Page 45 of A Game of Deception

“Because I was worried about you,” he said simply. “Because I needed to understand what was happening between you two.”

“That’s not your call to make,” I snapped. “My relationship with Tara is none of your fucking business.”

“It is when it’s hurting you,” Leo fired back. “When it’s part of this self-destructive bullshit you’ve been pulling for years.”

I wanted to argue but couldn’t. His words hit too close to home. I just glared, waiting.

“I didn’t go there to interfere,” Leo softened his tone. “I went because I couldn’t watch her hurt you over a misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding?”

Leo leaned in, dead serious. “She thinks you were driving the car that night, Xander. She thinks you killed her brother driving totally shit-faced.”

The words knocked the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe for a second.

“That’s... that’s not what happened,” I finally croaked, slumping back. If Tara believed I’d killed her brother...

“Oh God,” I whispered, my stomach turning. “All this time, she thought...”

Leo nodded grimly. “That’s why I had to talk to her. To tell her the truth. She’d spent years thinking you were directly responsible for Jimmy’s death.”

My brain scrambled to process this bombshell. Every interaction with Tara since I’d hit Miami took on a new, fucked-up meaning. Her coldness. Her anger. Her control issues.

“Did she believe you?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Leo paused. “I don’t know. She was... rocked. But it’s a lot to take in. To have your understanding of such a monumental event challenged after so many years.”

I nodded, food totally forgotten.

Tara believed I’d been drunk driving, crashed the car, and walked away while Jimmy died. No wonder she hated me. No wonder she’d tracked me, planning her revenge.

And last night... was that part of her plan too? To seduce me, make me vulnerable, all as some twisted payback?

The thought made me want to puke.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said, watching me. “I know this is heavy. But you needed to know.”

I nodded, speechless. My phone buzzed—a momentary escape from my mental shitstorm. I pulled it out.

A text from Tara.

Just a reminder about the art opening tomorrow evening. Here’s the address…

I stared at the message. Hours ago, this would’ve felt promising, her making sure I’d show up. A sign that last night meant something. Now it felt like a bad omen.

The art opening. A public event where I’d have to face her, knowing what I now knew. Knowing all this time she’d been viewing me as her brother’s killer.

“Xander?” Leo broke through my thoughts. “What is it?”

I handed him my phone without a word. He read it, his face grim.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, passing it back. “I can make an excuse. Say you’re sick.”

I shook my head. “No. I have to go.” I needed to talk to her and find out if what Leo told her had changed anything.

“Are you sure that’s smart?” Leo asked, concerned.

“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I ran from her once. I can’t leave things like this.”