Kian, Page 27

  challenge, as her eyes centered only on me. “Her name is Jordan.”

  Oh, boy. My hand pressed against my side, trying to calm myself down.

  It wouldn’t work though. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. They were angry. They were hurt. And they had every reason to be.

  “I’m sorry.” I looked each one of them in the eyes—Erica, Wanker, Jake, and back to Erica again. “I have never trusted one person in my life. Ever. The people who I should’ve…well, my foster father tried to kill me, and my foster mother let it happen.” I pointed to Kian. “He is the one person who protected me. And he’s done it over and over again. I lied to you all because I had no idea if I could go against everything I’d been taught in my life, and that was not to trust anyone.” I moved closer to Erica. I was within arm’s length now. “I am sorry if I hurt you. I really am.”

  She was wavering. I saw it in her eyes. A softness was entering there. Her arms fell from her chest, and her head went back down, but she didn’t say anything. She was still so silent.

  Maybe this was a mistake?

  Since waking up, I knew I had to try, but maybe my lies were too much to overcome. I glanced at Kian, and I started to go toward him.

  Erica said, stopping me, “Okay, okay. We really don’t have much to be pissed about.”

  My eyes widened. A weight lifted from my chest. “Are you su—”

  Jake muttered, “Fuck this.” He went for the door, shaking his head. His shoulders were tight in anger.

  As he reached for the door handle, Erica called after him, “You can’t say a word, Jake!”

  He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “I won’t, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay here and listen to this bullshit either.” Yanking the door open, he threw over his shoulder, “Your secret’s safe. I won’t tell a soul you’re here.” He was gone then, and the door closed behind him.

  Erica flicked her hand at him in a dismissive manner. She rolled her eyes, saying, “His ego is bruised. Seriously, like he’s got a leg to stand on. He was with you when he got back with his ex-girlfriend, and you two only started hanging out again. The way I see it, the only person who can be upset is me.”

  Wanker cleared his throat.

  She said to him, “She’s my roommate and friend.”

  He folded his hands together and looked down at them, but his soft voice sounded. “She’s my friend, too.”

  My heart melted then.

  This was Wanker—the Wanker who had always been there; the Wanker who, if we’d ever needed anything, he would be there in a heartbeat; the Wanker who had loved Erica for two years and never said a word, never got upset when she picked another guy over and over again; and the same guy who would always be there for her, no matter who she picked.

  Erica was very lucky to have Wanker in her life, and glancing at her now, I saw the softening on her face.

  He took his glasses off, cleaned them with the bottom of his shirt, and put them back on. A rueful nod came my way, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Thank you for coming back, Jo. Even if she doesn’t say it, Erica’s glad, too.”

  “Thank you, Wanker.”

  Kian was watching the exchange, and I found his gaze now, but he was focused on Wanker. I was surprised. Instead of the normal reserved and walled-up expression that I thought he’d have, his eyes were narrowed slightly, and his head was inclined forward. He was curious about Wanker. When he turned to me, a look of approval flashed over his features, and he gave me the slightest of grins. Kian liked Wanker.

  I liked knowing that. I wanted him to like my friends, and thinking of that, I still owed Erica the explanation of all explanations.

  I asked Kian, “What time is Laura coming?”

  Erica frowned. “The publicist, Laura?”

  Kian answered me, “She’s here. She texted. She’s at the hotel, waiting for me.”

  Me.

  Not us.

  I didn’t think he meant to say that or maybe I was being sensitive, but I remembered Snark’s words. “They’re his team, not yours. You are not their client.” He was right.

  Laura was Kian’s publicist, not mine.

  “Well,” Erica said as soon as the door closed behind Kian, “he was hella hot for the interview before, but seeing him up close and personal and when he looked at you”—she pretended to fan herself—“a volcano would’ve melted itself. The chemistry between you two is hot.”

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop from grinning. Erica was adamant that the media didn’t know I was there. They knew I hadn’t been earlier. The rumor was that I was holed up somewhere with Kian, so they were hoping for a lucky break. The plan was that I would stay and hide. Kian slipped out because that was what he did, and he was going to meet with his team. We’d connect later during the day with a better plan of how to handle my life being upended.

  I sat down at the kitchen table as Erica started the coffee.

  “I know there’s a lot of stuff being said in the news, but what’s the real scoop?” she asked.

  I held my tongue, unsure of what all to say.

