“I know, Claire.”
His voice cracked.
That nearly broke me.
Ben had been my best friend since we were six years old. He had seen me cry when my goldfish died, when I failed my driving test, when my first serious boyfriend cheated on me, and when my mother’s car was found at the bottom of a ravine.
He had never lied well.
But he had hidden this from me for half a year.
And Rosie had hidden it too.
Through the wall came a muffled announcement from the operating room. A cart rattled past the far entrance. Somewhere nearby, a machine began beeping with slow, indifferent regularity.
I pointed at the paper in Ben’s hand.
“Give it to me.”
“Rosie wanted me to explain first.”
“She may never wake up.”
The sentence left my mouth before I could stop it.
Ben flinched as though I had slapped him.
I instantly regretted it, but I did not take it back.
“Give me the letter.”
His fingers tightened around the page.
“It isn’t just a letter.”
“What is it?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
“To everything your father has spent seventeen years burying.”
I laughed once, a sharp and broken sound.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
