Elise came close enough that her shoulder touched mine. “Play it,” she said to Wade.
The recording continued.
Randall sat in the car for nearly another minute without speaking. The dashboard light painted the underside of his chin a sickly green. Finally he whispered, “If she gets well, you tell her everything.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
His eyes closed.
Wade’s voice came again, gentler. “Randall. If she doesn’t?”
Randall swallowed. “Then she never knows.”
My knees nearly folded.
Elise caught my elbow, but I pulled free, not angrily. I needed to stand under my own weight.
Onscreen Randall went on. “If the treatment fails and she’s dying too, you do not put this on her. You let her believe I left because I was a coward. You let her curse me. You let the kids curse me. You let my grave stay empty to them if that’s what it takes.”
