She Stole My Fiancé, So I Married His Enemy novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: The Grave

On Thursday night it rained again.

I rode beside Keir in the black sedan with a bag of lavender peonies in my lap, and neither of us said a word until the cemetery gates.

He parked under the oak and turned off the engine.

"Walk with me," he said.

We stood at my father's stone, and the rain ran down both our faces.

"I was nineteen," Keir said.

I waited.

"I washed dishes at one of Richard Winslow's hotels. It was a Thursday, and I got off late, and I drove home on Route 9 in the rain."

"I know the road."

"Then you know it's two lanes with no shoulder past the bend."

I did.

"A silver Mercedes passed me at a speed it should never have been doing. It drifted over the center line."

My throat closed.

"A gray sedan was coming the other way," he said. "It didn't have time."

I put my hand on the cold stone.

"I was the first one there."

"You were there?"

"I pulled him out." His voice never rose. "He was alive. He was awake."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"He said he was late."

I made a sound I had never made before.

"He said you were waiting at school. He said you had your recital, and he'd promised to bring flowers, and he wasn't going to make it." Keir looked at the stone. "There was a bouquet on the back seat. Lavender peonies, wrapped in brown paper."

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