She holds up her hand on our video call. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but do you think something else triggered you?”
“Such as?”
“Such as seeing Brennan again?”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Because it’s not the wrong question; it’s the answer being presented as one. Reaching for a bowl of popcorn I munch on when I’m thinking during a session, I take a handful. Chew, swallow, chase it with a drink of water before admitting, “I didn’t put it together.”
“Why would you? This is the first time in—” she waits for me to supply the timeline. As she always does.
“Eight or so years.”
“—over eight years you’ve spent any sort of time in his presence. Watching hockey or reading about his exploits in StellaNova doesn’t count.”
“Sure felt like it,” I mutter.
She hums. “Of course it did. Because that was as close as you ever thought you’d be again. But now that he’s in Willow Creek?”
“Now that he’s in Willow Creek, I don’t know what to do. Sure, we ran into one another. He found out the truth. We had sex—great sex. But where does that leave me?” I close my eyes briefly. “Irritable. Snapping at my boss. Unable to forget and uncertain how to move on.”
“Then let’s see how we do that. Because Amy?”
“Yes.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if you’re asked why you didn’t press criminal charges.”
I could have. I could have burned Brielle’s world to the ground with the amount of digital evidence Christin and Aio accumulated, not to mention the sworn statements I had in my possession. The problem was, I wasn’t in the right mindset to do anything. I was broken—surviving one day at a time to earn a future that looked very different than the one I imagined. By the time I was mentally ready, the statute of limitations had run out.
I learned to accept peace as my reward.
Only now Brennan’s here in Willow Creek, churning up the past and emotions I thought I’d long ago buried.
I’m so engrossed in my thoughts, I don’t look where I’m going until I crash into a hard body. “Umph! I’m so...”
Hands I recognize from the way they gripped my hips the other night send warning signals through my body even before I hear his voice. “No worries, Amy. I wasn’t paying attention either.”
Brennan. I was focused on the way my shoulders finally released their tension, on reminding myself that I did the right thing, I didn’t see him. Automatically, I step back. “Sorry for bumping into you.”
Then his voice says my name. It contains an agony that can’t be expressed using a million words. “Amy.”
I hear the regret, echoes of his bad choices, and a sorrow that overlaps with the one in my soul. Pausing to study him, I realize I’ve never seen him look this bad. He’s pale. Not smiling. He’s a very somber version of the boy I once loved. Relenting slightly, I ask, “Brennan, are you okay?”
“Me? I’m fine.”
I want to shout,Liar, but I restrain myself. “Then what can I help you with?”
Something like hope flickers across his face. “I heard what happened at school.”
“What did you hear, exactly?”
“That you walked into the principal’s office like a storm,” he says. “That you shut down a cyberbullying situation with passion. That you made it clear no one was going to hide behind procedure while a kid got torn apart.”
“That’s the bare minimum of what we all should be doing.”
He shakes his head. “From what I hear, the family didn’t think so. I hear the administration is scrambling.”
Even while I’m astounded by the accuracy of his information, I scoff. “That’s their problem.”
He smiles faintly. “That’s what everyone at The Honeyed Hearth said you told them.”
