’t feel sorry for myself … I’ve earned it.
Leighton’s car kicks dust and gravel as she speeds out of my driveway and down the road, and I lean against my truck, frozen, unable to move, replaying this moment again and again like some masochistic asshole.
I’m seconds from heading inside when Molly Fasthorse’s Suburban pulls up.
“River, what the hell is going on?” she hops out. “I just saw Leighton speeding down the road, bawling her eyes out.”
My mouth tightens. I hate that she’s hurting, and I’ll never forgive myself as long as I live.
“You got a minute?” I ask, arms folding.
I’ve never told this story to anyone … at least not out loud … but I’ve replayed the moment in my head more times than I could possibly count.
“What the hell is going on? You’re scaring me.” Molly yanks her sunglasses from her face. “Tell me what the hell is happening here. She was literally at my house a couple hours ago telling me how much she liked you.”
Fuck.
“Twelve years ago, Seth was back home on leave from the army,” I say. “We went out drinking, he and I and a friend of his. They were getting hammered and they made damn sure I was too. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I didn’t realize what a lightweight I was, but they were slamming them back, and like an idiot, I was trying to keep up. We went from bar to bar over in Keyapaha, staying until closing time at this little pub on Main Street. Anyway, the next thing I know, we’re piling into Seth’s truck to come home, and the last thing I remember, I’m sitting behind the driver’s seat, buckled in, and the truck is stuck in a ditch. Seth and his friend are yelling at me, saying I crashed the truck. There was blood on my forehead and my hands and blood on the steering wheel. We were all covered in blood … mostly broken noses and busted lips from the airbags and shattered glass.”