She digs into the basket and pulls a bottle out. “You brought wine. Can I have a glass?”

Over the next hour, our conversation has started to flow like it used to, without any pain clouding it. I stick to water since I have a long drive back, but I pour her a second glass. She has her knees tucked to her chest after discarding the heels while drinking the first glass.

“Lark?” She turns to look. I say, “I’d like to tell you the rest of the story of my cousin’s death, if that’s all right.”

Her lips have parted, and she leans forward, rubbing my shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“I shouldn’t have kept it in.” I swallow harder. Despite being open with my family a few years back, it’s not something I often talk about. “It controlled my life for too long. I told my family everything, and releasing the lies changed my life. I wish I had been strong enough to tell you when we were together. To trust you instead of trying to protect you from it.”

“You never should have had to bear that burden.” She nods and takes another sip of the wine. “I’m here and listening. Whatever you say is safe with me.”

I know . . . I knew all along. “Back when Lucas and I were fifteen, we were smoking weed and drinking, dabbling in a few heavier things. While under the influence of probably all of those things, we made a blood pact. If I go, you go. It was dumb and had no real meaning behind it. Best friends making vows they had no intention of carrying out just to see if the other was that loyal. I mean, it was right after he said if I smoke, you smoke. If you drink, I drink. If I go, you go. Meaningless in the scheme of things, but especially when you’re high as a fucking kite.”

Lark’s body has stilled beside me. Her glass is now next to her on the bench, and she’s staring out like she can still see the Hudson. When her mouth opens, I think she’s going to ask a question. I wish she would, but she doesn’t. She takes my hand instead and holds it on her lap.

Needing to get this story off my chest, I say, “I told you we weren’t hanging out much those last couple of years. I wasn’t into the same scene, but I remember when he showed up at my house. He seemed sober enough. Dragged me from the pool to go check out the cliffs at Devil’s Edge.” I exhale as the memory comes back. “I was glad to see him. It had been too long. I’d been holing up in my room, so I went along. He drove us out there and ran so fast from the car that I thought he was about to jump. Fuck.” I scrape my nails over my scalp to redirect the pain threatening to overwhelm me.