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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

“Bridge is coming up,” she said. “Crooked River’s literally right there.” She pointed out her window. The darkness was soupy and revealed nothing but the sharp, broken shapes of leaves and branches. “After the bridge, you’ll turn onto my street.”

Behind me the car’s headlights wobbled, then swerved across the opposite line. My pulse hitched, and I braked gently to let the unhinged driver pass.

Instead of passing, the car nosed ahead of mine and swerved back into my lane.

He’s running you off the road.

I braked hard and swerved onto the shoulder, my skin lit with adrenaline and fear. Small rocks pinged the car’s undercarriage.

Tall grass whipped at my windshield as my car bumped and jolted to a stop a few feet short of smashing into a cypress trunk.

In the wash of my headlights, the car that ran me off the road parked on the dirt shoulder fifty feet in front of me.

12

12

Desiree made a mewing sound, like she was going to cry.

“You OK?” I said.

She turned to me. Blood smeared across her forehead and snaked along the inside of her eye, down her nose. In her eyes, helplessness.

My heart fluttered. There it was again—our connection. It was stupid, of course. And false, but it felt real. She looked defenseless, and the urge to tell her my darkest secret rose up. “Desiree,” I said, reaching out to touch her.

The weakness in her eyes vanished, and she swatted me away. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” she said and exploded into hysterical laughter, her head tipped back, her snaggleteeth bared, blood dripping into her mouth.

“It’s not funny,” I said. “And you’re bleeding.”

She stopped laughing like she had a switch for it. “If we were drunk, it would be funny. Seriously funny.”

Ignoring her, I reached for my phone—I needed to call the police—but my phone wasn’t in the cup holder.

Please let it not have jettisoned out the window.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and frantically moved my hands along the floor of my footwell.

Desiree’s door opened, then closed. Where the hell’s she going?

I glanced above the dashboard. One of my headlights illuminated disks of fungus growing on the side of the cypress tree. Five more feet, and I would have crashed into it.

Leaning into the passenger footwell, I ran my fingers along the floor. A wad of tissue. A pen. The rounded edges of my phone. Even before I pressed the button, I remembered.

Dead battery.

I sat up in my seat, my heart racing. You’ve got to get out of here. That silver sedan ran you off the road. Who knows why? Get Desiree back in the car so you can peel out of here before—

The guy had one of his hands on her breast.

I blinked to make sure that’s what I was seeing.