I'm Sorry

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My nose is so stuffy. It's worse than when I got kicked. I feel pathetic and hopeless.

Sniffling, I look at Mr. Juarez, who sits at his desk typing away. He brought us to his office and shut us in without telling the secretaries what was wrong when they saw us. He managed to get me to say to him what happened, and poor Becca accidentally let it slip she'd had sex with River and that her best friend was fucking him too. She got so embarrassed that she threw up.

Luckily, Mr. Juarez realized what was happening and grabbed a trash can for her before she puked on him. I think she's faking sleep because she's even more embarrassed now.

"Becca's mother is unable to come pick her up," Mr. Juarez says quietly, eyes flitting over to where she's lying on the small couch in his office.

"Oh." I look down at my phone. Gabe is texting nonstop because I wasn't at my classroom when he went to wait for me. I don't respond.

"Colette," Mr. Juarez says in his commanding but concerned tone. "Look at me, sweetheart."

My chin wobbles as I look up. I hate this. I know exactly how rumors are and that River is untrustworthy, but what if . . . Guys have always lied to me to get what they want.

Mr. Juarez sighs, standing and rounding his desk to lean against it beside me. "I don't think it would be true. I know you're aware of how much sex he has had, but he wouldn't lie about that—not when he knows you know about him. What would be the point?"

I nod because he makes sense, too, but I feel lost.

"This is inappropriate for me to say," he continues, "but I know how rough Gabe is. He and I are more brothers than uncle and nephew—I was thirteen when he was born. We share just about everything with each other. But he wouldn't hurt a woman that way. There's consensual rough sex, and then there's forced . . . rape. He's always been violent toward anyone who would do that to someone." He clears his throat and squats so my downcast eyes can meet his, then places a hand on mine that rests on my lap. "My sister, his mother, was in an abusive relationship."

I hold my breath and wait.

He squeezes my hand. "Gabe wouldn't do whatever River implied. I trust one hundred percent that he wouldn't. To make a woman bleed—when she's not on her period—no. He wouldn't. He hated how Veronica lived and wouldn't adopt that behavior. In fact, he was the reason his mother escaped the awful relationship she was in. He tried so hard to protect her. He wouldn't do that to anyone."

"Veronica is his mother's name?"

Nodding, he snags a tissue and reaches up to dab my cheeks. "I know he hasn't told you about her or his past before moving here. That doesn't make him abusive or a rapist. It doesn't make him a liar—he's just taking his time because he has trust issues, too. Let him talk to you before you do anything rash." He puts the tissue in my hand. "Can you do that?"

"He'll get angry if I ask him. He promised me last week that he did nothing more with Heather than kiss her. He'll be so angry that I even doubted him." I press the tissue under my nose because I feel snot trying to build. Gross.

Mr. Juarez sighs, rubbing my cold hands. "He might be hurt, but you have to talk to him. I don't blame you for doubting him—it's hard to trust someone, and he basically asked you to trust him right at the beginning of your relationship when you had very little reason to. But think about everything he has done since the moment you got hurt. He went all in on you the second he saw your pretty face bruised up. He would've laid out anything he felt he did wrong, which for him was kissing her at all while you could see."

The door bangs open, and I yelp, turning and falling onto Mr. Juarez.

Gabe's glare is the scariest thing I've seen from another person, but he shifts it away from me immediately, notices Becca, and then fixes his attention on his uncle. "What the fuck is going on?"

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