CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Martha woke up with a jolt. She had an arm wrapped around her and a body that was spooning hers. She carefully opened one eye to take in her surroundings without making it known she was awake. She was in bed. She was in her bed in her room in Peter and Mae’s house. Suddenly the fear-like guilt ripped through her as if she had just stepped out in front of a bus. The panic rushed through her like cold blood in her veins. She felt sick. She felt dirty. She wanted to cry. What on earth had she done? Why couldn’t she resist Peter after a few drinks?
It was the alcohol. She wouldn’t have done it otherwise. She tormented herself repeatedly, going over the events of last night, again and again, wishing she could turn the clock back. David’s arm pulled her closer to him, and
