Page 28 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)

Silas sits back down in his chair opening his mouth and closing it again, like a fish gasping for air as he absorbs my accusation. Fighting to find the right words.

I wait as my heart pounds out of my chest.

It sounds so loud in this deafeningly quiet room.

Finally, he speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice comes out controlled, like he’s measured each word before letting it out.

“By the time I had any energy to try and connect the dots, the building was gone. Right after he died, I listened to his parents. I wanted to forget about everything and never think about those last few months again. I figured why make things harder for everyone — me, his family, our friends — by proving my hunch was right? Would it change anything if we knew that it could have been prevented? No. And adding that extra layer of pain didn’t seem worth it. ”

“Until now?” he asks. “Why now?”

I shake my head and my voice bends as the truth finally comes out.

“Because I don’t know how to be here with you in all this —” I fling my arms out, waving at the room we’re sitting in — “without knowing for sure. How can I enjoy it — your fancy jet and your ridiculous hotel rooms — if the money that bought all this might have also killed him? I tried to follow his letters, to be a good sport. To come along and not destroy what he clearly wanted us to do. But now that I’m here, and I felt so happy today after that skydive, I’m wondering how I can be so awful to actually enjoy this? ”

“The money?” Silas asks, weakly.

“And the fact that you might have been the one to know about the building’s condition, but didn’t care to change it,” I nearly whisper.

“I don’t know how to be in the same space as you without knowing if it’s your fault or not.

I’ve tried. I swear to God, I’ve tried. But I don’t know how to be here with you and your money without an answer. ”

“You want to know whether or not you should blame me?” he asks.

I nod.

“For retribution?” he adds, calmly.

I don’t answer, but instead stare back, watching his face grow cold.

I don’t want to cry, but I don’t know how to get through this conversation without it. Silas has never looked at me like he is now. Like I’m the monster instead of him.

“Ah.” He sits back silently. A grave understanding washes over his body and he sniffs toward the floor. “So, you’re looking for a settlement? You want to prove I’m guilty?”

“Christ, not everything is about money, Silas,” I nearly scream. “Can’t you see that? Money has nothing to do with what I’m looking for right now.”

He either doesn’t react, or he’s too locked up in his own thoughts to hear what I’ve just said.

“Of course, you’re entitled to quite a bit if the report shows anything was connected.

I just find it odd that you’ve been harping on my lifestyle for years while secretly wanting to take me to court the first chance you get just to get a piece of it.

I totally understand why. Just say it out loud though.

You don’t have to act like you find me appalling then come out with something like this. Just say what you want and it’s yours.”

When his eyes find mine, he looks as if he’s seeing me clearly for the first time. But it’s all wrong. He’s wrong about all of it.

“No, lawsuits don’t do anything when it comes to things like death. There’s no changing what happened to Grant in a courtroom. Just a pile of money exchanging hands at the end of it. And I wouldn’t be able to spend a dime if I knew that’s where it came from.”

“So you’ve already thought about the pros and cons of suing me.”

“Of course I have but—”

“But, it’s not about the money, it’s about telling me that I may have been careless enough to cause my best friend to die. So I can live with that for the rest of my life? That’s the point of this conversation instead of just asking me to see the report?”

His green eyes morph to steel and I hate myself for bringing this up. Haven’t we both been through enough?

“It’s not about that either.” My eyes fill with tears. “I just don’t want to hold on to this question alone anymore.”

“Tell you what, we can just skip over all that. You can have whatever you want, Jules. Regardless of what the report says, fucking take it.” He extends his arms out to the sides as if offering himself up to me.

“Take everything. I already told you that you could have anything you wanted last year. All you had to do was ask instead of acting like I was a horrible friend for even offering.”

“If I was after your money, I would have come for you a long time ago. But there’s nothing you can give that’ll make up for what I lost,” I shoot back at him.

“For what we lost,” he corrects, quietly.

My tears finally spill over. Deep down, I know Silas would have never done anything to hurt Grant. If I’m right about this, and I hope I’m not, it would have been a horrible, unthinkable mistake . I just needed someone to blame, and now that I’m sitting here blaming him, it feels awful.

Tiny beads of sweat line Silas’ forehead. The last time I cried in front of him, he’d offered to order takeout and stay with me as long as I needed to calm down. This time, he just pulls his phone out and hits a few buttons on the screen.

“I’m calling Ryan,” he says.

He switches the phone over to speaker mode when it starts to ring, and we stare at each other, both scarcely breathing. I have no idea what time it is back home on the East Coast, but it feels like an eternity before something clicks over and Ryan’s voice comes through.

“Hello?”

“I need you to send me the environmental report from the Smithfield building,” Silas says, not bothering to greet him.

“The Smithfield building?” Ryan repeats, sounding confused. “The original report from . . . from over five years ago?”

A twang of anticipation lurches in my stomach.

I feel queasy. This is it. Silas wasn’t lying about doing a report.

I knew when I brought this up to him that he may want to do an inspection on whatever rubble might be left beneath the former building.

I’d expected that it might take weeks, possibly months, from the time I brought it up until I had a clear answer.

I always stopped short of pushing for clarity on this. Unsure whether blindly blaming Silas for his death was better than knowing the real truth behind his illness. But now, knowing that the answer has been sitting in someone’s computer all this time?

Fuck.

Nauseating guilt washes through me. I could have had closure. I should have asked about this a year ago. If for no other reason than to confirm my suspicions and put a stop to the endless agonizing and research over all the horrific what ifs that have plagued me for the last year.

“Send it over.” Silas’ voice is uncharacteristically sharp. “Now.”

“Of course. I just need to locate it,” Ryan answers quickly. “Give me five or ten minutes?”

“Thank you,” he answers, looking nervous but determined.

He hangs up.

I’m a bit taken aback that he’s so eager to confirm how guilty he might be but grateful that he’s willing to uncover the truth right in front of me.

I watch as he drops his face to his hands. A revelation like this could destroy him, I realize. Possibly for good this time.

It’s not what I want to happen, but the ball is already rolling.

Without a word, I stand and walk into my bedroom but leave the door open and begin packing the few things I got out of my suitcase since arriving. I want to be ready to fly out of here the second Silas is able to confirm what I think is in that report.