Page 167 of What Goes Around

His throat moved as he swallowed.

“It was a mistake,” he admitted. “I was drinking. I was devastated. I thought I was going to be a father. When she told me she lost the baby. I was destroyed. She was destroyed. We were both drunk. It didn’t mean anything. It was grief. Comfort. Distraction.”

His voice cracked. “It wasn’t love.”

He looked at me like he was begging me to understand.

I watched him quietly.

Then I asked, “Did she bleed?”

He blinked. “What?”

“After the miscarriage,” I said.

He grimaced. “What? I… I don’t know. No. I don’t think so. Why?”

I studied his face for a long moment.

“Nothing,” I said quietly.

“Ashley,” he said, stepping closer again. “We can still fix this.”

“I would never be with you after you were with my sister.”

His face collapsed.

“I was drugged,” he whispered.

“And then you weren’t,” I said gently.

He had no answer for that.

I walked to the door and opened it.

“You should go,” I said.

He stood there, broken, staring at me like he wanted me to take it back.

I didn’t.

As he stepped into the hallway, I spoke one last time.

“Nick.”

He turned.

“After a miscarriage,” I said quietly, “a woman usually bleeds for weeks.”

His brow furrowed.

I didn’t explain.

He left with confusion heavy in his eyes.

I closed the door behind him.

As for Apple, I kept everything.