Page 105 of These White Lies

“You didn’t hurt her on purpose,” I say carefully. “And from what I saw at your parents’ house, Caroline doesn’t blame you.” Elizabeth shakes her head, denying my words. “Have you ever talked about it with her?”

“Of course not.” She looks horrified. “What could she say, other than ‘it’s not your fault.’ Caroline’s sweet. Too sweet. She’d lie, if necessary, just to protect my feelings.”

Thunder cracks overhead, shaking the car.

Elizabeth stares out the windshield, voice quieter now. “I made a mistake. She paid for it. So, I did everything I could to make up for it. Achieved success for both of us. I couldn’t waste my chance when I’d already wasted hers.”

Has she been punishing herself for this her whole life? Did she marry Keith because of it? Because he was the responsible, safe option? A man who checked the boxes of stability and security, the way she thought Caroline had been denied? Did she settle because she thought she wasn’t allowed to want more?

My chest aches at the thought. She deserves more.

I draw in a slow breath. “Your sister is happily married. Though how that’s possible with Todd, I don’t know.” I make a face. “She’s active with her kids. You heard her talking about theupcoming school year. That woman was made to be a teacher. You didn’t ruin her life. And I’d bet she’d be pretty offended if she knew you thought her life was less than in any category.”

Elizabeth flinches.

“And if she knew you’ve been driving yourself this hard all these years—punishing yourself because of something that happened when you were a kid—she would be devastated.”

Her lips part, but no sound comes out.

I can see her mind working, turning it over, maybe for the first time. She doesn’t like what she’s hearing, but she’s listening.

I keep going because she needs to hear it. “I understand the guilt of being the older sibling. I raised my sister while my mom worked. I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone smaller, someone who trusts you to keep the world from touching them. And I let her down, too.”

Elizabeth frowns. “But that wasn’t your fault.”

I lean closer, holding her gaze. “Neither was your sister not becoming a dancer. Things happen. Nothing in life is guaranteed.”

For a second, she just stares at me, caught between defiance and something else, her lip caught between her teeth.

I see her fighting it, the instinct to reject everything I’m saying because it doesn’t fit with the story she’s told herself since she was thirteen. The story where she’s the villain, where her punishment is to never let herself off the hook.

But I also see a crack in her armor. The tiniest shift.

The rain is slowing to a drizzle, but all I can focus on is her, and how badly I want to take that weight from her shoulders.

The sound of a text notification breaks through our intense stare down. The emotion clouding her eyes is almost painful, but she finally drags her eyes away and looks at her phone.

“It’s my mom,” she murmurs. “No one’s home. Feel free to look around. The owners don’t mind.”

Elizabeth snorts under her breath, tucking the phone away. “They fixed it up.” She stares at the house easily visible now that the rain has stopped. “Ready?”

Once we are out of the car, Elizabeth points across the wide, muddy field, blue eyes sparkling as the wind whips her hair.

“The tree’s about a quarter of a mile that way. Across the field and through a stand of trees, and then down the hill to the pond.”

I follow her finger. The ground is slick, sucking at my boots even here at the edge. “My boots will make it. Your canvas tennis shoes?” I let my gaze drop to her shoes, one brow arched. “Not a chance.”

She makes a face. “You’re right.”

“I volunteer as tribute.” I shrug.

“What?”

“You’re not making it that far in those shoes.”

Her eyes light with a challenge. She’s about to argue—I can see it building—so I cut her off. “Okay, let me rephrase. I’m not going toletyou walk that far in those shoes.”

Her mouth opens, outrage simmering. “‘You’re not going tolet me?’” Her tone is pure threat.