18. Chapter 18 - Cade
I can’t get the unsettling truth out of my head.
Eli has proven he’ll do anything for revenge.
My stomach rolls and I flirt with the idea of puking in the snowbank.
Rapping my knuckles against the cold wood, I don’t even wait for Pete to let me in. He’s alone and I know he ain’t the type to bring anyone home.
“Pete? Where are you?” I yell as soon as I step inside.
“On the shitter.” His voice drifts from the hall.
Fuck.
“Hurry up!” I’m gonna wear a damn hole in this carpet from pacing.
What Rosalyn said about her brother is eating me alive.
Pete shuffles out of the back, still wiping his hands as he glowers at me. “What the hell, Cade?”
“I need you to pull up my file. The wreck. The pictures. All of it.” My fist bounces against my thigh with nervous energy.
His thick bushy brows drop even further. “That’s all over and done with. You’ve grown since—”
“This is important.” I cut him off. It’s a struggle to not just run into his office and rip his computer off his desk to throw at him.
He’s the only one who can access the documents. If I get too high headed he’ll say no.
I can’t afford that if I ever plan on sleeping again.
Shaking his head, he motions me to follow. “Yea, fine.” Then he turns to glance at me over his shoulder. “You’re back early?”
“Rosalyn’s here. She’s agreed to help,” I grunt, crossing my arms over my chest to loom over him when he sits in front of his laptop.
He enters his password, then swivels to look up at me. “What changed her mind?”
“Eli threw a plate at her.” I shrug. It isn’t exactly an unexpected behavior.
Pete makes some sort of disgruntled growl before he goes back to his keyboard.
“What am I looking for?” he asks after a few keystrokes.
My heart races as I lean over him and peer at the screen. “All of those pictures.” I circle the three files of images attached to the report.
“Jesus, Cade. There’s almost three hundred of them.” But he clicks the first box to start them printing, despite his grumbling.
“As big as you can make ‘em.” I need as much detail as possible.
The machine beside him starts to whir as the first slips of paper fall into the tray.
His chair creaks when he spins to watch me. “What’s going on?” His voice is so firm that I know I owe him an answer.
“What if it wasn’t my fault?” My words crack in desperation.
I can’t look at him, but focus on the growing pile.
“She said something that really sat heavy, Pete. Her brother was mad enough to kill when he found out I was gonna marry Ava.” I try to blink away the sting in my eyes before I glance up. “What if he did?”
Am I a fool for clinging to this hope?
All I want is some sort of absolution. Maybe it’s a delusion?
“Cade,” Pete exhales and runs his palm over his face. “You know we went down this dark path more than once. All it’s gonna do is drive you crazy.”
I can’t hold back the tempest of emotions whirling inside of me. “But what if it was him?” I yell, spinning away. “He was there that night, buying me drinks. Ava showed up at the last minute. What if he was trying to get me fucking drunk so he knew I’d crash?”
Am I imagining the gleam in Eli’s eye when Ava decided to come home with me? If he knew he was setting me up, why did he almost encourage her to go with me?
Jerking my hat off my head, I run my fingers through my hair and tug on the ends. I need a damn trim, yet the ache in my scalp helps to redirect me.
“I just don’t want you getting lost in this again,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “You were in a bad place for a long time.”
I dig the heel of my hand into my temple in a failing attempt to drown out the throbbing, then trace down the scars lining my cheek.
Part of me wants to rebel against his wisdom. But there’s a lot of truth in his words. I nearly drowned myself in a bottle for years after the accident in self-loathing and anger. “I won’t. But I need to know.”
“Cade,” he grumbles, pushing his chair towards the filling tray. “You deserve some peace, friend. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” He gathers the pictures and shuffles them into a tidy stack, then holds them out.
Except when I reach for them, he pulls it away.
“Just fucking promise me you’ll give it only a day or two, then pitch these in the garbage. It’s almost Christmas. Call this whole thing off for a while and spend some time with your family.” He finally lets me take the hefty pile.
“I will. That sounds like a good deadline.” Tucking the photos under my arm, I pause at the door. “Thanks for being my only friend, Pete.”
He nods and gives me a half-hearted wave as I leave.
I hate that I can recognize the look on his face. I’ve seen it before, more times than I could ever count.
Pity.