“I told you not to bring her up,” he growled, eyes suddenly hot. “I warned you after Mimi died. I said if you wanted me in your life, you don’t ever say her name again.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because I need you to forgive me.”
He laughed bitterly. “It’s not about me forgiving you.”
“Then what is it about?”
“She tried to kill herself, Daisy.”
The words slipped out like they’d been waiting years.
Daisy stopped breathing. “What?”
Dylan’s jaw locked. “Shit.”
“No. No, what did you just say?” She stepped toward him, voice trembling. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Dylan.” Her eyes went wide.
He turned his back, hands on his hips, heart hammering.
“You knew she was in the hospital,” he said tightly.
“No…” she whispered.
“It wasn’t the flu. Or exhaustion. Or an eating disorder like you all gossiped about. It was a fucking bottle of anxiety pills.”
Her knees buckled and she gripped the edge of the loveseat.
“I didn’t know,” she said, choking on the words. “I swear, Dylan. I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do.”
He didn’t look at her.
Didn’t want to see her face.
Didn’t want to see the mirror of his own guilt reflecting back at him.
“I— I thought she just… went home,” Daisy whispered, her voice cracking. “She never told me. You never told me.”
“She almost died, Daisy.”
“I didn’t mean for—”
“She almost died,” he said again, louder this time. “And I was there. Holding her hand. Not even knowing if she wanted me there. You weren’t. No one was. Just me.”
Silence settled heavy and thick.
Daisy didn’t cry this time. She didn’t speak.
She just sank into the loveseat, eyes vacant.
