The train stops at Atlantic Terminal in Brooklyn, and this time I get out alongside Chace. He reaches for my hand as we step off the platform, and although my mind protests that we should wait until we’ve talked to Lana, I lose my resolve at his touch. His fingers interlace with mine as if they’ve done so countless times before, and my breath catches in my throat. This can’t be anything illicit or wrong, not when it feels so natural—like everything is in the right place.
“I haven’t told anyone this before. Only my parents know,” Chace begins, lowering his voice as we cross the street. I can tell he’s nervous, and I give his hand a gentle squeeze.
“A year ago, I found out something about my dad. My parents had been fighting a lot, and when I asked questions, they always just blamed it on the stress of keeping his seat in Congress. I was pissed at him for creating such a crappy environment at home—like, was any job really worth it? And then one day I had an idea. Back in elementary school, he would pick me up and take me to Wiseguy Pizza once a week for father-son time. That was our thing, before he got elected.” Chace smiles sadly. “So I thought, hey, why not surprise him at the office with a pie from Wiseguy, remind him of old times, and maybe cheer him out of his funk?”
“That’s really sweet of you,” I tell him, though I have a feeling this story doesn’t end well.
“So I did.” Chace grits his teeth. “And when I walked in, I found him making out with one of his staffers, Lucy Jensen. The two of them were half dressed. Lucy, who had been over to our house with her husband and kids plenty of times, and who always pretended to be my mom’s friend. I lost it when I saw them together.”
I shudder.
“I can’t even imagine. That must have been horrible.”
We pass the massive Barclays Center arena and turn the corner to a residential street, lined with handsome brownstone homes.
“I wanted to get back at my dad, and while he and Lucy were sucking face, I grabbed his spare car keys off a shelf in his office, where I knew he kept them. When they finally noticed me in the room, they both freaked out, and I took off while they started throwing clothes back on. I went down to the office parking garage. This was sophomore year, so I didn’t even have a driver’s license yet, but I was so mad, I didn’t care. I took my dad’s Audi.” Chace stares down at the gray sidewalk. “I drove it to the Jensen house downtown. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe that I’d go tell Mr. Jensen what my dad and his wife were up to? Who knows—clearly I wasn’t thinking. I was in this blind rage, until I felt my car hit something.”
Chace stops in his tracks, and I follow his gaze. We’re staring up at a brownstone, identical to all the rest except in this one there’s a boy in the window, leaning on a cane as he hobbles toward the kitchen table.
“I should have called 911, but I called my dad first. And he told me to go.” Chace’s voice is barely above a whisper. “He said he would come take care of it, that everything would be okay as long as I drove straight home and never said a word about this to anyone.”
I shake my head, my stomach in knots.
“And that’s what you did?”
“Yes.” Chace’s voice breaks. “Dad sent his right-hand assistant to the scene, and that’s how we found out that the thing I hit was a person. Ten-year-old Brady Jensen, the same age as my little brother, Teddy.”
I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Is he…?”
“Alive? Yes, thank God.” Chace lets out a long exhale. “Dad paid for every surgery, but he also paid for something else. See, Lucy Jensen knew it was me. She saw me walk in on them, and she was with my dad right after, when they came looking for me and discovered the car was gone. And I was desperate to tell the truth—it was eating away at me, the need to say I was sorry. But my parents sat me down and said it wasn’t just me I’d be sacrificing if I told the truth. My dad’s bid for reelection would never survive his son confessing to a hit-and-run.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t know how much money he threw at them, but it must have been a lot. And I’m guessing the Jensens had no desire for the truth to get out, either, since that would expose Lucy’s dirty secret. So the next thing I knew, their older son, Brady’s brother, Justin, came forward and told the police it was him. He had a whole story prepared about how he’d been practicing for his license test, when he lost control of the car and panicked once he realized what he’d done.” Chace swallows hard. “I never saw Justin again.”