I turned and began walking through the curved hallway of Jesse Williams’s gallery, and by the time I reached the foyer, I wore a smile on my face.

Epilogue: Morgan

Epilogue

MORGAN

Late October, 2018

Apex, North Carolina

Oliver brings his van to a stop in front of the yellow house with the deep green door—the Maxwells’ house. The yard is a good size, maybe half an acre, and filled with trees, most of them beginning to show their fall colors. The house is nineteen-eighties vintage and looks well cared for.

“Nice neighborhood,” Oliver says.

It is. It reminds me of the neighborhood I grew up in. I study the yellow house. Three steps lead to the front door, but as I look more closely, I can see that a concrete walkway cuts a winding path from the driveway to the side of the front steps. Shrubs line the walkway, making it seem like an organic part of the landscape. Seeing the walkway tightens my heart. Makes everything feel very real. I wonder what other renovations had to be made to the two-story house to accommodate Emily Maxwell and her injuries.

There’s a blue van parked in the driveway. Someone is home.

“You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Oliver asks.

“I’m sure.” I think I lean on Oliver too much. He disagrees, pointing out how much he leans on me when it comes to making decisions about Nathan. Maybe it’s because I’m eight years closer to twelve than Oliver is, but whatever the reason, Nathan and I click. I love that kid. I suppose Oliver and I are actually pretty even when it comes to leaning on one another. Nevertheless, seeing Emily Maxwell is one thing I need to do alone.

“So, have you decided? Are you going to tell her the truth?” he asks. “That it was Trey behind the wheel?”

I stare at the house. I don’t yet know the answer. Oliver wants me to profess my innocence. He hates that I paid for what Trey did. But what is the point? It would be self-serving to tell her. I’m here to make amends, not to make excuses.

“I only want to tell her I’m sorry,” I say. “I want to see if there’s any way I can help her. I just hope she’ll talk to me.”

I didn’t write to Emily. I didn’t call her. I was too afraid she either wouldn’t respond or would hang up on me. Of course, this way, showing up uninvited, has its own pitfalls. I fully expect the door to slam in my face. The last thing I want to do is make things worse for her.