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Faith

Page 17

by Ashe Barker


  “So, we learned it. Now we leave it. Right?”

  “Right. Except—should we tell anyone else about this? Mike, perhaps?”

  Ewan regards me for several moments, his head tilted to one side.

  “What would that achieve?”

  “Well, the inquest… The coroner said it was an accident. The crash…”

  “The crash was an accident. We always knew Ed was riding like an idiot. Now we know why. It was still an accident though.”

  I chew my lip, turning over the possibilities and ramifications in my head. “Mike loved her. He has his memories and he doesn’t need to have this to contend with, spoiling his image of his sister.”

  “That’d be my take on it too.”

  “But, the phone. Does he want it back? What if he ever…?”

  “We’ll delete the texts. We’ll check Ed’s phone, and delete any from there too. And when I can get Carrie’s iPad started up, we’ll check on any social media sites and do what we can to erase any references there as well. Luckily that stuff’s so fleeting there may not be anything left to find.”

  I stare at him, my gaze intent. “So, we know what happened, what really happened, but no one else needs to. Are we agreed?”

  Ewan nods. “That feels right to me. We let this die with them.”

  “What about forgiveness? Can we forgive them?”

  “In time, perhaps. I’d like to think so. We can certainly move on and leave it in the past. I already have, I think, but I accept it’s easier for me. I had less invested.” He hesitates, his expression one of uncharacteristic uncertainty, as though contemplating whether or not to continue his train of thought. He does though. “If they hadn’t behaved as they did, they’d be alive still. You’d still be my gorgeous, unattainable next-door neighbour, married to someone else. I wouldn’t have wished them dead, but here, now, with you, I can’t say I’m sorry the way things turned out. Every cloud, and all that.”

  He smiles at me, that sexy, sensual leer that turns my pussy to a molten, damp mess. I manage to smile back.

  “You look tired, Faith. Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “Not so’s you’d notice. And you look jet-lagged, sir.”

  “I’m wrecked. Bed?” He holds out his hand.

  “Yes, sir. Bed.”

  The End

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