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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

He would not have picked me. What he wanted was for his parents to never have gotten divorced, to be living with both of them. That would always have been his first choice. His second choice was how he’d been living for the first nine years of his life, going between his mom’s house and dad’s house, having their full attention. Now that his mom was serving a short term in correctional, he couldn’t have that either. His third choice was to have his father all to himself. Maybe that wasn’t true. He loved Em. He had a bond with Em, and Emily and I were a package deal.

I had always told him he could call me whatever he was comfortable with. He called me Heather. We’d mostly gotten along, but I couldn’t fully settle into mothering him because the big decisions—school stuff, electronic rules, punishment, the sex talk—had always defaulted to Trish and Trevor. I had grown accustomed to keeping my opinions to myself, especially now that he was pretty much an adult. If I pushed him too far or asked him for too much, I worried he would shut me out.

It was a bit pathetic. Here I was, nearly forty, but I was occasionally wooden and dull, keeping my mouth shut. In some ways I was stuck at seventeen—the age I walked out of my parents’ house—still trying on different styles, different personalities.

I thought about Desiree. How was she so comfortable with herself, even with her shameful, criminal behavior? When I’d told her I'd assumed her arrest had been a misunderstanding, she’d said, “No, I’d meant to break in alright.” She was just as comfortable telling me she was having sex with her boyfriend’s brother. She had no shame. I wanted some of that.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. I let my hair drip onto my shoulders, down my back, and onto the floor. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the edges fogged.

I pulled my makeup bag out of the drawer and outlined my eyes in thick black eyeliner, smudged it with my finger to mimic Desiree’s look.

I dabbed sticky gloss onto my lips and forced a smile, trying to show my canines. My teeth were too blunt, too seemingly harmless to match Desiree’s seductive smile.

24

24

TREVOR

I sat at my desk, answering emails, this morning’s text—I’m worried about your wife—like a fly buzzing in my brain. I’d swat it away, but a few minutes later it was back to distracting me. I knew who it was from, and they were anything but worried.

Coffee. I needed another coffee.

As I got up, Wren walked over.

“Hey,” she said, “I’m headed to the break room for cake. You coming?”

“What’s today’s celebration?”

“Robin’s birthday.”