My mother grips my arm in support. “Let’s sit down and talk this through.”
We back up and sit on the couch where my father releases Mr. Bridges then paces behind us. The Bridges take their seats on the loveseat and chair. Amber refuses to make eye contact any further with me.
“Were you at a party three weekends ago with Amber?” Mr. Bridges starts his interrogation.
I nod.
“Were you drinking?”
I nod.
“Do you understand that the legal drinking age in the United States is twenty-one?” he continues firing questions at me. “Do you understand that an intoxicated, underage girl is not of the right mind to give consent to sexual activities? Do you understand the pain you’ve caused our daughter? Do you understand the ramifications of your actions?”
“Sir—” I have to swallow the lump in my throat as I fight back emotions. “I understand the legal drinking age. I understand that, while yes, I was intoxicated, your daughter was an equal participant. So, no, sir, I do not understand the ramifications of my actions.” I fight back the urge to puke.
The man continues to fire question after question; some of them repeatedly, all of the accusatory. My mind races. Nine months …? Is she pregnant? We had sex one time.
It’s all a blur. I barely remember that night. How can this be happening? I need to pace. I need to puke. I need to get the hell out of here.
My father’s hand comes to the back of my head. “Since your mother and I failed to make a man out of you, the Army will,” he clips out. “Trevor will be signing enlistment papers today and will be gone within thirty days’ time.”
Mr. Bridges rises to extend his hand to my father to shake. “We appreciate your attention to the matter and easing the burden for Amber. We’ll be in touch about the future.”
Amber stands with her mother, never once looking at me as she exits.
Betrayal burns through me. How could she do this to me? To us? Did she care so little that she could honestly sit there and not fight for us at all? Meanwhile, I can’t help fearing what my future holds, my mind trying to grasp what they are saying.
I didn’t do it. I didn’t take advantage of her.
~~~
Two years later, I finish selection to become a Green Beret. The badass of the badasses. One of the elite. I remember, in the selection process, while trying to mentally survive from one obstacle to the next, someone said, “Hell is a fictional place. When you’re done here, it’ll seem like a fucking sanctuary.”
He was both right and wrong. Finishing selection was the most grueling thing I had ever done, but I had already seen hell.
Hell was your girlfriend saying you raped her when she turned up pregnant. Hell was getting a letter she lost the baby before summer was over. Hell was knowing her life went on while I couldn’t figure out if my memories of that night were teenage fantasies or reality.
Hell was living day in and day out, haunted by an event you aren’t sure really happened.
Chapter One
~Coal~
“Ropa vieja,” I order my shredded beef while Ice looks over his menu from beside me. Without having to watch him, I know what Ice is doing. He is scanning the restaurant, taking in the colorfully painted booths and the wood-stained tables while checking to make sure there is no threat. To men like us, it’s second nature to make sure your area is free of danger.
“Arroz con pollo,” he gives the waitress his chicken order.
With a nod, she takes off toward the back, weaving in and out of the tables, leaving me with one of the few people who I consider family sitting in front of me.
“It’s been three years, brother.” Ice meets my stare, not backing down. “Madyson is good. She’s working through it.”
I pause, then give it to him honestly, “You really think someone works through something like that?”
“Watching her, I know they do.”
His statement does nothing to ease my fears.
“You got a thing for my wife’s sister, Coal?” He asks the question everyone seems to wonder. “Look me in the eye and tell me. If you do, I’m not gonna judge. Not sayin’ I’ll be happy, either, but you need to buck up, Coal.”
“Fuck no. I’m old enough to be her damn dad.” I’m angry he even thinks this. “You know me better than that.”
“Then why, since the day we got her back, you’ve made it your mission to make sure she moves beyond this. Hell, Coal, you’ve paid for her college like she’s your own fucking kid.”
I glare at him. “No one is supposed to know that. As far as she goes, Morgan goes, or the damn Pope goes, you pay her way through school. Drop the subject.”