I went on and told her about Dawn Steiner, how she’d asked for that big chunk of money that I didn’t have. And the deadline she’d given me.

“I think the police are after her now,” I said. “Since the story is out, she doesn’t have any real leverage. And for all I know, she might have been working with Aaron to harass us. That’s why—”

“That’s why you asked if Aaron had a woman with him when he came to the door.”

“Right.”

“And all because Blake wasn’t honest with you.” She shook her head. “What a bastard.”

I swallowed hard and told her about Blake coming to me outside the Pig, using the guilt over what I thought I’d done to the Steiner family to get me to go into Jennifer’s house and retrieve the incriminating letters.

Her face changed, and changed significantly, when I reached the next part of my story. I told her what she had already figured out—that I’d lied about the basketball game the night I really went to Jennifer’s house. And added insult to injury by lying again when she called me, asking me to come home. I sat across the table from her in our strangely quiet house, the absence of Henry’s banging and chattering more noticeable than ever, and her eyes filled with tears. She fought them off and put on the best face she could, but I stopped, reached across the table, and squeezed her hand, which felt cold.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I feel like an asshole.”

“That’s the correct way to feel,” she said.

“Do you want to stop talking?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. I want to hear the whole thing. I want to know about yesterday and how you got away from this crazy man.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, Ryan. I’m a big girl, remember? I’ve been through an MBA program and also sixteen hours of labor. I can handle this.”

So I finished the tale. All the way up to and through the stuff in the town house basement out at Hilldale Estates. The firing of the gun, the struggle on the floor. Holding Blake off so he didn’t pound Aaron into oblivion.

“I even punched Blake once,” I said. “When I found out he’d been gaslighting me over the accident. I couldn’t stop myself. I punched him in the face.”

“Good. Was it a hard punch?”

“As hard as I could make it,” I said. “I’m not really an expert on such things.”

“Good. I’d like to do the same thing to him.”

“I get it, but we’re not going to do anything with him anymore. We’re done. I’m done. He leaves a trail of destruction wherever he goes.”

“You’re right.” Her voice sounded distant and low.