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My mom’s voice was sharp.
“He wasn’t driving to his grandparents that night,” she said. “He was driving home from his mistress.”
I looked at my husband.
“I was young and selfish.”
“Tell me she’s lying,” I said.
He didn’t. He just started crying.
“Before the accident,” he said, voice cracking, “it was… it was stupid. I was stupid. Jenna and I… it was a few months, that’s all.”
“A few months,” I repeated.
He swallowed.
“I thought I loved you both,” he said miserably. “I know how that sounds. I was young and selfish.”
“So the night of the accident, you were driving home from her.”
He nodded, eyes squeezed shut.
“I was leaving her place when I hit the ice. Spun out. Woke up in the hospital.”
“And the grandparents’ story?” I asked.
“I was scared.”
.”I panicked. I knew you. I knew if you thought I’d done nothing wrong, you’d stay. You’d fight for me. And if you knew the truth…”
“I might have left,” I finished.
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