A Bend in the Road - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,98

talking over the lump in her throat.

“I mean, what if you find out that Otis is innocent? I know you two don’t get along—”

“Don’t get along?” he said, cutting her off. He stared hard at her before taking a step toward her. “What the hell are you talking about? He killed my wife, Sarah.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he said. He moved even closer to her. “What I don’t know is why you’re so convinced that he’s innocent.”

She swallowed. “I’m not saying that he is. I’m just saying that you should let Charlie handle this so that you don’t do anything...”

“Like what? Kill him?”

Sarah didn’t answer and Miles stood before her. His voice was strangely calm. “Like he killed my wife, you mean?”

She paled. “Don’t start talking like that. You’ve got Jonah to think about.”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“It’s true, though. You’re all he’s got.”

“Don’t you think I know that? What do you think kept me from pulling the trigger in the first place? I had the chance but I didn’t do it, remember?” Miles exhaled sharply as he turned from her, almost as if he were disappointed that he hadn’t. “Yeah, I wanted to kill him. I think he deserves it for what he did—an eye for an eye, right?” He shook his head and looked up at her. “I just want him to pay. And he will. One way or another.”

With that, Miles abruptly walked to the door, slamming it as he left.

Chapter 32

Sarah couldn’t sleep that night.

She was going to lose her brother.

And she was going to lose Miles Ryan.

As she lay in bed, she was reminded of the evening she and Miles had first made love in this room. She remembered it all— the way he’d listened when she told him she couldn’t have children, his expression when he’d told her that he loved her, how they’d whispered together for hours afterward, and the peace she’d felt in his arms.

It had seemed so right, so perfect.

The hours after Miles had left produced no answers. If anything, she was more confused than she had been earlier; now that the shock had passed and she was able to think more clearly, she knew that no matter what decision she made, nothing would ever be the same again.

It was over.

If she didn’t tell Miles, how could she face him in the future? She couldn’t imagine Miles and Jonah in her home, sitting around the Christmas tree and opening gifts, she and Brian smiling, pretending that nothing had ever happened. She couldn’t imagine looking at Missy’s pictures in his house, or sitting with Jonah, knowing that Brian had killed his mother. Nor, of course, would it be the right thing to do. Not with Miles hell-bent on making sure that Otis paid for the crime. She had to tell him the truth, if for no other reason than to make sure that Otis Timson wasn’t punished for something he didn’t do.

More than that, Miles had the right to know what really happened to his wife. He deserved that.

But if she did tell him, then what? Would Miles simply believe Brian’s story and let it go? No, not likely. Brian had broken the law, and once she told him, Brian would be arrested, her parents would be devastated, Miles would never speak to her again, and she would lose the man she loved.

Sarah closed her eyes. She could live with never having met Miles.

But to fall in love with him and then lose him?

And what was going to happen to Brian?

She felt sick to her stomach.

She got out of bed, slid into a pair of slippers, and went to the living room, wanting desperately to find something, anything, to think about instead. But even there, she was reminded of all that had happened, and she knew with sudden certainty what she had to do. As painful as it was going to be, there was no other way around it.

When the phone rang the following morning, Brian knew it was Sarah on the other end. He’d been expecting the call, and he reached for the phone before his mother would have the chance to answer it.

Sarah got right to the point; Brian listened quietly. In the end, he said that he would. A few minutes later, his feet leaving foot-prints in the light snow, Brian made his way to the car.

His mind wasn’t on the drive; instead it was on the things he’d said the day before. He had known when

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