Now you can focus on yourself.
Now you can alleviate the burden you’ve lived with. The one the boys don’t know. The one Rachel doesn’t know. The one even Hannah doesn’t know.
Fuck.
At least I could face that head on now, not be as concerned with getting distracted, but boy, was it going to suck fucking balls. I couldn’t…
I couldn’t do it alone.
And I couldn’t start with my sister. I needed practice to make sure that I said this right.
I needed to see Rachel.
It was probably a God-forsaken hour at night, but I had a feeling Rachel wasn’t sleeping anyway. I stomped out the cigarette, flicked it to the side, revved the engine to life, and moved at a fast but controlled pace down to her place. A part of me hadn’t quite let go of the need to be aware of my surroundings all the time, so I still caught myself glancing around, but such acts were met with reassurance, not paranoia.
When I got to her place, I dismounted the bike and prepared to knock on her door gently at first, but before I’d even done that, she opened the door a crack and peered out. She was wearing a white tank top, and I could see she was still wearing a bra—perhaps she hadn’t even tried going to bed. She also wore what looked like sweatpants.
“Mason?” she said.
“Rachel, are you OK?”
She nodded.
“I’ve dealt with worse,” she said with a small smile.
Boy, that was fucked up, but coming from her, I supposed it was as good a sign as any for her mental state.
“That doesn’t mean what you dealt with wasn’t terrible.”
“No, but it does mean I’m better than you might think.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Can I come in?”
Rachel opened the door wider and let me in. It was probably pretty telling that she didn’t even hesitate. I caught a glimpse of the microwave clock and saw it was well after one in the morning. Not as late as I’d thought, but certainly far later in the night than most people would be over for anything other than a booty call.
And though I sure as fuck was still attracted to this woman, that wasn’t why I was here.Not yet, anyway.
“Rachel, I’ve had something on my chest for some time now, and I hid it for over…for longer than what happened to you over a decade ago,” I said. “And I’m telling this to you because I don’t know who the hell else to turn to.”
“It’s OK.”
God, this woman. That she was willing to hear me out despite carrying her own cross just spoke to how great she was.
And then she took my hand in hers and squeezed it. I about damn near jumped her there. But no, I had to stay focused. And I knew what I was about to say was going to be an utter buzzkill, but I needed for my own sanity to talk to someone about it.
“You know my parents died a while ago,” I said. “But I didn’t tell you that I was responsible for them.”
I waited for Rachel to pull away. I waited for her to gasp in terror and crawl away off the couch. But nope—if anything, the grip she had on my hand tightened.
“I didn’t murder them, not like that, but I was the one responsible. I…”
I shook my head. Even starting to say it hadn’t created a snowball effect. It was still hard.
“I got stupid-ass drunk when I was probably thirteen, fourteen years old. Stole one of their cars. They came after me. I got in a wreck in front of them; they couldn’t turn away in time, and…”
I sighed.
“Fucking blame myself every day for that shit,” I said. “And worst of all, I haven’t even ever told my sister this. She thinks they died in an accident when someone else stole our car. She doesn’t know that that ‘someone else’ was me.”
