Not once had it crossed my mind that a confession needed to be made. What we’d done in the past was his secret, not mine. And like all secrets I kept for him, that one was to be buried with me. To the grave. That was then. Now the secret felt like ours. And maybe it had always been ours, but this would be the one, if revealed, that made the others hard to ignore. That made the others look like the gateway leading to where we were now. Immunity wouldn’t be granted to me. The trial, in the court of Clint, would end with a guilty verdict. Fear clung to my ribs, racking its claws across bone.
