“Both legs and my left shoulder.” I fold my hands in my lap. “I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”
His eyes close briefly before they lock with mine. “Jesus, Eden.”
“I hit the dashboard.” A sigh escapes me. I’ve told the story countless times, but it never gets easier. “I was told by a doctor in the ER that my head hit the dashboard. The force of the impact shattered most of the bones in my face. That’s why I don’t look exactly like the Eden you knew.”
Chapter 13
Dylan
The remaining scotch in my glass isn’t enough to crush the onslaught of emotions that hit me with the force of a hurricane.
I scrub a hand over my face.
I thought it was a broken ankle. It was so much worse.
I’d bet everything I have that
she has no idea that I’m the cause of that suffering.
If she had a clue, she wouldn’t be sitting here sharing a drink with me. I cost her the chance to pursue a future in professional dance. I may have cost her more.
“Dylan?” Her voice lures my gaze back to her. “I just wanted you to know why my nose looks different, and my chin. It’s because of the accident.”
It’s because of me.
I was supposed to drive her home that night. I made that promise to her dad, but my arrogant immaturity got in the way, so she got in a car with her boyfriend.
“You still look like you,” I point out.
Her full lips tug up into a smile. “I know I do, but maybe I look different enough that you didn’t recognize me.”
“You know that’s bullshit.” I chuckle. “I looked at your yearbook photo earlier. You haven’t changed that much.”
“Earlier as in today?” Her brows peak with interest. “You were looking at the yearbook today?”
“For the first time since we graduated.” I lean back in my chair.
“I haven’t looked at mine.” Her voice softens. “I don’t look at pictures from that long ago.”
From before the accident.
Barrett first got word of the car wreck when he called home to tell his mom that we’d landed safely in Paris. She didn’t have any details beyond news of Eden’s broken ankle and Clark’s busted arm.
I called Eden’s dad, my high school football coach. I expected his rage because I hadn’t followed through with my promise to watch out for his daughter and see her home safely that night.
I didn’t get rage. I got silence.
He never called me back, and I never faulted him for that.
I let him down. Given everything he had done for me, it was unforgivable.
I sure as hell have never forgiven myself.
“I took us off topic.” She lets out a deep and exaggerated sigh. “I should have told you who I was when we were dancing.”
She should have, but she didn’t.
“I don’t know what came over me.” Her hand darts to her chin. “I got caught up in the moment.”