“What?” I asked.
“I ran the red light,” he said. “It was my truck. I hit her car.”
Everything in me went hot, then cold.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said.
“You did this to her and you come in here and talk to her—”
“I pled guilty,” he cut in quietly. “No trial. Ninety days in jail.
Lost my license. Court-ordered rehab. AA.
I haven’t had a drink since that night.”
He spread his hands.
“But she’s still in that bed,” he said. “So none of that fixes anything.”
I stood up.
“I should call security,” I said. “I should have you thrown out and banned and—”
“You can,” he said.
“You’d be right to.”
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