Hank looked awful. When he walked through the door, Bree felt horrible for being the one to make him look that way. Technically, it was his own fault. He was the one who’d slept with his best friend’s woman. But Bree was the one who’d told Trent about it.
It had taken her several minutes to convince him to come to the rehearsal. He’d said he couldn’t face Trent, not at the moment. But Bree had finally talked him into it, reminding him, if she could do it, so could he.
She saw the exchange between the two of them, the small wave and the relaxation in Hank’s shoulders as he realized Trent wasn’t about to murder him in front of everyone. She walked over to Hank and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly into his ear. “I thought it was best for all of us.”
“I’m not mad at you,” he said. “I’m mad at myself. I never should’ve let this happen.”
