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That’s not an answer. I want to say but instead, I pick up my shirt and slip on my shoes. She’s holding her stomach as if trying not to double over in pain.
“Bree…”
“Now!” Her scream is blood-curdling.
I leave the room, shutting the door softly behind me. I linger at the door and within moments hear loud, gut-wrenching sobs. In between sobs, she wails in palpable anguish, ‘I’m not a liar’.
Why is she crying so hard? She clearly knows more about that night than she’s letting on. And there is something painful about it. Why won't she speak to me?
You basically called her a whore.
Knowing there's no way I can leave her in this state, I go and stretch out on the couch.
It’s almost 6:30 in the morning when her sobs settle into occasional hiccups and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Hearing her cry tied me into crazy knots and I've had to resort to doing push-ups to relieve the awful tension since I couldn't risk a black eye by barging into the room and trying to hold her.
I hear her softly padding around the room, then the sound of the shower going. Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, steeling myself for her temper as the bedroom door opens.
She’s wearing a tank top and tiny shorts. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her hair is up in a ponytail. She freezes when she sees me across the room.
“What the hell are you still doing here Jordan? I thought I told you to leave.”
“Bree, how could I? Not in that state you were in. You can't really expect me to leave you sobbing like your heart was breaking.”
“As you can see, I’m fine now, so you can go.”
“Baby, please. I’m sorry I lost my temper. It was rude and inexcusable and no way to speak to you.”
She takes a deep breath.
“Is it true?” Her voice breaks. “Did I...did you really see that? You're sure it was me you saw?”
I go to her. “You really have no recollection?”
She starts to cry again. “I swear I don’t remember. I didn’t sleep with anyone else for six years. I don’t know who you saw, but there had to have been some mistake.”
I take her in my arms and tuck her head under my chin. She lets me hold her.
“It’s okay Bree. I do believe you." We stand like that for a long time until the tears stop. Then I lead her to the couch then get her a glass of water from the kitchen.
Settling in beside her I ask, "Why were you in the hospital that night?”
“I was in an accident. I don’t know how it happened but I woke up the next morning with bruises, a bad headache, and no memory of the previous night. Mom and Drew said I was hit by a car on the way home from work."
She takes a large sip of water and then puts the glass on the coffee table. "I'd taken a waitress job at Mima’s right after graduation you see.”
Mima’s Diner was one of our favorite places to eat out in Henderson. The uniform was a black shirt paired with a short, red skirt. Exactly what Bree was wearing in the parking lot. So she was working that night.
Did they take her from work? Drug her? Rage simmers inside me. I’ll find the son of a bitch behind this and make them regret the day they set eyes on Sabrina Wells.
“Mima’s huh? We went there a few times, didn't we? Had a special spot even.”
“Yes, the private booth. It was torture working there with those memories, but the money was good.”
Fuck. Guilt assails me. I was supposed to marry her after graduation. Instead, I left her to wait tables and get hit by a car.
I push the guilt away. “Didn’t we have a couple of double dates there?”
