“I hit him,” he said. Then, “With a bat.”

It was so quiet I could hear the refrigerator come on in the kitchen. “You killed him,” I said.

“I was seventeen,” he said.

“And nothing happened?”

“No,” Bear said. “I mean, a lot happened, but my father’s lawyer took care of all of it.”

“If anyone knew I even thought about killing someone, I would be in jail,” I said.

“I know,” Bear said. “It’s a terrible misuse of privilege. But that’s what happened. That’s the thing. That’s the secret,” he said. “Meghan likes to hold it over me.”

“The secret is that you killed someone,” I said, my voice high, on the edge of hysteria. I got up off the bed.

“Shannon,” he said, trying to appeal to me.

I couldn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. “You killed someone,” I said. “You killed another kid.”

“Shannon,” he said again.

I covered my own mouth. I thought I might scream.

“I’m not telling you to scare you,” he said. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m not dangerous,” he said. “I was a stupid kid. It was an accident. I meant—I meant to knock him out,” he said. He held his hands open, palms up, waiting for me to take them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

I was shaking inside.

“Listen,” he said. “I could have told you anything, but I told you the truth. I could have made something up, right? The secret could have been that I cheated on Meghan.”

“You are cheating on Meghan,” I said.

His voice was low and determined. “I told you the truth.” He made his face softer, his eyes bigger, his mouth loosened so it wasn’t so rigid. “Please,” he said.

“Please what?” I said.

“Come back here,” he said, holding his hands out.

I was still standing in the room, wringing my hands. Buddy rolled over onto his back, and Bear slapped his belly. The dog groaned with pleasure, his lips loose, his eyes half closed.

I got back on the bed, the dog between us, and I sat quiet for a few heavy moments, until Bear put his hand behind my knee, fingers moving in the crease. The dog snuffled back under the pillows, and I thought that maybe there would be a million things running, manic, through my mind, but all I could see was his face telling me: the other kid died.

I thought about Meghan saying they weren’t together, that they had an agreement, the long stroke of her finger down her jaw. “What happened to Meghan’s face?” I asked him.

“We were in a car accident,” Bear said.

“Really?” I asked.

He took his hand away. “You can believe me or not believe me. I didn’t hurt her. Or I did hurt her, in many awful ways, but that was not one of them.” He pushed the dog off the bed with a sweep of one leg, and Buddy stretched on his way, his hind legs hooked on the mattress, dragging. “If you don’t believe me,” he said, “this will never work.”