A short, humorless laugh escapes. “Let me get this straight. When everything went down, my saying ‘I didn’t do it’ wasn’t enough. But Mark finally grows a conscience and suddenly I’m credible?”
Brennan’s voice drops. “That’s not?—”
“That’s exactly how it happened!” I roar. I take a deep breath and reign in my emotions. “I’m glad Mark finally told the truth. Really. It must be a relief to know you didn’t sleep with a slut and a liar. Oh, wait. Those were just the rumors going around about me at school.”
“Amy…”
“Pity,” I finish lightly, “that I wasn’t worth believing without a signed confession attached.”
His head drops between his shoulders.
“Was it just Mark’s confession that convinced you?” I ask, my voice steady in a way I don’t feel.
His hand slides into his pockets. “Part of me already knew. From the moment I saw you again, I began to question everything I thought I knew.”
“Yet, you’re here after speaking with him,” I spit.
“I didn’t need the proof after he confessed. I asked for it so I could give it to you.” He offers an older model cell phone to me but I don’t reach for it.
What Brennan doesn’t know is I don’t need it.
He stammers, “I didn’t believe in you back then. I believed what was convenient. What was shown to me.”
The words hit low and sharp. Not because they’re new, but because they’re finally being said. I say nothing, waiting my turn. “That’s what your mind rationalized? That I’d sabotage my future. Ours?”
His lips part before he clamps them shut.
“Because all Brielle did was exploit a bigger problem.” My voice is steady despite the pressure in my chest. “She just showed you how little faith you had in me to begin with. You used a convenient excuse to break my heart.”
“You know that’s not true.”
I scoff. “Please.”
His movements are slow, like he’s bracing himself before accepting an even heavier burden. He unlocks the phone, turning the screen toward me. What he’s showing me are screenshots of a text thread. I carelessly flip through the back and forth between Brielle and Mark.
It’s nothing I’m not aware of courtesy of Christin and Aio. In fact, the data they pulled was much more detailed—timestamps, metadata logs, IP addresses. A technical breakdown from a third-party expert who clearly explains it may have been my body but it was without my consent.
All of which I used when I sued the crap out of DormLust for refusing to take down the photo after repeated attempts once I moved back home.
But apparently, Brennan knows nothing of that. Yet, he’s staring at me with hope—like this device could be his absolution.
“I know handing this to you doesn’t fix anything.”
“It doesn’t.”
“But I couldn’t let you not know I know the truth.”
I meet his gaze. “I didn’t need your proof to know I was innocent.”
“I know. This wasn’t for you. It was in the event you ever ran into problems in the future.”
I hand him his phone which he takes back, securing it in the pocket of his jeans. His hands don’t shake but his jaw quivers before he whispers, “I can’t undo failing you.”
There it is. The real betrayal. My voice is flat when I ask, “Why do you think I demanded you leave that day?”
“You’re right.Iwas the one who destroyed us.Inever gave you a chance to speak.Iwas wrong. I’m so sorry, Amy.”
My chest aches. Not in a dramatic way. In the quiet, hollow sense of something that healed improperly because there was no other way for it to. “You didn’t listen.”