  When she heard silence, she glanced back at me. “I’m asking as a friend. I won’t share any of this to anyone. I promise, Jo…rdan.”

  Wanker pulled out a chair and plopped down. Raking a hand through his hair, he let it fall to the table with a thud. “She’s Jo. We met her as Jo, and she’s still Jo to us.” His head bobbed my way. “We’ll call her whatever she wants to be called.”

  Both of them were quiet now, waiting for my choice.

  It took me a moment to process this.

  Jordan or Jo?

  For so long, I’d been forced to be Jo. For so long, Jordan was met with scorn and judgment. There was none from either of them. My throat closed up as I choked out, “You can call me Jordan again.”

  “Jordan, it is.” Erica finished the coffee and took the third chair at the table. She looked from Wanker to me and nodded to herself. “This feels right, the three of us together again.”

  And…cue a litany of apologies and explanations.

  I started, “Erica, I am so, so sorry—”

  She held up her hand. “Look, I wasn’t born yesterday. I watched the case in high school. You were crucified back then. It was like you killed your foster father, not that deliciously hot mysterious guy who just left here. I get it. I do. I was just”—she lifted a shoulder in a shrug—“hurt that I didn’t know. And can I say, kudos for a dramatic exit from the party? That had everyone spinning. I mean, Kian came in and saved you again.” She pretended to fan herself once more. “If I had one romantic bone in my body, I’d be swooning.”

  Wanker’s eyebrows pinched forward together. “Yeah.” He frowned across the table at her.

  I bit down on my lip. Making things right with Erica was the first goal, but after that, I was clueless. For the first time in a long time, I had no idea where to turn to or run, if I should even run.

  Clearing his throat, Wanker asked quietly, “What’s going to happen now, Jo…rdan?”

  A slight chuckle left me, bouncing my shoulders up and down. It’d be a while before my given name would become normal to them, but that was the least of the changes I’d be getting accustomed to now. I let out a sigh and fell back against the chair, gazing around the table.

  Wanker was concerned. Erica looked troubled as she was biting down on one of her nails.

  I shook my head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Erica’s hand fell from her mouth. She suddenly jerked forward in her seat, her elbows landing on the table, as the coffee pot was spouting behind her. It was almost done with the first pot. “What exactly is the problem? I mean, I get it. You were hiding from the media—”

  I interjected, “And the nation.”

  She kept going, waving a hand to me, “And the nation. I get that. But people can’t blame you anymore. Kian is out. He got out early, and they’re not prosecuting him anymore, so that means you’re in the clear, too.” Her head moved
back and forth from Wanker to myself. “Right?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “The public isn’t forgiving. They blamed her when the case unfolded. From the reports we caught earlier, it sounded like it was going in the same direction.”

  Snark said I’d be blamed as a distraction from Kian’s retrial, but that wasn’t going to happen. He said the police weren’t searching for me anymore either. Those worries were done and put away. There was one big one though. Wanker had hit it on the head, the public.

  “I might get kicked out of school.”

  “No way.” Erica frowned. “They can’t do that. You were a victim three years ago. And you had to go to school while the case was in trial, too. They can’t kick you out for being a victim.”

  Victim. I winced at that word. “I’ll probably lose my job.”

  She started to protest.

  Wanker stopped her. “She’ll cause a disruption if she works there. They could fire her for that. I don’t know about school, but I’d imagine they could kick her out. A trumped-up reason is all they need, and I’ve no doubt the administration could find one to justify their actions.”

  No school. No job. What would I have then?

  These guys. That’s what.

  And Kian, a voice said in my head.

  But would I?

  We’d been together. He saved me over and over again, but Snark’s words were in my head, too.

  Did Kian’s team have anything to do with the note going public? It led to my discovery.

  No.

  I shut that down.

  I couldn’t go there.

  “The public hates her,” Erica said. The sputtering from the coffee pot died. “Let’s change their minds.”

  My head started to fall down, my hands folded together in my lap, but I looked up. Her eyes were clear and bright, determined.

  She gazed at me to Wanker and back again. “What do you think?” Her voice was almost upbeat.

  Wanker frowned, taking his glasses off. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” She searched for the words. “We do a live interview. Yeah, it could work. Susan got in touch with the local news station when we did that interview and when she was shopping it around. They wanted to buy it. My email was attached on a bunch of those group messages. I know one of the camera guys. We’ve hung out at the Wine Cellar together. He’d help us, or he’d get us in touch with who could help us.”

