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I digest that. Think. And get a little excited. And a little nauseous, naturally.
“You are?” I guess he didn’t want to go into the week surprised. He wants to be prepared for the article.
And I guess he also doesn’t give a shit anymore about blabbing his side of it.
“It can be on the record too.”
I would celebrate at the news, jump up on the bed and squeal as coffee sloshes about if I weren’t so concerned over the look on his face.
“Okay,” I say, setting the mug to the side. The sound as it makes contact with the wooden surface echoes into the space between us. “Whatever you want.” I sound calm, I think. Not overly eager.
He has to pep talk himself for a moment, and when he finally speaks, his eyes fall to the linens. “I can start with what I remember, if that’s okay.”
“Whatever you want,” I repeat. It’ll give my stomach a moment to settle anyway. I then add, “Are you sure it’s…safe to speak here? Should we go somewhere else, or talk on the way home?”
“It’s fine. Ruby and Mom are still asleep.”
“The butlers?”
He thinks about it a moment. “It’s fine.”
I let him think about it a moment more. Make sure his impatience isn’t overriding his good sense, as it tends to do. “You sure?”
“Yeah. They’re in the kitchen getting ready for breakfast.”
More silence.
He’s the one to break it. “What I said before was true—I don’t really remember much because I was so drunk. But I do remember some things. I remember waking up on the curb. I don’t know who pulled me out of the car. I think it was Dad.”
I nod. That matches.
“I also remember him driving me home. Ruby showed up later on and cleaned all my cuts. None of them needed stitching. I was sore, though, for weeks, but she said nothing was broken. She kept me drugged up on painkillers while I healed.”
“Did you ever ask them questions about the wreck?”
“I did, but every time I was told just not to ask about it, and not to speak about it to anyone. They said it was no one’s business, and all I needed to know was that Connor was driving and the girl who hit us was on drugs.”
“Was he driving, though?” My heart jumps. I hope he corroborates what Meaghan told me. Especially since this is on the record.
It then fully sinks in how he’s giving me permission to put this in the article. He’s knowingly speaking against his family. Hence, the anxiety.
I would be scared too.
I’m scared for him.
“That part is the fuzziest because I was passed out when the wreck happened, but something in my gut tells me he wasn’t.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they were being too secretive about everything. They wouldn’t let me or Rose talk about it at all. Even when it was just us.”
“Your parents wouldn’t?”
“And Ruby.”
I bristle at the thought, though I shouldn’t be surprised. “Well, the only other ones that could have been driving were you or Rose, right? Did Rose say anything about driving that night?”
His expression darkens to sadness. “I…she wouldn’t say, but I’ve always wondered.”
