"I drove almost four hours to be here. To see you." She pushes her fingers into my hair. "I thought about you a lot over the years."
"You're all I thought about." I stare at her, because it's so surreal that she's here like this, so suddenly, so unexpectedly. "I was so young, Amy. So dumb. So drunk. She…I—"I shake my head. "Sounds stupid to even say it, but I thought it was you. That's how wasted I was. Fucking Cassie Miller."
Amy groans. "Cassie Miller. She always did want you, and she hated me for having you." She frowns at me. "She came on to you?"
I shake my head. "No. She…I was almost passed out. All I really remember is…" I close my eyes and for the first time in years I go back to that night in my mind. "Dark hair, hands, being kissed. Being touched. Jacked off. It felt good, and I was drunk. Couldn't see straight—could barely fuckin' move. It's honestly shocking that my dick even worked. But she was like, ‘c’mon Fee, it’s me. Don’t you want me?’”
She closes her eyes, wincing. "She really said that? It's me?"
I nod. “Yeah. Black hair, similar skin color." I cover my face. "She…she did everything. I couldn't even sit up. When she finished, she got off and leaned down to kiss me. And then I…" I scrub my face, wishing to hell I was sober for this. "I realized who it was. Who I’d just fucked. That it wasn't you."
"Everyonesaw, Fee." She says it in a whisper. "I saw. I watched it all happen."
"You did?" I shake my head. "I didn't know that. Why didn't you say anything? Do anything?"
“I was across the field with Becky, Rachel, and Fiona. I didn't understand what was happening at first, and then when I did I was so stunned I couldn't move. And you…you went with it. That's what I saw—you laying there letting another girl put her hands all over you, letting her fuck you. That's what I saw."
I nod, guilt and regret burning in my belly. "I…Amy, I…I'm sorry. It was dark and I was so goddamn drunk, and I thought she was you."
"I never let you get two words in," she whispers. "I've regretted that every single day since. I should've let you explain. I knew how drunk you were. I knew how Cassie felt about you, and how much she hated me. I knew she'd do anything to get you. I just…I was so shocked and hurt that I never…I couldn't think straight."
"I've hated myself ever since," I whisper. "That I did that to you. That I let that happen." I fight nausea at the memory. "I haven't been that drunk until now." I laugh. "Except for the year after you left. I was a colossal mess for a while."
She laughs bitterly. "Me too. I went boy crazy in college. Slept with every guy I could, trying to erase you from my system."
"Did it work?" I ask. "I mean, I guess it did. You got married and had kids."
Her laugh is not just bitter, now, it's…whatever is uglier and angrier than mere bitterness. "That was more of the same, babe. Greg was…everything you're not, in both good ways and bad. He was the right choice, on paper. Smart. Successful. Rich. Stable. Attractive. Sensible."
I bark a wry, sarcastic laugh. "All the things I'm not, huh?"
She shrugs a slender shoulder. "He was also egotistical, narcissistic, chauvinistic, self-centered, vain, and a totally elitist snob."
"More things I'm not, eh?" I say, snickering.
She nods. "It was a horrible marriage. I gave up my career to have his kids and raise them. And once he had the two kids to show off at the country club and the church and bring your kids to work days, he wasn't interested in me at all. He left me at home to raise the girls and take care of the house like a good little wifey while he went golfing and fucked every secretary and assistant and temp he could get his hands on while if I so much as looked in the direction of another male, he'd lose his shit."
"He hit you?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No, just mental and emotional abuse, abandonment, neglect, entrapment…you know, the standard stuff."
"That shit ain't standard, Amy."
She snorts. "You'd be surprised, Felix."
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"Here in Three Rivers or here in your house?"
"Well, let's start with in my house at…" I check the clock on my bedside table, "three-forty-five in the morning."
"I had a nasty argument with Greg about custody. He thinks he's getting full custody, but I have all sorts of evidence of his infidelity, as well as recordings of him screaming obscenities at me, threatening to hurt me, talking about framing me for drug possession…I lost my shit, got in the car, and drove away. I ended up here."
"But…how'd you find my house?" I ask.
She grins. "Well, when I finally realized that I had to leave Greg, I had to start getting money of my own, since in usual abuser fashion, he controlled the finances. So I reached out to a friend of mine who's a private investigator, and she hired me to be an online investigator. I'd dig up everything I could find on social media and the internet about her targets. I got good at it. Which meant it was pretty damned easy to find your address."
I nod. “Okay, but…you just sorta came in?"
