She jogged her memory for a summer he hadn't spent with her. He'd called her once when he was in college and said that he wanted to spend the summer in Aquaville instead of Phoenix. She remembered her disappointment about not being able to see him. She also remembered being happy for him. He needed some change after his parents had died, for he wasn't in a good mental space.
It was this year. It had to be. Chris had spent every other summer with Giselle. This was the only one they were not together in.
Her heart thudded against her chest as they drove back to Phoenix. She stayed silent the entire ride home. Chris didn't acknowledge it, for he was silent, too.
By the time they entered the gates of her house, it was almost midnight. She got out of the car before Chris could jog up to her side to open the door for her. She ran inside. Up the stairs, into her bathroom, she threw up.
She couldn't think over the ringing in her ears. She couldn't understand why her life wasn't slowing down. One thing after the other. She couldn't take it anymore.
Her heart ached. Did she know Chris the way she'd prided herself on? Or was it all an illusion? Was Chris not the man she'd fallen in love with? Had it all been a lie?
Stepping into her room, she saw Chris storming inside, panicked. He moved toward her quickly and held her face.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
She stared at him, trying to convince herself of his innocence, but all the evidence pointed toward her suspicion. He was one of the men who'd assaulted and killed Amara.
"How did you get away?" she whispered, her eyes burning.
His eyebrows knitted. "What?"
"When all your friends died... How did you get away?"
He shook his head, his lips tugging down. "I don't understand."
"What did they do?"
He licked his lips and moved back. "Why do you wanna discuss this?"
"Please answer me."
"It's not something I wanna talk about, Giselle," he said with soft determination.
But she had to know. "Did they rape a fourteen-year-old?"
Chris stared at her, panic written all over his face.
Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. "They did, didn't they? What were you doing there?"
He looked at her in shock. It broke her heart because it was the same way Xavier had looked at her when she'd accused him of knowing who'd killed her father.
"You know who she was?" she asked. "It was Xavier's sister."
Chris inhaled a sharp breath as if this was the last thing he'd expected to hear. "I didn't—"
"Do you know who killed your friends?"
His jaw ticked.
"Xavier," she said, her voice calm, not revealing the storm that brewed inside her. "How did you get away?"
His brows merged again as if he couldn't comprehend her question. "Why do you keep saying that?"
"Because I'm curious!" Her voice raised. "How does one save himself from retribution? How did you run from his revenge?"
His mouth parted, eyes instantly turning red, and he stared at her as if she'd shattered his soul. He gulped and took a step forward. "G-G-Giselle?"
She inhaled sharply, suppressing a sob. He was heartbroken. That was proof enough. Had he thought she'd never find out? Was there nothing in this world except betrayal? Had she not known Chris at all?