I hold up the album with shaking hands. "I found this."
His entire body goes still. For a moment, the controlled mask slips, and I see something raw and vulnerable flash across his face. Fear. Pain. Grief.
"Where did you—"
"My loft. In a box of Alex's things." I move closer, my heart pounding, tears threatening to spill again. I open the album to the homecoming photo.
He stares at the photo, and I watch his throat work as he swallows hard. His hands are trembling. "It was a long time ago."
I sit beside him, turning pages with tears streaming down my face. "You were together constantly. You were brothers in everything but blood."
Silence fills the library. Nathan's hands are shaking—actually shaking—as he takes the album from me.
He clears his throat. "Eve—I need to tell you something."
He stares at a photo of him and Alex, both grinning at the camera, and his voice cracks when he speaks.
"We were celebrating. High school graduation. We were drunk—too drunk to drive, but too stupid to care." His voice drops to barely a whisper, thick with grief. "I should havecalled a cab. Should have stayed at the party. Should have done anything except get behind that wheel."
"Nathan—"
"He tried to stop me." A tear slides down his cheek. "Alex tried to take the keys, but I was being an arrogant ass. Told him I was fine. That I'd driven drunk before and nothing happened."
His hands grip the album so tightly that the leather creases. His whole body is shaking now. "I lost control on a curve. Hit a tree. Alex..." His voice breaks completely, a sob tearing from his throat. "He died on impact. I pulled him out of the driver's seat, put myself there instead. Made it look like he was driving. No one ever knew. No one."
Wait.
Wait.
The words penetrate slowly, like ice water seeping through my veins.
"You were driving?" My voice comes out strangled, barely audible.
He looks up at me, tears streaming down his face. "Eve—"
"You were driving." I stand abruptly, the album falling from my lap to the floor. "You—not Alex. You were the one behind the wheel."
"Yes," he whispers.
"No." I'm backing away from him, my hands shaking violently. "No. The police said—the report said Alex was driving drunk. That he—that he—"
The room tilts sickeningly. All these years. All these years, I thought it was Alex's fault. That my brother's recklessnesskilled him. That he made the choice to drive drunk and paid the ultimate price.
But it wasn't him. It was Nathan.
Nathan killed my brother. And then he lied about it.
"You lied to me," I whisper, then louder, "You lied to everyone!"
"I was terrified—" He stands, reaching for me.
"Don't touch me!" I slap his hands away, rage flooding through me so intensely I can barely breathe. "Don't you dare touch me! You let me think—for sixteen years, I thought it was Alex's fault. I thought he was reckless and stupid and—"
A sob tears from my throat. "And he wasn't. He tried to stop you. He tried to save both of you, and you killed him, and then you made everyone think it was his fault!"
"I know," Nathan says, his voice breaking. "I know, Eve, I'm so sorry—"
"Sorry?" I laugh, the sound hysterical. "You're sorry? You killed my brother, framed him for his own death, and then you stalked me for years, destroyed my life, manipulated everything, and you think sorry covers it?"
