One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

Silence fills the car with my confession, and Dalton grows stiff beside me.

I rush to tell him the rest because he may never talk to me again after this.

“The car toppled over and over, and I wasn’t even mad as we rolled down the hill. I didn’t care that I wrecked your perfect car. I didn’t get upset until I looked over and you were no longer there. One minute you were berating me, and the next you were gone.” I finally find the courage to look up at him. “I looked for you. I yelled until I couldn’t speak, but you were nowhere. You were just—gone.”

“Hey.” He cups my face, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s going to wrap his fingers around my throat. “It was just a car.”

My eyes search his as shock and confusion war with each other in my head.

“You loved that car. It meant everything to you.”

His thumb swipes at the tears that continue to roll down my cheeks.

“I was a materialistic ass. It was just a car.” His eyes search mine before settling on my lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“But, you’re not.”

“I’m perfect,” he argues, but not in a narcissistic sort of way.

“Your memories are gone. That’s my fault.”

“I’m glad my memories are gone.” His hand trembles as he cups my face. “I wish I could wipe yours as well. I wish I could go back in time and undo every terrible thing I did to you, take back every hateful word, and do things differently.”

“I didn’t mean to lie, but your mom visited me in the hospital, and when I found out she presumed you were driving, I didn’t correct her.”

Since I’m confessing, I might as well put it all out there.

“Everyone thinks you were driving because you never let anyone drive that car, and I just let them. Everyone is going to hate me when they find out. Not like that changes much for the people at school, but my parents may never forgive me.”

“It was an accident.” He forces my chin up when I try to look away. “I’m not mad, not about any of it. You could’ve kept it all a secret, but you’re an amazing person.”

“D-do you hate me?”

His face softens even more. “Baby, I could never hate you, and you don’t have to worry about anyone else finding out. I’m going to let them keep thinking I was driving.”

“Wh-what? Why would you do that?” I don’t even want that if I’m being honest with myself. The guilt is too much to keep dealing with every day.

“The truth doesn’t change anything, so there’s no point.” He shrugs as if the pain and disgrace I’ve suffered with for the last month were for nothing.

“I’m not asking that of you.”

“I know.” He gives me a weak smile. “Are you still up for that snow cone?”

I can’t help but chuckle. My confession has been eating me alive, and he’s acting like I just told him I broke a plate in his kitchen, rather than drove his car off a ravine and totaled it.

“I need a minute,” I confess. “My face must be a mess.”

A sharp breath escapes his lips when I lean closer and reach for the napkins in the glovebox.

“Your face is as beautiful as always.”

I smile at his generous lie, but otherwise, keep my lips shut. My luck has to run out soon. Not long ago he confessed he loved me, and he doesn’t seem to care that I ruined his life. The other shoe will drop soon, and I don’t know that I’ll be ready for it. He’s already broken down the walls around my heart.

His next blow will be deadly.

I’m sure of it.Chapter 27DaltonI watch Piper as she dabs the tissue under her eyes. She’s absolutely gorgeous, and I’d scream it from the rooftops if I could.

Am I shocked at hearing her confess that she was driving my car that night? I guess I am, but it doesn’t change anything.

“Are you sure you don’t hate me?” she asks, keeping her eyes on her hands.

“Positive.”

She sighs and leans back against the driver’s seat. She’s no longer sobbing, but the tears haven’t stopped flowing down her pink cheeks.

“I saw you in the hospital,” I whisper. “You walked past my room, but all I got was a cursory glance. My mom had to tell me who you were, and I hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t remember you. How in the hell does someone forget an angel?”

She snorts, unladylike and loud.

I’m grinning when she turns her head to look at me.

“Really?”

“It sounds corny, but it’s true. While I was out, my entire world was black and gray. Then you walked by with long blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.”

“Did they do a personality transplant during your surgery, too?”