SAMANTHA
James called me and explained the situation, and when I parked in the police station’s parking lot a little after three in the morning, Becky was the first person I saw. She hurried toward me, an angry set to her chin, and I was barely able to shut my car door before she was on me.
“You were supposed to keep quiet about what I told you,” she hissed in my face, her hands balled into fists. She held them up like she wanted to hit me, but she only pressed one into my shoulder. She pulled her punch, if it’d been intended as one. “You weren’t supposed to tell, Sam!”
“What’d you think I’d do? I had to choose between Adam and Mason.” The choice was obvious.
She hung her head, her hands dropping to her sides. “The choice was between me and Mason. I trusted you.”
“I’m sorry.” And I wa
