Page 172 of Twisted Collide

Josephine sits forward on the couch but doesn’t release me. “What are you scared of?”

“I am scared that once I tell you, you will never look at me the same again.”

She gives my hand another squeeze. “Never going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then try me.” She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “But I promise nothing you ever say will change how I feel about you.”

I shrug. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She pats the couch beside her. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

With a shake of my head, I take a step back. “Let me get this out first.” I close my eyes for a brief second, trying to find the strength inside me to tell her. “I guess I should start at the beginning.”

“Seems as good a place as ever,” she responds.

“When I was a kid, my father was really hard on me. He wanted me to be a hockey star. See, the thing was, he had tried, but aninjury had crushed his dreams of playing professionally. Then he started to drink a lot.” I draw in a breath. “Drinking ran in his family.” I meet her gaze. “Being an asshole too.” I gesture to myself.

“Stop,” she says.

“I’m not just saying that to be funny. It’s the truth. My father’s brother was a complete degenerate, and while my father looked better on the outside, he wasn’t. He just hid it well. He had a good job. Money. But it was never enough because what he wanted was the Cup. So he set out for me to live his dreams,” I tell her. “Do you know the problem with living someone else’s dreams?”

“No.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets. “They’re never your own.”

“What happened?” She stares at me intently, but I can see the concern in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I find the words I’ve held on to for so long, and then on an exhale, I begin to purge myself of my secrets. “It was my senior year, and I was eighteen. I had gone to a party, and at that party, I got into a fight, but because it was Redville and I knew everyone in the town, the cops didn’t arrest me. Instead, they called my father.”

Josephine opens her mouth to speak, but then she shuts it, and I continue. “The problem was my parents had gone out that night. When they got the call, they were only a block from our house. I guess the sitter had to go home, so they got my sister and came to pick me up.”

“What happened?” Her voice is low, almost scared to hear what transpired that night. I’m sure she knows; the bits and pieces I’ve told her probably make what happened that night obvious, but assuming and knowing are two different things.

“On the way to pick me up, they got into an accident, and well, my parents died.”

Josephine lets out a tiny gasp, but I keep going.

“Molly was the only survivor. She had seen them take theirlast breaths, and it was all my fault. I’m the reason my sister had to see that. I’m the reason she would grow up without a mother.”

From where I’m standing, I can see the tears roll down her cheeks.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dane.”

I shake my head. “It was.”

“I hate that you feel that way, and I’m sure Molly would too if she knew. You were a kid.”

“I might have been a kid, but since I was eighteen, I needed to take care of my sister. I wanted to become Molly’s guardian, but it wasn’t easy, and my uncle stepped up. Things got dicey. The money our parents left us got tied up, and I couldn’t access it right away. For a second, I thought my uncle would get her. I knew he didn’t want her. He only wanted the money she would bring. I fought tooth and nail to keep her in the only home she knew. But the little money I did have access to ran out fast without a new income, and hiring a lawyer to get custody of Molly was an expense I couldn’t afford,” I say. “But I needed to find it, so I did.”

“What did you do?” she asks.

“I point shaved a hockey game I was playing in. Then, through a shady friend, I bet on it.”

She bites her lip, and I hear a pained noise from her mouth. “You did what you needed to do,” she tells me.

Her words do little to comfort me. What I did was inexcusable and highly illegal. If the truth came out, my career would be over. I might not go to jail, as I’m not sure of the statute of limitations, but no one would work with me again. Still, for Molly, I wouldn’t change one thing. I’d happily go to jail to make sure she was safe.

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