Page 95 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“It needs to be said,” I interject. “Putting stuff off hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Echo, what I meant is that I was with Dad when he had the heart attack that killed him. He was yelling at me about one of my grades when he suddenly sat down and clutched his chest. I…”

I sneak a look at her to see if she’s figured out where my story is going, but she’s just watching me levelly, waiting for me to say my piece. There’s no judgment in her expression. How long will that last?

“I hesitated before I called the ambulance.” The confession pours from me on an exhale. “I don’t know how long. Maybe thirty seconds. Maybe a couple of minutes. It felt like fucking forever. I couldn’t help thinking that it seemed like the universe was handing me a solution to all my problems. If he was gone, everything would be better.”

“But you did call for help,” she says softly, with every confidence in my ability to be a good person. Misguided, but sweet.

“Yeah, but they couldn’t save him. If I’d been faster, he might still be alive.”

Soraya huffs. “It’s only a ‘might’. No one has ever actually said he’d definitely have survived if help arrived sooner. With a massive heart attack, it’s pretty much impossible to know for sure.”

“But he would have had more of a chance,” I say stubbornly.

“Or maybe if the ambulance driver had gone faster, or if the paramedics weren’t near the end of a long shift, he’d have survived, too. We can’t know.”

I pretend not to hear her. We’ve had this argument before, and no doubt we’ll have it again.

“You feel guilty anyway,” Echo says, and it’s only then that I realize she’s looking at me. Those hazel eyes can read me like a book.

I swallow past the lump lodged in my throat. “I was relieved when I heard he was dead. What kind of person does that make me?”

I wait for her to tell me to get lost, but the words don’t come.

“Human.” To my surprise, she takes my hand. “You had a very complicated relationship with him. I have no idea what that was like because I didn’t live it, but he hurt you and manipulated you, and it’s only human for you to think about how much easier your life might be without him.”

“She’s right,” Soraya says firmly.

Echo flashes her a look of gratitude. “Soraya, do you mind if Tyler and I go somewhere more private so we can give this conversation the attention it deserves?”

“Sure. No worries.” She fidgets with the hem of her top. “See you next time.”

“Bye.” Echo smiles at her and keeps her fingers intertwined with mine as Soraya strides away. “The gardens?”

“Sounds good.”

The botanical gardens are near campus, but with the trees and thick rosebushes, they’re surprisingly private. We walk together, but with each step, the relief in my gut eases and the dread increases.

Echo is still standing beside me, even after finding out that I could have played a part in my father’s death. Because of that, I owe her one last truth. It might break us. The guilt over my last secret has festered like a contaminated wound in the back of my mind for years.

Only a handful of people know. One is my therapist. One is dead. One is in prison, and I doubt the others would talk, but I can’t hold this in for any longer. If she decides she doesn’t want to see me again, I’ll accept that. I’ll leave her alone, no matter how difficult it may be.

I’m an asshole, not a monster.

As we stroll between the opening in the hedge and into the gardens, my pulse picks up and sweat slides down the back of my neck. I lead Echo to a garden bench that’s tucked away beneath a pergola that’s buried beneath an overgrown white rosebush, and we sit.

I release her hand. She might not want me touching her in another few seconds.

“So, about your dad…” She trails off, frowning. “Are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” I look down at my hands. Big, calloused palms. Great for hockey. Bad for handling someone as delicate as Echo. “After this, I can’t think of any other secrets I’m keeping. I’m an open book. You can ask me anything.”

“What is it?” she whispers, nerves threading through her voice.

My jaw clenches involuntarily. “First, I just want to say I’m damn sorry for hiding this from you for so long. You should have known from the beginning.”

“Hiding what?”

Finally, I dare to look at her. She’s watching me steadily. I can’t bear to imagine how she’ll look at me once she’s heard my confession.

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