Page 114 of The Breaking Point

Grace’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh my God. Why would you let him drive?”

After the accident, I’d gone to Coach and confessed that I’d given Ben the keys. I’d seen him drinking, but I hadn’t thought it was a big deal. Coach looked grim and told me to keep that information to ourselves.

“It’ll just hurt the girls more,” he’d said. “Because they’ll never forgive you for it. And the last thing we need is to lose another son.”

So I’d kept that secret. I’d kept it and buried it like we’d buried Ben. When I’d held Grace at the funeral, I’d reminded myself that telling her that I’d been responsible for her brother’s death would only cause her pain.

And if it hurt me? So what? I deserved worse. I didn’t deserve absolution or forgiveness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Grace cried. She was sobbing now. “How could you not tell me? All these years, and you said nothing!”

I wanted to die. I wanted to pull her into my arms. But all I could do was watch as she cried.

“Who told you?” I asked.

“Does it matter? Because the person who should’ve told me wasyou.”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured. I closed my eyes. “Grace, you can’t know how sorry I am.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry? You’re sorry that Ben is dead and you’re not?”

The words were a punch to the gut, but I couldn’t deny them, either.

Grace wiped at her eyes. “You knew he was drunk? You knew, and you gave him the keys? Why?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. I wished I did.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“That’s not good enough. You should’ve called him a cab. You know about drinking and driving, so don’t tell me you don’t know what to do. I guess you thought it’d be okay if my brother hurt somebody or if he hurt himself? That’s fucked up, Brady.”

Grace rose and went to the front door, but I stopped her. “Wait, you can’t leave like this—”

“So, what? Are you going to hold me hostage?” Her eyes glittered with rage and hatred. “Maybe you should’ve been more concerned about stopping Ben instead of me.”

I held on to her for a moment longer, but then I let her go. I had no right to keep her here.

I had no right to her, period. I’d known that since Ben had died. Why had I been stupid enough to think I could change fate?

“Are you okay enough to drive? Should I get a taxi or Uber for you?” I couldn’t help but ask. I knew that driving while sobbing wasn’t a great idea, especially in LA traffic. And it was getting dark, too.

Grace laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Seriously? Now you care about getting an Uber for somebody? Fuck off, Brady. We’re done.”

Then she left, slamming the door behind her.

I stared at my front door for what felt like hours. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t believe that’d just happened.

Then the pain hit, and it was unbearable. I staggered up, grabbed my wallet and keys, and started walking.

I had to get out of that apartment. But as I walked, I could only see the anguish on Grace’s face. The way she wouldn’t even let me touch her, or console her, or explain myself.

What is there to explain? You killed her brother.

I grabbed a tree and forced myself to take a few deep breaths so I didn’t vomit all over the sidewalk.

I’d feared this day for so many years, and it was worse than I could’ve imagined. Had I really hoped that Grace would understand? That she’d tell me she didn’t hate me for what I’d done?

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