“Forgive me, Bren. We’re best friends.”
I laugh again, but this time it comes out like someone stepping on broken glass. “Talk about irony.”
“What?”
“This reminds me of Amy begging me to listen to her because she loved me. There’s just one major difference—she wasn’t lying.”
I ease back just enough to look him dead in the eye. “I told her I couldn’t risk anyone thinking I was associated with someone who would do something like that.”
Mark’s eyes drop to the floor, shame written into every line of his face. “Brielle said it would blow over. That Amy would recover.”
Recover. They expected her to recover from sexual exploitation as if it were nothing? The words Amy flung at me on that godforsaken day whip through my memory.“But it’s okay for someone to have illegally put a sexual picture of me online. Without my consent? Violated me? You don’t even care if I’m okay?”
“You stood by while she was humiliated, when she isolated herself. While the student body decided who she was without her ever getting a chance to defend herself.” My hands shake. “You let her think no one was on her side.”
“No, Bren. That was you who did that.”
Mark’s words hit harder than being told I’d never play hockey again ever did. I release the hold I have on his collar and he collapses back onto the couch. I can’t get enough air into my lungs. Sweat dribbles down the side of my cheek. I swipe at it only for it to come harder and faster.
That’s when I realize they’re tears falling.
I’m nowhere near as good at math as the woman I lost was, but I’ll bet every dollar in my accounts they’re not even a fraction of the amount of tears she shed when I turned away from her. “You’re right. I will never forgive myself for not believing her.”
Mark’s eyes glisten now. “I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t be the one receiving that apology,” I say flatly. “And you don’t deserve to give it to her. Not without some serious soul searching.”Hi pot? Meet kettle.
I have to figure out how to approach Amy to make this right. Then Mark offers the one thing he can to redeem any part of this situation. “I still have the conversations between me and Brielle.”
My head whips around so fast, I’m certain I’m going to suffer a bitch of a headache tomorrow. “What conversations?”
He continues to rub his jaw. I guarantee that’s going to bruise tomorrow.Good, I think savagely. He deserves to feel pain more than I can mettle out without being arrested for homicide.
A few seconds later, an older generation smart phone is being tossed in my direction. “Password is 0811. The conversation is saved as photos. They’re the only thing left on the device.”
When I open the photos and scroll through, I realize I’ll have to talk with Amy. This is evidence of a larger crime—maybe one she can still convict over. I don’t know what the time line for defamation is in this state.
It’s also proof so she knows I now know the whole truth. That I was wrong to not believe her. That I’ll have her back the way I should have all along.
I drop all the photos to my own phone, upload them to my cloud, before sending a second copy to my email. Then, I announce, “I’ll be taking this with me.”
Mark capitulates. “I figured you would. The phone isn’t on my plan any more. You can just have it.”
I nod brusquely before heading for the door. Pausing with my hand on the knob, I choke out, “I walked away because I told myself I couldn’t be with someone who would do that to me. Turns out I’m the one who betrayed her.”
With every ugly truth finally laid bare, I ask one final question. “Why did you buy me a home in the same town Amy lives in? Didn’t you hurt her enough?”
“I wasn’t trying to. I was hoping once you saw her, you’d find a way to work the past out.”
His answer makes my throat tighten. The bitterness welling up almost makes me puke in his perfect penthouse that he scored because he was a coward.
Then again, so was I.
Without another word, I walk out closing the door behind me with a quiet finality that feels heavier than any slam ever could.
13
COLLAPSE: DEFENSE COLLAPSES AROUND THE SLOT
