The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(103)

“She couldn’t have seen Kevin Hart until she was almost in the intersection, because he was doing sixty-five, tearing down the road. And the trees blocked her line of sight. But she couldn’t have been looking back at you, because there were skid marks, Faith.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “So she did see him. If she’d been looking at you, she wouldn’t have hit the brakes.”

She never saw it coming. Those words, meant to comfort, had haunted Faith for nineteen and a half years.

Faith stared at the screen. Even here, even with the screen resembling a game more than a fatal car accident, it looked horribly ominous. Her brain couldn’t quite compute what Levi was saying. “I—I don’t understand.”

“She did see him, but it was too late...not because of anything you did or didn’t do, but because the trees blocked her view, and because Kevin was coming so fast.”

He covered her hand with his, and the warmth made her realize how cold she was. “But I remember...I remember her looking at me, not at the road.”

“People’s memories are generally unreliable after an accident. You were looking out the window. You must not have seen her turn back.”

The blood seemed to drain into her knees, and a strange floating sensation enveloped her head. “So you’re saying it wasn’t my fault?”

“Correct.”

How could that be true? Everyone thought she had some role in the accident. Everyone. Her father had told her hundreds of times it wasn’t her fault...but he hadn’t known what really happened.

Levi did.

He was still looking at her, his green eyes patient, waiting.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The news was so enormous, it had to creep slowly into her heart.

Could Levi be right? He just looked at her, solid and patient, a slight frown between his eyes, waiting for the news to register.

“Are you really, really positive?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“So...it wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t hers, either.”

“That’s right.”

“Really? You’re not saying this just to be nice?”

“I never say anything just to be nice.”

He was telling the truth.

Faith pushed back from the table and turned her back on the laptop and on Levi. Went to the bookcase and grabbed the photo of her family...of her mom. No, no, that was too much. She picked up the little pink rock and closed it in her fist, leaning against the windowsill, looking out over the dark street, the quartz digging hard into her palm.

It was weird, then, because she was crying, tears pouring out of her eyes, but her mind was still reeling, as if she’d been hit in the head. Her chest jerked with squeaky little noises, but she couldn’t quite catch hold of that news.

Levi was there, then, pulling her against his broad, hard chest, wrapping his arms around her, standing behind her like a rock, and just held her close. She brought one of his hands to her lips and kissed it.

She hadn’t killed her mother.

That had to be the truth, because Levi would never, never lie to her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

FAITH COULD CRY for a very long time, Levi noted. He was thinking it might be time for a tranquilizer. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any.

He’d led her across the hall to his place, because, well, frankly, he had no idea what to do with a sobbing woman, and being on his own turf might help him a little. He got a box of tissues and sat her on the couch, where she continued to cry, burying her face in her dog’s neck, sobbing.

Those noises were like shrapnel to the heart, recalling the other time he’d been helpless to comfort her—her wedding day. “Want me to make you something to eat?” he asked, setting down a box of tissues. She shook her head. “A beer? Wine? Whiskey, maybe?”

Another head shake. She grabbed a tissue, blew her nose and kept crying.

Well, hell. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, and she kissed his hand again. Blue put his paw against Levi’s leg and licked his hand as well, then put his muzzle on Faith’s lap.

A bath. Women liked baths, right? A bath it would be. Also, he could get away from the crying for a second, because it made his insides hurt. His bathroom was needlessly enormous, and it did have a pretty amazing bathtub. Last time he’d used it, Blue had been the beneficiary of all those water jets. He turned on the knobs, checked the temp. Went into his sister’s bathroom and found some stuff under the sink—vanilla almond bubble bath, like Faith needed anything to make her smell any more edible—and went back to his bathroom and dumped in about half the bottle. Checked on Faith, who now had a pillow clutched to her stomach.

“Come on, Holland. Bath time.”

She looked up at him, so reminiscent of that little ghost who’d come back to sixth grade, that his heart gave a hard tug.

“Levi,” she began.

“No talking,” he said. He didn’t need to hear it, and she didn’t have to say it.

A half hour later, Faith’s sobs had stopped, though the tears continued to pour out, almost like she didn’t notice, starring her eyelashes. Even so, she looked like an old-school Playboy bunny, albeit a very sad one, her hair piled sloppily on her head, bubbles up to her neck. She’d accepted the glass of wine he’d pressed into her hand and was putting a fair dent in it. Her dog sat with his chin on the edge of the tub, slightly wary either of his beloved’s mood or the memory of his own stint in this tub.