  “You mean, you’d do the live interview?” Wanker’s elbow was propped on the table, and he pointed his glasses from Erica to me. “You would interview Jo…rdan?”

  Her head bobbed up and down. “Yeah.” As the idea grew, so did her excitement. Her eyes were brimming with it. “And we’d go live, so nothing could be edited out. This is a great idea, you guys.” She clapped her hands together and extended them to us. “Why aren’t you more excited? This could change everyone’s opinion of Jo—Jordan. She’s never spoken out before.”

  “I wasn’t allowed to.” I’d been advised against it.

  “But you’re not a kid anymore. You’re of legal age. We should do it. This could take care of everything, if your side is out there. No fires will be started, and no one can twist your words if they’re already out there.” She scooted back her chair. “I think it’s the only option, or Jordan’s going to have to live in fear again.” She stood to get some coffee.

  I could already hear Snark in my head, telling me not to do it. And Kian’s team…they’d protect him first. I doubted they would want me to say anything. I didn’t know what Kian would say, and a side of me didn’t want to ask. I should. He deserved the chance to voice his opinion, but in that moment, I was tired.

  All the years of hiding.

  All the years of being scared.

  All the years of holding my tongue.

  Erica was right. I’d never been allowed to speak out before. I felt hushed, by both sides of the case, by the social worker, by the police, by everyone. I was tired of keeping quiet. I was tired of listening to everyone else, and right then, right there, my decision was made.

  I looked at Erica. Bringing a poured cup of coffee to the table and halfway bending down to sit on the chair, she paused. She held still in the air, her hand a few inches from the table.

  Before I said a word, she read my decision. A wide grin appeared on her face. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I said to both of them, “I want to do it.”

  Erica dropped the coffee cup on the table, letting the liquid spill out, but she didn’t care. She thrust a fist in the air. “Yes!”

  Wanker only frowned. He only slowly put his glasses back on, sliding them up his nose.

  I felt good about this. I was doing the right thing…right?

  Erica wanted to move as fast as possible. The media was already going full steam about me, and more and more reporters would be arriving throughout the day. The storm was going to triple, but she didn’t need to tell me that.

  I already lived through that nightmare.

  After she emailed the camera guy, he gave us a time and location to meet. Everything was being set up on his end. He would be bringing along a news reporter, but she swore to secrecy, and it was someone Erica trusted. If Erica was okay with the person’s presence, I was, too. I was giving her all my trust.

  As we were getting ready to leave the apartment, I checked my phone for the fifth time in the last few hours.

  No call or message from Kian.

  I wasn’t sure if that was good or not, but I was still going to do this. I was done hiding. I was done doing what others wanted. Telling my side, this was what I wanted to do. It was what I had to do. It was my way of fighting for my life again, or at least trying.

  An hour later, Erica’s phone buzzed with a text. The other reporter and camera guy were sending a car, but the same instant she read those words to us, a commotion sounded from the street. It had been building the longer we sat inside, but I was ignoring it. I didn’t want to think what it meant.

  When a police siren ripped through the air, I knew it was happening all over again.

  I was back there in the police station as they carted Edmund’s body off. Kian was being questioned in a separate room, and I was taken back to the hospital for more tests.

  A detective opened the door, and they were all there—media and people from the town. I felt their hate. I felt it instantly.

  “Kian Maston is a good boy!” someone yelled at me. “Why did you ruin his life?”

  “Were you sleeping with both of them?”

  “God’s not going to save you. You’re going to hell.”

  “You’re the murderer!”

  Once Kian’s name and face had been released to the press, my life had ceased to be.

  Hearing that siren, I knew why they were there, and I went numb. I turned it all off.

  Wanker went to the patio and peeked out. He frowned back to us. “It’s completely packed. There are two cop cars downstairs—”

  The apartment intercom buzzed.

  Wanker stopped, turning to it. “Well…” His hand rose to take his glasses off, and his other hand raked through his hair.

  He didn’t say anything else.

  Erica glanced sharply to me. “What do I do?”

  Everything was dull for me, but I answered, “Let ’em in.”

  They knew I was there.

  Snark texted earlier, asking if I went back to my old apartment. I was right. The word was out, and I replied with a, Yes.

  His next text came.