However, he could tell him about the investments and identify the people he’d sold them to. Torpedo BK’s scheme. His tormentor would no longer have any control over him, nor would this nameless viper dare continue the scheme with law enforcement on the alert. And with the weight of the Feds behind him, it was possible Cox could track down who was reaping the benefits from the stolen money.

He picked up the two glasses, the ice clinking as he carried them to the screened porch attached to the back of the house where Kimberly waited.

With every step, he prayed for fortitude.

She smiled as he joined her. “Thanks, honey.” She took the glass he held out and patted the cushion beside her on the wicker settee. “Sit by me.”

“That was my plan.” He attempted without success to force up the corners of his mouth.

“Are you feeling all right?” She studied him, forehead crimping.

“I had a rough day.” More like a rough four years.

He watched a bead of sweat drip down the side of his glass. Set his lemonade on the small side table next to him.

“Want to tell me about it?”

No.

But it was time.

He tried to inflate his balking lungs. Failed. Drew in small puffs of air instead, hoping he didn’t hyperventilate. “The story about my bad day starts not long after your accident.”

A few taut moments passed, and she set her own lemonade down. “This sounds serious.”

“It is.”

Just do it, Dave. Make no excuses. Bare your soul and throw yourself on her mercy.

“You know you can talk to me about anything.”

He forced himself to look at her, this kind, gentle woman he’d betrayed. He didn’t deserve her love. And after tonight, he might not have it. But he couldn’t continue the charade anymore. Not with people dying. “I have a confession to make.”

Her frown deepened. “Is there an issue . . . with your job?”

“No. This is about us.”

Her face crumpled. “I knew it. I’m too much of a burden, aren’t I? I’ve watched you get . . . thinner and thinner . . . while you run yourself ragged trying to . . . take care of me and manage your business. It’s not fair to you to—”

“No!” He took her hand, shock rippling through him. She thought the problem was her? “I love you, Kimberly. You’re my life. You could never be a burden. The confession is about my failures.”

She shook her head, tears brimming on her lower lashes. “You can’t have anything to confess. You’re a saint.”

If only that were true.

A lump of ice formed in his stomach. “I’m not a saint. I’m a sinner. A bad sinner.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true.” He twined his fingers with hers. Maybe for the last time. Once he confessed, he wouldn’t blame her if she threw him out and never wanted to see him again. “While you were in the coma, everyone thought you were going to die.”