Page 101 of Steady Stroke
“Adrian and I were at a party up north.” Emmett started shaking, which made his voice wobble. “First time I’d gone out since the fire. We both got wasted. I’d never drank before, plus my meds, and these guys I didn’t know gave me lines of coke. I blacked out the entire night.”
“You told me about that.”
“It was the same night as your accident.”
“So?” Lincoln scrambled to stand. “Coincidence doesn’t make you responsible.”
“A video does.”
For a split second, time stood still, because Lincoln couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. This was all some kind of misunderstanding. Or a joke. Some asshole with a video camera would pop out of the hallway and announce that he was being punked, because there was no way in hell that Emmett had been the hit-and-run driver last year.
“Adrian recorded me on his phone at the party,” Emmett said. “He said he wanted it for posterity, because he’d never seen me like that. We were on that road, Linc. It was the way home from the party.”
Lincoln’s hands started shaking to match his insides. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but please stop. Stop making this up. It’s not funny and it hurts.”
Tears snaked down Emmett’s cheeks. “In the truck I started singing, so Adrian started recording me again.”
“Stop talking.”
Emmett tugged his phone out of his pocket and tapped at the screen. “He never deleted it. I had him send it to me last night when I decided to tell you.”
“No.” Lincoln took a full step backward, then stumbled. Nothing felt real or in focus. He was in the middle of the worst possible April Fool’s in July joke in the history of the world. There was no fucking way that his sweet, loving Emmett had been the one to cause his accident.
No. Fucking. Way.
Emmett stood and brought the phone closer, his trembling hands unable to keep it steady, even as he hit play. The shaky video clearly showed Emmett behind the wheel of a truck. His voice burst over the speaker, singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” a cappella. Laughter, supposedly Adrian’s, burst out a few times.
“Dude, I think we’re going the wrong way.”
Okay, fine, so it was Adrian.
Video Emmett kept singing, visibly wasted but also at ease. Having fun. Carefree.
Fucking stoned out of his mind and driving a goddamn truck.
Video Emmett turned the wheel sharply. Lights flashed. The video jerked hard.
Lincoln made a noise deep in his throat he didn’t recognize.
“The fuck, dude? Look where you’re going,” Video Adrian said. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Dunno.”
The video stopped.
“That proves nothing,” Lincoln said. He was stretched taut,ready to snap. This had to stop before he lost his fucking mind. “You guys could have hit anything.”
Emmett choked. “The next day Adrian found a dent in the fender. And paint from a blue car. He got it fixed without telling anyone.”
“No.” His mind refused to accept what Emmett was telling him. It simply couldnotbe true. Truth meant Emmett had been lying to him, keeping something so huge a secret. Hiding what he’d done from the five people who’d been in that car. Three of whom he’d met in person this summer.
“Adrian didn’t tell me because I’d blacked the whole night out. He didn’t want me to get in trouble, and the police never came to our door looking.”
“He’s lying. You hit something else, it wasn’t my car. You didn’t cause my accident. You didn’t.”
Emmett wiped his eyes, his face blotchy. “You remember back in June, that time Adrian caught us making out in the living room?”
