“Evening, Mr. Westcott.”

“Evening,” I reply, my gaze maneuvering from him to Lark. “Evening,” I add for her.

“Good evening.”

As I pass by, I notice the rack has been emptied and stands outside the door. I duck out, not sure how long I intend to stay. I’ll greet a few guests, make the rounds to please my parents, and then hopefully make a clean escape without being noticed.

My older brother is the picture-perfect son standing beside my mom greeting guests, the first in line to helm Westcott Law Firm after my dad retires. A clap on the back and a squeeze of my shoulder signals my dad’s presence before he says a word. “Your mom and I appreciate you being here.” And when he does speak, his tone is lacking the judgment he has every right to feel, forgiving of the disappointments I’ve brought on the family.

“It’s the least I can do.” I shove my hands into my pockets and shift my weight to my heels. “Hopefully, this event will raise a lot of money for the university scholarship program.”

“I’m sure it will.” My dad may be the quieter of my parents, but he’s not usually at a loss for words. We stand, both looking around for something to talk about.

I finally say, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

“Eh, you have your life to live.” His eyes find me again, and he grins. “As parents, we’re supposed to raise you to be independent.” He takes a sip of his drink and savors it. “I’d say we’ve done a good job.”

Guilt still comes in waves, reaching the shores of my conscience the more time I spend with him. I take a step away, but he notices, and says, “No one blames you, Harbor.”

“I blame myself.”

“Lucas made the decision—”

His decision almost killed me, but I keep that part to myself, always locked deep inside. He dragged me out of bed, challenged me to the edge of that cliff. I’m always so fucking competitive. Was . . . still am, I suppose.

As best friends, we’d push each other to do shit we shouldn’t. We did with all the guys, but that afternoon it was just the two of us. I wasn’t in a good mood. Cliff jumping was the last thing I wanted to do, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the weather had turned warm after a long and cold winter.

I gave in to shut him up, though I should have stopped him. No one saw what an asshole Lucas could be except me. He was great at getting away with murder. I used to admire his skills. Now I resent him.

He left me carrying the burden of the truth.

He left me to tell lies.

He left me living when so many wish that I was the one who died.

Fuck him.

I warned him not to tempt the fate at Devil’s Edge. There was so much more life to live, and he chose to throw it away over a bet for a burger and fries.