Page 109 of Just My Luck

After an hour, Dr. Bennet shifted topics to end our time together, but I couldn’t let go of what he said. Sure, the motherclaimed to forgive me, but I had always assumed that was bullshit. It was incomprehensible that she could ever truly feel anything other than hatred toward me.

Still, instead of turning toward home, I headed east and out of town.

The small two-storyhome was painted white, and each window was decorated with a planter box full of flowers. The neighborhood was bigger and more active than Outtatowner, but still maintained a bit of small-town charm. The hour drive gave me plenty of time to think, and rethink, how to even begin the conversation.

Before I could back out, my fist landed with a hard knock on the sunny, yellow front door. Seconds later, a woman pulled it open and stared up at me.

It was her. She was several years older, but I could never forget her face.

I sucked in a deep breath. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m?—”

“Abel King.” The woman stared up at me. “I know who you are.”

I nodded like the fool I was. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

I had taken one step in retreat when she walked onto the small porch and closed the door behind her. “Wait. Please.”

I turned to see her offering a soft smile. “I’m glad you came.” She gestured toward her home. “Would you please come in?”

My tongue was thick and motionless. I nodded and followed the woman into her home. It was homey, and windows allowed bright light to stream in and make the space feel open and airy.

She gestured toward the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”

I shook my head, and she sat in a chair next to me. With my hands clasped in front of me, I stared at the floor. “Ma’am, I came here to say... I needed to—” Adequate words escaped me. Emotion rose in my chest and stung the bridge of my nose.

“Please, call me Rebecca.” Her gentle hand rested on my forearm. “May I go first?”

I glanced up to see her soft blue eyes staring at me. I nodded.

“I want you to know that I do not hate you, Abel King.”

My frown deepened. I couldn’t understand. “How could you not hate me for what I did? What I took from you?”

Rebecca sighed and looked at me with pity. “I hate what happened. I hate that we lost Chase and that nothing will ever be the same. I hate that you went to prison for something that was so clearly an accident. I hate that I chose the highway instead of the back roads because I assumed it was safer. I hate knowing I was partly responsible, but let you take all of the blame.”

I shook my head as my mind swirled. “I don’t understand.”

Fresh tears swam in her eyes. “I told them. When the police came to the hospital and asked me what happened, I told them what I knew... Chase and I were in the car, driving home. It was late. And dark. Something on the side of the road caught my eye—a deer, I think. It darted in front of us, and I swerved.”

Her eyes went glassy, and she shook her head as if she were reliving that night in her mind. “I think I overcorrected. Got too close to the center line when I crossed it. It was at that moment you must have dozed off, and it just... happened. It was horrible, perfect, devastating timing.”

My breath was ragged. I could barely comprehend what I was hearing.

My car never crossed the center line? It was why, after the crash, her car ended up in my lane instead of the other way around.

As I stared, she continued: “I was mourning my son. I was hurt and angry and in a really bad place. Later, my lawyer told me that if I mentioned the deer again, I could get into trouble myself, so I didn’t.”

Understanding washed over me, and my eyes lifted to meet hers. “It was removed from the police report.”

She swallowed and nodded. “I don’t know how or why, but yes.”

My father.

He may not have had enough pull to sway a judge, but he certainly had enough power to convince an officer to leave out a few details in the investigation, ensuring a harsher sentencing for me... to teach me a lesson.

“I realized too late that it was an accident,” she said. “The only way I knew to help was to speak at your trial.”

I felt sick. Everything I’d carried, every night I’d lie awake wishing it was me instead of Chase came flooding back. “It was still my fault. I was overly tired. My reaction time was delayed.”