Page 111 of Versions Of Us

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I cry. “You know I would have waited for you.” I’m aware I’m only exacerbating his already guilty conscience, but my frustration has gotten the better of me.

“I know you would have, Kris. Because you’re so good.” He does meet my gaze now and I can see his blue eyes are shimmering with moisture. “I knew that if I told you, you would have driven four hours without another thought. You would have dropped everything to be there for me whenever I called.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask, wondering why he’s making my loyalty to him sound like such a burden.

“They told me I could be in prison for up to fifteen years. Longer if the guy didn’t make it,” he admits. “Don’t you see? I’d never want that life for you. The best gift I could give you was the chance to move on without me.”

“Even if that meant me hating you,” I whisper.

Understanding washes over me. I realise now that Henley had chosen to selflessly put my needs ahead of his own. He’d made the ultimate sacrifice, and I’d blamed him when I should have been comforting him. Accused him instead of thanking him.

This man, this incredible man, had put himself on the line for me, for my family, and I’d let him sink to the depths of the deepest, darkest ocean. I should have paid more attention.

To the way his breath hitched at the sound of thunder, the way his gaze darted to the ground at the sudden burst of fireworks after the carnival last night.

I ignored the signs, allowing my hurt and anger over his betrayal to override what I knew deep down all along. That there was something bigger brewing below the surface.

All this time I’ve been trying to pry from him the truth about why he’d left, belittling him for not being honest. Now I realise.

He didn’t guard his story by choice.

He’s been physically incapable of speaking the words. To offer what I’d assumed could only be a simple explanation but was in fact a recount of the severe unspeakable trauma he’s experienced at the hands of fate.

My lungs collapse in on themselves, crippled by the heaviness of my own guilt and the magnitude of Henley’s pain. I try not to envision Henley being brutally attacked by four men, but the images find their way into my head anyway. I’m crushed, physically pained by the thought of him being forced to sit in a jail cell for months on end, never knowing if he’d ever be able to gain his life back.

All of this lost time, stolen from us in an instant.

“Who is Ethan Davis?” I dare to ask.

“Mackenzie’s ex.” Henley expels a heavy breath before he continues. “He’s a really bad guy, Kristen. He’s involved in a drug ring. His father is the chief of police in Coledale. From what I heard, he’s a dirty cop. I had no chance going up against him in court.”

I shake my head in confusion. “But you’re here. How did you get out?”

“My dad managed to get me one of the best lawyers in the country. He fought for an appeal. When a witness finally came forward and told the court that it was an accident, they had no choice but to drop all charges,” he tells me. “Apparently there were a few customers inside the diner that had watched the scene play out, but nobody wanted to go up against Ethan Davis and his father. Thank God someone finally did.”

“Mackenzie was with this guy?”

“Yeah. I don’t know much about their relationship, but he seemed to be holding something over her. She contacted me a few times in prison.” He pauses, his eyes darkening as he gazes back out to the river. “I told her to catch a bus to Cliff Haven. That she should go and find you. She wanted to, but Ethan’s father threatened her. He said that if she ever left town, he’d find her.”

“Poor Mackenzie,” I whisper.

I think back to my very first shift at the helpline. The same night as the accident.

And the night I’d first spoken to Em.

Jules had taken so many hang-ups that night. Most likely all from Mackenzie. The sister I never knew I had who had known I was working there. She had been waiting for me to answer.

“She was terrified to defy them,” Henley explains. “When I got out, I went back to her house. We left town in the middle of the night. We stayed in a few different places for a while, making sure they weren’t on our trail, but we knew we had to come back to Cliff Haven. We needed to come home.”

“Where is Ethan Davis now?” I ask.

“No idea,” he answers, his jaw clenching. “Last I’d heard he was in physical therapy learning how to walk again. The injuries he sustained that night were pretty horrific. I don’t remember the details, but he had a lot of broken bones, a severe head injury.” He pauses, choking on his next words. “He was in a coma. At first, they thought he’d be brain dead if he ever woke up. Luckily, he recovered.”

He looks out across the river again, his eyes narrow, his posture tense. I’m losing him to that dark place inside his head.

“I can’t believe it. Henley, you were in jail.” I feel the full scale of these words as they leave my mouth. “How did you survive it?”

Even as I ask the question, I know that although he’s here in front of me, he hasn’t come out unscathed.

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