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I just keep walking and ignore her.

“I don’t know about you, but if I were about to meet some famous author, I’d be pretty disappointed if she showed up in workout clothes and a ponytail. But hey, that’s just me.”

Damn it. She’s right. I was in such a rush to get out of the B&B that I didn’t even think about what I’d wear for the actual event. Not only that, but I could definitely use a shower after walking for an hour.

I glance back at Amber, taking in her flawless makeup, perfectly styled hair, and the way her outfit looks like it was put together by a professional stylist. Her dark skin practically glows in the afternoon sunlight. Apparently, even a casual drive warrants looking like a million bucks in Amber’s world. And here I am, about to do a public reading looking like I just rolled out of bed.

“Fine,” I grumble, stopping. “Maybe I could use a ride after all.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She stops the car long enough for me to climb into the passenger seat.

“So,” she says once we’re moving again. “I bet you’re feeling pretty good about yourself right about now.”

“I guess.” I shrug. “But it’s just a reading. It’s no big deal.”

“I wasn’t talking about the reading.”

I turn toward her. “Then what were you talking about?”

Whatever trace of amusement was on her face disappears.

“I know it was you.”

“You know what was me?”

“Stop acting all innocent. You know damn well what I’m talking about.” Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Brooke.”

“Brooke?” I parrot, having no clue where she’s going with this.

“I know you killed her.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I know it was you,” she seethes. “First Jordan. Then Sydney. And now Brooke. I know you’re behind all of it.”

“You’re insane.” I laugh, since this has got to be a joke.

“Am I? Or am I the only one who is thinking clearly?” Her head snaps toward me before returning to the road. “I couldn’t give two fucks about Jordan and Sydney. Good riddance, for all I care. But Brooke?” Her voice cracks around her name. “What the hell did Brooke ever do to you?”

My jaw ticks. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not fucking kidding.”

“Look, I had nothing to do with your friends’ recent streak of bad luck. And I’d like to say their deaths erased everything they did to me, but it didn’t.” I glare at her. “Death doesn’t turn assholes into saints. Brooke included.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Brooke that way. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

I actually laugh at her statement.

“Then why did she go along with everything you Reds did to me?”

“That’s no excuse for killing her! She was a mother. Someone’s wife. But most importantly, she was my friend!”

“You know what this all sounds like? Guilt. You feel guilty for being such a shitty friend to her in the last days of her life, and now you want someone else to blame just to make yourself feel better. But guess what? You’re the one who has to live with the choices you made. You’re the one who has to sit with the possibility that maybe you had a bigger hand in pushing Brooke over the edge than you want to admit. Honestly, I couldn’t give a shit either way. I know I didn’t kill her. You? I’m not so sure.”

“You always did like playing the victim,” Amber mutters, as if everything I just said went in one ear and out the other. “You think you’re the only one who had it rough in this town? Newsflash, Max. You weren’t. Do you know how many Black families lived in Fairhope when I was growing up?” She takes one hand off the steering wheel and holds it up between us. “I could count them on this hand.”