37. Julian
JULIAN
M y heart fucking aches. I tried to get out of the car to get to her, but Russ reminded me that that would put her in more danger.
So I sat here like a fucking schmuck while they rescued her. And now she’s here with me, and the ache is real. These last few weeks have been fucking torture. And if she hadn’t gone back to campus today, I would have continued not contacting her. And I would have been a fucking miserable shell of a man like I have been.
“Sawyer,” I say, and her eyes grow wide. She looks scared. She looks confused. And we stare at each other for a moment before she bursts into tears. I lunge for her, pulling her into me and holding her tight. She tries to push me off for a second, but then she resigns, going limp against me as I cradle her.
“Shh,” I tell her. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”
Finally, she composes herself, then she pushes away.
“What the fuck is going on?” she finally says.
I take in a long breath.
“Sawyer, I…”
“No. I want to get out,” she says. “Russ, pull over, please.”
“Sawyer, we’re not?—”
“Pull over, Russ. I want to get out,” she says.
He looks at me through the rearview mirror, and I nod. He drives another minute or two until we get to a little park and pulls in. He parks, and then he and Tyler get out to give us privacy.
“Can we talk before you get out?” I ask her. “Please, Sawyer. Let me explain.”
She scoots as far away from me as possible, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
“Speak,” she says. “Please, explain why you tell me you’re in love with me one day and completely abandon me the next.”
I swallow.
Abandon.
That’s what I did.
It had to be done, but it doesn’t mean it was anything less than abandonment. And I hate myself for it. I pause for a minute, and it enrages her all over again.
“Speak, Julian, or I’m getting out now. Tell me what was so important that you couldn’t tell me. Tell me what made you spend fucking Christmas with my mother then leave me. God, you know what? I can’t fucking believe how dumb I was. Angelina was right.”
My eyes narrow.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say. “Angelina was right about what?”
“At your dad’s party,” she says. “She told me we were just stops along the way for you. That our time with the Everett family wouldn’t be long. And she was fucking right, wasn’t she? God dammit. You know, I really have no one to blame but myself. You know the craziest part? You didn’t even have the decency to check in when the news broke. You just left me.”
I swallow.
God, I want to hold her.
“Sawyer,” I say, “Everett Enterprises…we’re in trouble.”
She stares at me, wide-eyed, her jaw tight.
“What…what does that mean?”
I sigh.
“I’ll tell you everything, but can we please go home first? Please. Just give me a chance to explain. I know I hurt you. I know I left you. You have every right to be upset. But please believe me when I tell you that I thought it was the only way to save you from something much worse. Please.”
We sit in silence for a moment, then she finally nods.
“Okay.”
A little while later, we’re back in the penthouse, and I lead her into my study.
She sits down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, and I pull up my email.
“The day I got back from Seattle, I got this email in my inbox,” I say, turning the monitor around to her.
I watch as she reads it, her eyes growing wider with each sentence.
Mr. Everett,
Enclosed please find a detailed statement from a source who says that she was employed by your father from 2021-2023 and was repeatedly sexually harassed. The source also claims that there are multiple additional victims and that they are also willing to make statements. I would like to meet with you to discuss these claims. Kindly respond by the end of the week. Otherwise, I will have to go to print with the information I have.
Thank you,
Wren Wright
Business & News Managing Editor
Manhattan Times