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“It’s only eight thirty.” Her voice is calm, and for the first time, I detect an edge in her tone toward her father.

He must notice it as well, because his eyes move from me to her before dropping to his glass. With a resigned sigh, he straightens and walks out of the kitchen. I feel like I can breathe easily for the first time since I entered this room.

Drew crosses to me and puts her hand in my arm. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said Wednesday. We have counselors at the clinic who I know would be happy to talk to you if you’re interested.”

I let her lead me out the side door to the brick-lined patio. A fire pit is situated i

n the center of the open space, and wrought-iron loungers are arranged around it with thick canvass cushions.

“I’ll think about it.” I nod, watching the flames licking the coals. “Is it anybody I know?”

“Do you have a preference? I can find someone you don’t know if it makes you more comfortable.”

My hands are in my back pockets, and I shrug. “This whole situation is pretty uncomfortable.” I try giving her a smile, but her expression breaks.

She rushes to me, putting her arms around my waist again. “I’ll do anything to help you, Gray. Just tell me what I can do.”

For a moment, I forget where we are. I put my arms around her and hold her close to me. My chest is tight, and I feel my heart struggling to beat. I kiss her sweet head, wishing with all my might I could change things.

“It might be easier if I went away again. Just for a little while.”

She whimpers against my chest. “Why would that be easier than being here with me?”

Stepping back, I lift her chin, moving her hair off her cheeks. “Because of Danny.” Fuck, it’s like a knife saying his name.

She blinks quickly. “Dotty said you two had a fight…”

I don’t bother asking how she knows. I knew when I said it Dag would repeat every word.

So I just tell her.

“Sometimes when I touch you…” I swallow the ache in my throat. “When I hold you, I remember his words, my anger.”

“You never got closure.” Her voice is pleading. “It’s understandable.”

The last thing, the last nail in my coffin—it’s time to say it.

“I was driving the truck, Drew.” My voice is so quiet, her head tilts to the side. It makes me think of a little bird, easily broken.

“What?”

Clearing my throat, I say it louder. “I was driving the truck. I was behind the wheel when it exploded.”

Her head begins to shake. “I don’t understand…”

“I was responsible.” Reaching up, I slide my fingers roughly over my eyes. “Now when I remember what we said… I can’t help wondering if I wanted him dead.”

Silence surrounds us. It’s so loud I can feel it on my skin. It’s like the hissing in my ears after my concussion. It only lasts a moment.

“What did you say?” Carl’s voice is a machete cutting the night air.

When I turn to face him, his eyes blaze hotter than the fire. “Mr. Harris.”

He throws the tumbler against the brick wall, and Drew lets out a little yelp. “Tell me what you just said about my son.”

“I said… I was—”

“No.” Drew steps forward again, closer to me. “You loved Danny just as much as we all did. The men from Washington said it was an accident. You’re not responsible.”