A sliver of me wants to refute him, but a larger part longs to believe him. If it were true, then it could be as if she never fully left me. I’d have a part of her with me always.
“Do you have a picture of her?” he asks.
“No. They took every piece of her away from me. All I had was the heart on the mirror. Eventually, that was gone too.”
“Really? Why would they do that?”
“Zara’s death changed my parents. Not only with me. They cut off all contact with Aunt Moira since she was watching us when it happened. I never saw her again. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. To be honest, I wish they’d sent me to live with her. Then they wouldn’t have to see my face and be reminded of what I did.”
“You didn’t do it, Lila. I read the report, and it wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry your parents made you feel like it was.”
“They were in so much pain.” I blink, shocked at the lack of moisture in my eyes. “I don’t blame them for breaking. We all broke.”
“No excuses. You were a child. They should have been there for you.”
Instead of defending my parents, I let his words percolate. Maybe he’s right.
Why was a seven-year-old left to navigate the death of her twin without the love and support of her mother and father? Even if it was my fault, it wasn’t intentional. And I needed help.
I needed my parents.
“For a long time, I didn’t have the words to articulate my feelings or explain what happened up there. In a way, Zara took my ability to speak with her. Immediately after, all I could do was apologize. Through my tears, I begged for forgiveness. Over and over. People swarmed. The cops came. Paramedics. My parents arrived. And I told themallhow sorry I was. It was the only thing I could say.”
Right when I think I’m about to break, Reed’s hold on me intensifies. Warmth floods me, a soothing balm to my spirit.
I pause for a shaky breath, then continue with renewed calmness. “I was taught to take accountability for my mistakes, which is what I was desperately trying to do. I believed if they knew how much I regretted it, they’d bring her back to me. As an adult, I hear how dumb that sounds. But as a child, I thought it would save her. I apologized nonstop until we drove away that day.Without her. That’s when I knew that no words could save her. So I didn’t speak. For weeks. I was totally mute from the trauma.”
Being able to share this with Reed is surreal. I’ve never spoken so openly about this. Kenzie knows bits and pieces of the story, but I always ended up sobbing uncontrollably and unable to finish.
Not tonight, though.
It’s painful, but telling him isn’t shattering me. It’s stitching me together.
In the solace and warmth of Reed’s embrace, I can purge this from my soul.
He lifts his head, placing a tender kiss on my cheek. “In the file, it says they sent you to a psychologist. Do you remember that?”
“Vaguely. I’m fairly certain it was only a few times. I have a distinct recollection of the first visit, though. Before I met thedoctor, my parents had me wait in the hall. I overheard them order him to do whatever was necessary to get me talking again. And not to fix or help me.Oh no.I was the only one who could tell them who killed their child up on that cliff.”
I wobble my head faintly, wishing I could dismiss these facts as fiction. “Up ‘til then, my aunt was the only person they could truly blame. After all, the entire trip came about so she could see her Holy Grail bird. She convinced my parents to join since they’d always talked about vacationing in the UK. We flew to England as one big happy family. We came back broken. Tragically, Zara never came back.”
Reed’s next words come out shakier, tone abrasive, as if he’s the one in pain. “I’m so sorry. Sodamnsorry, cookie.”
We linger in this moment for a while. I skim his arms in loving strokes, returning some of his affection in hopes it drives away that quiver in his voice.
“Something just dawned on me. Although my parents blamed Aunt Mo for Zara’s death, I never did. And I never will. Isn’t that odd?”
“Not at all. It wasn’t her fault. Same as it wasn’t yours.”
I wish that were true.
“I don’t know what the police file says, but I assure you it was my fault.” Before he can object, I launch into my explanation. “It was my idea to take the picture of the bird. But I wasn’t brave enough to do it myself because it was so close to the edge. Zara wasn’t scared of anything. She slipped, and I tried to hold on with all my might. Then she was falling. It all happened so fast. One second, she was there. The next. Gone.”
“Damn, Lila. It must have been devastating. My heart breaks for you.”
For the first time in this conversation, tears threaten to come.
Reed smooths his palm over my arm gingerly. Although unable to see my face, he intrinsically senses I need him to get me through this. And it’s working.
