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Back Confess to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

“It’s not the same. He doesn’t play. I want kids my age.” Seemed I might be in for another round of Emily and Trevor’s tag-teaming, jokingly begging for a baby. They’d done it before.

“Sorry, kiddo.” We walked through the lawn silently, water soaking through our shoes. My toes were cold and wet. I couldn’t wait to get home, get in my pajamas and get in bed.

I opened the car door for her, and she climbed in. “I mean,” she said, “how can all of your brothers and sisters be dead? That’s crazy. It’s like a curse or something.”

I wasn’t about to agree with her. Tell her how me and Death, we’d been chummy. And I wasn’t going to tell her Holly was alive either.

“Some people have bad luck, that’s all,” I said, closing my umbrella and tossing it onto the floor of the passenger seat. The smell of meat and tomato sauce from Tracy’s sub made my stomach lurch. You might have to pull over to throw up, you know? I half collapsed into the driver’s seat. Rain drilled my windshield, aggravating the headache beginning to clamp down. It’s a short drive. You can make it home.

I flipped on my wipers and headlights and eased the car onto the road.

“I don’t feel good, Em. Here’s my phone.” I passed it back, and without a word, she took it. Soft, electronic game noises ensued. The rain pelting my windshield was louder.

At a stop sign, I hit the brakes like a drunk. Too hard, too abruptly. The thermos fell from the cup holder and rolled in the footwell.

“Mommy, you need to drive better.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel good.”

My stomach swimming, I turned onto the main street. I hadn’t been sick like this for a while. Well, it’s the start of the school year, the stomach bug usually makes its way around pretty quickly. Or maybe something I ate. That sushi. It was probably the sushi left over from Alice Paulson’s book club. Can food poisoning come on that fast?

My question fell away as I passed the strangest scene in the parking lot of Paul Bunyan’s bar. Two familiar cars. Two familiar faces. Two faces that should never be seen together.

A silver Infiniti and blue Toyota RAV were parked side by side. The men leaned against their cars, standing in the rain, facing each other.

Trevor and Brandon.

Brandon Paulson, the toddler I’d coddled, the man I’d bashed with my flashlight, the man who’d been stalking me.

There were too many cars on the road, their headlights on and windshield wipers batting the rain. I couldn’t turn around quickly. You can turn at the next stoplight.

At the next stoplight, I put my car in park, threw open my door, and puked in the road.

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