Page 94 of The Truths We Find

I shake my head. “No lawyer. Not for me anyway.”

His forehead creases.

I take a long swig of my beer, letting the bitterness ground me. “Sam.”

Gavin’s expression hardens slightly. “He’s been gone for months. What kind of trouble is he in with SDPD?”

“Oh, that’s the kicker.” I peel at the label on the bottle, needing something to do with my hands. “That wasn’t a detective.”

He stills.

“He’s FBI,” I continue.

Gavin’s beer freezes halfway to his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Apparently, Sam’s been working for Tate.” The words taste toxic. “When Tate couldn’t buy votes the old-fashioned way—you know with a threatening email or some backroom deal—he brought Sam in to… persuade people.”

I swallow. My chest tightens as the reality settles deeper.

Gavin just stares at me for several long seconds. Then he slowly shakes his head.

“You need to start from the beginning,” he says firmly. “Right now.”

I tell him everything.

How Tate manipulated Sam’s military post to keep him in San Diego. How the FBI thought I was involved. The deal I made to help them build their case. All of it.

By the time I’m done, my throat feels raw.

“I don’t get it,” I whisper. “Sam was my best friend. He was a good person. What happened?”

The words feel naïve even as I say them.

Gavin’s expression darkens into something I’ve never seen before. He slams his beer bottle onto the coffee table, the sharp crack making me flinch. Then he’s on his feet, pacing. His hands drag through his hair, gripping at the roots like he’s trying to hold himself together.

I hear him mutter something under his breath.

“Gavin, it’s okay,” I say softly. “The FBI will find what they need. He’ll go to prison for a long time.”

He turns away, but I swear I hear it. “This is all my fault.”

My chest tightens. “Gavin?”

He faces me again, and that’s when I see it—his eyes rimmed red, glassy, like he’s seconds from breaking. It’s not anger or jealousy. It’s guilt.

“I need to tell you something.”

My stomach drops again. It’s been doing that a lot today and I’ve decided I would really like to get off this roller coaster. “Gavin, you’re making me nervous.”

He crosses the room and sinks down beside me, turning his body fully toward mine. He takes my hands in his, his grip firm but shaky.

“Sam was never a good guy.”

“Gavin,” I start carefully, “I know you two never got along, but⁠—”

“No.” He cuts me off, voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “It’s not just that. I mean… yeah, maybe some of it was that. But when I say he was never a good guy, I mean it.”

He inhales deeply, like he’s about to jump off a cliff.