Page 95 of Our Secrets and Scars

“No.”

But it’s a lie.

Truth is, Holden was probably right. It wouldn’t have mattered that he hadn’t killed Bexley himself, it would have been enough that he was even in the car at all. If he’d written back to my first letter admitting his identity, he never would have heard from me again. And I’d have spent the last several years without someone to spill my soul to or admit my unthinkable thoughts. I’d never have known what his heartbeat sounds like as I lay on his chest or experienced the dizzying insanity of falling in love with him.

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or the opposite.

“Don’t you be lying to me now, peach. Got my hands full with my boy as it is.”

I smile softly in apology, embarrassed that he can see straight through me. “Still doesn’t make it right though.”

“Never said it did. But you can at least understand why he did it.”

I shrug because I have no answer to that.

“Kid’s been in a bad way since it all went down, y’know? Had to send him home from work the day before Christmas ’cause he told a flirty client she ain’t shit compared to you.”

I hate myself for how my heart warms at his words and how my skin begins to tingle with a kind of glowing pride. Because I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t need to suppress a smile at Mack’s words or feel incredible relief that Holden turned down another woman.

I shouldn’t be feeling any of those things.

So I force myself to pretend that I don’t.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Mack. I don’t like that he’s hurting, but it doesn’t change what he did.”

“Yeah,” he says in resignment. “Yeah, I know.”

“What were you hoping for when you came here today? For me to forget that he lied to me for four years? To take him back as if it never happened at all?”

“I dunno, peach.” His shoulders hunch as he looks at me, his hands wiping up and down his jean-clad thighs. “Guess I was hoping you wouldn’t waste a good heart like my boy’s on something as futile as blame.”

My heart pangs so much it hurts. I feel the burn of tears in my eyes, but I blink them back, determined not to crack, no matter how compelling Mack is.

“It’s not just the lying though,” I tell him. “The night of the party, when it all went down, I’d never seen violence like that before. And never did I think I’d see it from Holden. He’s always been so gentle, so sweet with me. But damn, Mack, I saw him. The look on his face, the power he put into his fists, and if I’m being truly honest, it scared me. He’d have killed Owen if I hadn’t stopped him, I know it. That’s not the man I thought I knew and it’s not the kind of man I want.”

“That sonofabitch had it coming to him, but that ain’t the point. You seem to be forgetting that Holden grew up with him, saw a lot of shit that he couldn’t do nothing about. Owen ain’t a good man, you know that by now. But, peach, he’s hurt a lot of people. Girls, sweet ones, just like you. He drugged your drink not so long ago, remember? And Holden kept his head then. I think he can be forgiven for losing his shit when he saw that asshole with his hands all over his girl, who was looking scared out of her damn mind. Any man worth his salt would’ve reacted in the same way.”

I fall quiet, my eyes turning down to the wildflower embroidery on my bedcovers. I run my finger over the pattern in an attempt to distract myself from the conversation. But it doesn’t work.

Mack’s words are getting to me. They’re seeping into my soul, acting as an antidote to the poison of the heartbreak I’ve been feeling in the days since learning the truth. And though I’m trying desperately to stand my ground and fight it, my resolve is weakening.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper as I let a single teardrop fall. “What do I do?”

My head and my heart are at war with one another, the bitterness of anger battling against the inescapable beating of Holden’s name. I hate him, and yet, at the very same time, I’ve never loved a person more than I do him.

“Sweetheart, I can’t tell you what to do.” Mack takes my hand in his large ones, steady and comforting like a father. “But let me ask you this. If you decide to give up on what you have with my boy, in five years from now, do you think you’ll still be angry that he kept his secret, or will you forever wonder what might have been if you’d chosen forgiveness instead?”

“I don’t know,” I whimper. I can’t help it.

Emotion floods me like a tsunami of shit I don’t want to deal with right now. But one glance at the clock tells me it’s six forty-five, fifteen minutes before Holden asked to meet me today in his letter, and time is running out. This is a decision I have to face right now, whether I like it or not.

“I hope you make the right choice, peach. A love like yours ain’t worth losing over something like this.” He stands, wiping his hands down his thighs and making for the door. But he stops short, turning to me. “Holden’s trying to fight for you, all you gotta do is let him.”

Twenty-Eight

Kinsley

Mysneakersslapagainstthe pavement as I race to campus. My skin is hot and sticky despite the winter chill, and every breath I take is like a tiny plume of smoke polluting the air.

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