An address that was not his grandparents’ house.
Then I saw Jenna’s name.
“Can’t stay long,” he had written. “Got to get back before she suspects.”
“Drive safe,” she replied. “Love you.”
My stomach lurched.
“No,” I whispered.
“He wasn’t driving to his grandparents that night,” my mother said sharply. “He was driving home from his mistress.”
I looked at him.
“Tell me she’s lying.”
He didn’t.
Instead, he cried.
“Before the accident,” he said, voice breaking, “it was… it was stupid. I was stupid. Jenna and I… it was a few months, that’s all.”
“A few months,” I repeated.
“I thought I loved you both,” he said miserably. “I know how that sounds. I was young and selfish.”
“So the night of the accident, you were driving home from her.”
He nodded. “I was leaving her place when I hit the ice. Spun out. Woke up in the hospital.”
“And the grandparents’ story?”
“I panicked. I knew you. I knew if you thought I’d done nothing wrong, you’d stay. You’d fight for me. And if you knew the truth…”
“I might have left,” I finished.
He nodded again.
