Reborn, No More Scapegoat
Jake Carter called and asked to meet. We settled on the small hometown diner we used to hit up.
He couldn't look me in the eye the entire time, and we didn't exchange a word during the meal. It wasn't until we were about to leave that he finally pulled a property deed from his bag.
"This is for you," he said. "I accept my defeat. Consider it compensation for your emotional distress. Your name is already on it."
I didn't bother with polite refusals. I took the deed, mumbled a quick thanks, and got up to leave.
Jake scrambled to his feet, calling out from behind me with the one question he'd been burning to ask all along. "If you loved me back then, why did you let Brenda get to me first?"