I helped Maggie die.Four little words that speared me so deep I knew in that split second I’d never forget thismoment.
I tasted the bile still burning my throat. In my head, I asked Pete to repeat himself, in case I’d heard him wrong. The demon in me goaded that perhaps I’d even imagined it—like I had so many other things when I felt as out of control as I did right now. But my heart kept me silent. Because I knew it was true. The series of events I’d never quite made sense of clicked into place, and the reality of what Pete had done made me want to throw up all overagain.
But I swallowed the retch. I had nothing left, and as I finally turned and looked at him, apparently, neitherdidhe.
The world grew darker as we stared at each other. His gaze was empty, his face devoid of any emotion, but I knew Pete, even if I’d never known this. He washurting.
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and then jumped out of the van, avoiding the mess I’d made, and rounded the hood for what seemed like the tenth time in as many minutes. I wrenched open the driver door and shoved Pete roughly enough to make him look at me. “Move over. I’mdriving.”
He scooted across without protest, and I climbed behind the wheel. An hour ago, my mind had been too fragmented to focus on the road, but Pete’s confession had brought the clarity that I’d been missing since Maggie died. Perhaps even before that, as I doubted Pete had assisted her on the spur of themoment.
We hit the road again. A million questions fought for dominance in my head, but I voiced none of them. Pete sank further and further into his seat, and I could almost see the life draining from him, like he’d given up on himself—onus—and was resigned to let what was left of the world swallow himwhole.
I couldn’t bear it. I reached out and put my hand over his, squeezed, and waited for the invisible cord to trace a path to my soul. My heart skipped a beat, like it always did when the current between us burned strong, and I squeezed his hand harder.I’mhere.
Whether he heard me or not, I couldn’t tell, so I did the only thing I could do and kept on driving. We were an hour from Medora when the question I cared least about bubbled out of me. “Is this why you won’tfuckme?”
Petestared.
I shook my head and dug my nails into my palms, clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. “Sorry. That’s not what I meanttosay.”
“You’re not wrong,though.”
“No?”
Pete uncurled his legs from his chest and stretched them out. “It wasn’t a conscious decision, Ash. But I couldn’t fuck you while I was hiding this from you. I felt—still feel—like a damn monster, and I can’t be that person and be with youlikethat.”
It wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things, but I couldn’t let it go. “But you let me fuck you? How doesthatwork?”
“I don’t know. It was like a switch flipped in my brain after—after Maggie died, and I couldn’t get past it. I’m sorry, Ash. I wish I could’ve stopped this screwing with yourheadtoo.”
I turned off the freeway and followed the signs to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Jed had pointed us in the direction of a campsite that he and Max visited on the rare occasions they traveled together. No tents, thank God. Just basic wooden cabins that looked out over the park. “Monsters crawl into children’s beds and take shit that’s not theirs. Whatever you’ve done, Pete, you’re not a fuckingpedophile.”
Pete flinched. “You’ve never said that wordbefore.”
“Maybe you’ve neverheardmesayit.”
“No. You’ve neversaidit.”
I hung a left and joined a rocky trail that was nothing like the boring freeways we’d driven on so far. “Well, I just did because even though I have no idea what’s going on, you’re not a goddamn monster. So don’t say thatagain,okay?”
Pete said nothing. We came to a fork in the road. I checked Jed’s directions and went right. Up ahead was a lookout spot. I was tempted to stop, but something told me that if we got out of the van now, we’d never get back in. “How did youdoit?”
“Dowhat?”
“Helpher.”
“I can’t tellyouthat.”
“Whynot?”
Pete ran a hand through his hair—it was longer these days than it had ever been, flopping into his face when he didn’t tie it back for work—and tugged on it hard enough to make me wince. “It’s not legal to help terminally ill people die. If the authorities found out, I’d be arrested and charged, and you might be too if you knewaboutit.”
“How would they find out if you’ve managed to hide it from me for this long? No one else knows,right?”
Again with the silence. I connected the dots and recalled the only person Pete had let near Maggie in her final weeks, someone I knew he’d protect. “Glenn helped you,didn’the?”
“Does itmatter?”
