Page 79 of Little Did You Know

"I have blamed myself every day for what happened to you," The words scraped raw in my throat, barely a whisper. Years of guilt pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe. "And I'm sorry."

Olivia's eyes hardened. "Did you kill my parents?"

"What? No." I raked my fingers through my hair, shaking my head. "But Emmett and I were the reason you were home. If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have left and gone back home."

"I don't understand."

"The day we got back from our trip, we wanted to go hang out with our friends." I recalled the memory like it was yesterday. "We'd been with you all week and didn't want you to come with us. So, I said something mean, and you left crying." I swallowed hard. "If I hadn't done that, you wouldn't have been hurt."

"Nick." Olivia's shoulders slumped, tension draining from her frame. "You aren't the reason I was hurt, and I know I was kind of annoying."

"You're not angry?"

"You aren't responsible for me getting hurt no matter what you did that day unless—" Olivia's voice caught. She drew in a shaky breath. "Unless you were the one who drove the knife into my back."

"I would never—" The very thought made bile rise in my throat. All these years later, and I could still see the blood, still feel the helpless panic of finding her there. "I would never hurt you like that. The thought of anyone hurting you..." I couldn't finish, the words crumbling to dust in my mouth.

"I know, but I need to ask you something." I nodded. "Did Emmett have the opportunity to do it?"

I narrowed my eyes, confusion twisting my features.

"Was there ever a moment after I left that Emmett wasn't with you guys?"

My brow furrowed, mouth twisting into a scowl. "You think Emmett did it?" I paced to the window, hands clenched at my sides. "No, Emmett's done some fucked up shit lately but hurt you and kill your parents? No."

Olivia sank onto the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the comforter. "I don't want to believe it either, but I need to know there was no opportunity for it to be him."

The memories of how it all went down that day flashed forward.

Olivia leaned forward, moonlight catching the tears gathering in her eyes. "Is there anything you could have blocked out?"

My gaze shifted to the floor, memories of that day flashing through my mind like a broken film reel. "I think there's a lot I blocked out, but the memories of everything before I found you and your parents have always been clear. It wasn't Emmett." She blew out a heavy sigh as her body relaxed. "I'm beyond angry with Emmett right now..."

Olivia pushed off the bed. "I want to know everything." Olivia's hand shot up, cutting through the air between us. "From the beginning." My throat tightened. I nodded, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on my chest.

I was ready to do what I should have done in the beginning: tell her the truth about everything and hope that it wasn't too late and that she'd be able to forgive me.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Sitting on a bench, I watched as the sun slowly sank into the horizon, thinking about the past and questioning my future.

The funeral was over, and now I had to decide a path for my future. I had nothing left here in New York except Anthony, and I'd built the start to a great life in Florida, so it was obvious where I'd live, but Nick and I's future was still a little foggy.

I understood why he did what he did, and I knew that Emmett's death wasn't on Nick's hands, but it didn't change the damage the secrets and lies caused. Part of me thought it was best if Nick and I were friends, but the other part was still madly in love with him. I wasn't sure I could get past all the hurt.

"Olivia."

My gaze snapped up, and I smiled. "Anthony."

Anthony lowered himself onto the bench, the familiar creak of wood echoing two decades of conversations. "Are you okay?"

My fingernail traced endless figure-eights in the weathered grain. "Yeah. I'm just sitting here trying to figure out my future." The words caught in my throat. "There's nothing left for me here."

"Olivia." His calloused fingers stilled my restless hand, bearing the same gentleness he'd shown when bandaging my scraped knees as a child. "I will always be here if you need me."

I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of his aftershave—the same brand he'd worn since I was little. "I know." A wistful smile tugged at my lips. "But I don't want you to worry about me anymore. I want you to send me postcards from whatever exotic island you and your wife land on." My voice softened. "I want you to enjoy your retirement."

He leaned his cheek against the top of my head. "I'm going to be okay."

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