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He didn’t.
“Before the accident,” he said, voice breaking, “it was… it was stupid. I was stupid. Jenna and I… it was a few months.”
“A few months,” I repeated, tasting the words like poison.
“I thought I loved you both,” he said miserably. “I know how that sounds. I was young and selfish.”
“So the night of the accident,” I said slowly, “you were driving home from her.”
“I was leaving her place when I hit the ice,” he admitted. “Spun out. Woke up in the hospital.”
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