Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(41)

"I'm an idiot," she whispers. "I thought the best way I could get  Brogan's attention was to hurt him. I thought the worst I could do to  him was to be with you. I thought he'd see pictures of us together and  hear people talking about how we were all over each other. I wanted to  hurt him so he'd wake up and realize he wanted me more than he wanted  her."

"This is more than some stupid jealousy!" My voice booms, echoing off  the walls of my study, and I have to take a breath. There are people out  there who'd be destroyed by this conversation if they heard it. Mia is  out there.

"That's my point," Trish says. "I thought hurting him like he'd hurt me  was so important, and then suddenly none of that mattered. It didn't  matter how many pictures there were of you and me on Facebook. Brogan  couldn't look at pictures. He couldn't get jealous."

"You were in the car?" I can't wrap my mind around it, and my brain  keeps going back to the morning after the accident. I got a ride from  the hospital to Coach's house, and that damn deer was hanging in the  garage, bleeding all over the place. I grabbed a bucket and some bleach  water and scrubbed at the garage floor until my hands were raw, as if I  could clean it up, wipe it away, change the thing I couldn't even  remember.

"It was a terrible night for everyone," Trish says.

"If you'd just made me stop and call the cops, your dad wouldn't have  had the chance to cover it up." I press the flat of my palm to my chest  and rub it around, as if it might be able to rub away the hurt. "Why  didn't you tell me sooner? You've known what I've been living with."

"Dad wouldn't let me talk to you about it. He didn't want you knowing  I'd-" She looks away and shakes her head. "And I was scared. It was  awful. You're lucky you can't remember."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. Because I see it on her face now-the evidence of  torment I should have recognized months ago. The torment of living with  a horrible secret that's eating you from the inside.

"I remember it all. The sick thunking sound. The screeching tires. The silence in those seconds after."                       
       
           



       

"I'm so sorry," I say, because I can't apologize to Brogan's parents. To  Mia. To the people who really deserve to hear my apology. "I can't  figure out why I would have thought I was okay to drive. I'm not that  guy."

"I'm not looking for your apology, Arrow. Stop apologizing." She draws  in a breath and straightens her shoulders. "I just wanted you to know  that I know."

"Okay."

Mia opens the door and steps into the room with Katie in her arms. She  spots me and Trish and does a double take. "Oh. Sorry, I was just  looking for a quiet place to . . . I'll get out of here." She rushes out  of the room and down the hall.

"Fuck," I mutter.

Trish raises a brow. "Are you two . . .?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"I want to hate her," she says, staring down the hall where Mia  disappeared. "Hate is so much more comfortable than the guilt. But I  can't help it. I try to hate her and can only hate myself for what I  did."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "It's not like I thought he'd broken up with her. I just  thought it was only a matter of time. I think I always loved Brogan, but  she had him under some spell. I couldn't compete, so I played dirty."

"Forgive yourself, Trish. Carrying around this regret isn't going to help anyone. Try to forgive yourself."

She releases a puff of air that's probably supposed to be laughter, and  her lips twist into something that's probably supposed to be a smile.  It's all so much uglier than the girl she was before the accident. The  girl who lost the guy she loved.

"Have you forgiven yourself for that night?" she asks me.

"Of course not."

"Then you understand why I can't forgive myself either."





He's free to be with whomever he wants, I tell myself. But it doesn't  feel that way. Finding Trish in the study with Arrow-behind a closed  door-felt like as much of a betrayal as the night I walked in on Trish  and Brogan.

That's not fair. He's not mine. But tell that to my waking heart.

I go to the nursery to give Katie her bottle and rock her to sleep, and  after she drifts off in my arms, I settle her into the crib.

When I got back from Indianapolis this afternoon, everyone was at the  house. Again. It seems like they spend more time here than they do at  their own homes. And I know for a fact that Mason and Chris just got a  new apartment off-campus, and I thought they'd want to spend some time  there.

But no. Arrow has the pool. Arrow has the cool theater room in the  basement with the state-of-the-art sound system. He has the rec room and  the air-hockey table and the always-stocked fridge.

So they're here. And I'm actually starting to like it.

At first it was torture, a reminder of the life I used to have. The life  Brogan used to have. It was a reminder of normal when it felt like  normal was an insult to the man I loved. But now it's the new normal,  and I'm starting to feel like maybe it's okay. We don't know how much  longer Brogan has, and I'm starting to feel like that's okay, too.

I say a prayer every night that he'll wake up and be himself again so they can start dialysis before it's too late.

The first time Sebastian comes in from the pool, I wave him into the  kitchen. He doesn't quite fit in with this group yet. He's more like me  than like them. But they're trying to include him. He'll be an important  part of the team next year, and for BHU to have another chance at a  bowl game, they'll need him.

He steps into the kitchen. "What's up?"

"So, I've been looking at that list." We're alone in the kitchen, but I  still check to make sure no one's around to hear our conversation. "And  Bailey talked Denny's Garage into giving us a list, too. I compiled the  names and have been going through them."

"Okay. Any luck?"

I shake my head. "I keep thinking about that night and what I saw. Did you ever take a criminology class?"

He nods. "A couple."

"You know how they teach you that memory's not static? It's dynamic? So  someone can suggest an idea, and you might layer that idea into your  memory without realizing it."

"Right," he says cautiously.

"I don't know if that's what's happening, but ever since I saw Coach's  name on that list, I've been thinking about what I saw that night. Now  when I close my eyes and recall the car driving away, I see a white  bumper sticker on the tailgate of the car."                       
       
           



       

He folds his arms. "Okay."

"I keep thinking maybe it had a streak of red through it. Like a  Blackhawk Football bumper sticker. Like the one Coach has on the  tailgate of his car."

He shakes his head. "I'm telling you, Mia. I worked on that job. I remember it. He hit a deer."

"I know it's ridiculous. I know it, okay? But I have this idea in my  head, and sometimes when I get an idea in my head, I just can't make it  go away."

"You're talking about my coach," he says.

"I know."

He sighs heavily and turns to look out the back window, where Keegan  tosses a long-legged blonde into the pool. "I'll tell you what," he  says. "I actually know how I can put your mind at ease."

"You do?"

"If I can prove to you that Coach wasn't involved, will you drop it?"

"How are you going to prove that?"

"You'll see." He grins. "What do you say? I'll pick you up tomorrow  afternoon. I'll show you what you need to see, and then you go on a date  with me as payment."

I open my mouth to say no and then remember Trish standing in the study with Arrow.

Sebastian is adorable. Well, okay, Bailey would say he's hot, and he's  definitely got the sexy body thing happening, but he's adorable in that  floppy-eared puppy kind of way. His hair's always falling in his face,  and he keeps flashing that lopsided smile, like he can't be bothered to  bring the other side of his mouth up to meet the first. He's adorable  and he likes me and he doesn't confuse the shit out of me.

"It's a deal."



"You didn't need to come today," Mrs. Barrett says behind me. "I cringe to think of what you've been spending on gas."

"It's worth it," I tell her. The truth is, I'm afraid he's going to die  before I've said all I have to say, but every time I stand by his side,  the words dry up on my tongue. "How is he?"

She steps forward and squeezes my wrist. Sebastian's picking me up from  the Woodisons' in two hours, but I wanted to squeeze in a trip to the  Barretts' first. Instead of answering my question, she says, "Have you  thought any more about singing at the funeral?"