“What kind of trouble?” he asked. Interested. Concerned. He reached past the photos to put his hand on mine. This was the Trey I knew. I said I had trouble, and he instantly wanted to fix it for me.

“I think Spence is holding her arms. Holding her down. And your hand is . . . Trey, she sees the camera.” His eyebrows were going up. He still didn’t look back at the picture, though. He kept his eyes on me. He kept his hand on my hand. I said, “I love you. And I know you. You can tell me what happened.”

“I did tell you,” he said, calm and even. “I don’t particularly remember Spence grabbing her arms, but I also don’t remember who all grabbed what and when.” He smiled, a wry sad smile, shaking his head. “You can’t see her hands, or Spencer’s anyway.” He said all this without once looking back down at the photo. That he had barely glanced at. That he had never seen before.

“I can see your hand.” He kept eye contact, but he stopped touching me, folding his arms over his chest. His eyebrows went up, interested, faintly puzzled. I said, “Your hand is over her mouth.”

“Okay. But, Bree, the camera catches a fraction of a second. So my hand was on her face. For that tiny captured moment at least. What are you saying?”

I swallowed. “I’m saying I want you to look at it. Really look.”

“Okay,” he said, a small impatience in his tone now. He glanced at the shot again, and then he shook his head. When he looked back to me, I saw a little anger in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s awful. They’re all awful. But we were high. And drunk. Maybe she was being loud. Or my hand landed there accidentally. Maybe she was kissing it. It’s a fraction of a fraction of a second, Bree.”

I didn’t like the irritated way he said my name. “I know, but, sweetheart, no matter how many times I looked at it, no matter the angle, I see a fraction of a second of a rape.”

It was the first time I’d said the word. It was like a small electric shock inside my mouth. He must have felt it, too. He stood up, rising so fast that I flinched. I never would have thought any move my husband made could cause me to flinch. Never in a thousand years.

“I told you what happened,” he said. “Everything, exactly as I remember it.”