Chapter Thirty-Three ADAM
Chapter Thirty-Three
ADAM
The pad of my finger traces the blurry edge of her face on the screen, like touching her could make things better. The booth is dark, the light low, but I’d recognize her anywhere. That voice. Uneven and heavy with sorrow.
I’ve watched the video hundreds of times already, and every time it cuts a little deeper.
It’s my fault.
Carter told me not to keep secrets. Especially from her.
I wanted solid proof she loved me. I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t end up with a broken heart again.
But it was there.
In the little ways she tried to close the gap. And I missed it. Instead, I had to watch her break apart at the same time as a million others, on my fucking phone.
Her voice burns through my skin, haunting the silence in this room.
“It’s too late.”
The regret punches the air out of me, and I have to force myself not to run to her house.
She hates feeling exposed. Embarrassed. Hates the idea of being pitied. And after what’s happened since yesterday, I know she’s overwhelmed. Between the FBI’s press conference, announcing the arrests, and now the club video blowing up online, she’s likely hanging on by a thread.
And whoever filmed that video and sold it to the press? I’m going to find them. And make their life a living hell.
She didn’t deserve to have her vulnerability and insecurity turned into a public spectacle.
I should’ve never let it get to this point.
I want to know how she’s doing.
Something tells me calling Carter would be a bad idea. Maybe I’m a coward for avoiding that conversation, but it doesn’t feel right talking to him before I clear the air with Jackie.
The curtains over the open French doors dance in the light breeze, bringing in the scent of fall and that nostalgic bite in the air. It fills the living room with memories of long walks along the river and quiet, lazy mornings.
I step out onto the balcony, my feet heavy. The park stretches out beneath me, but I’m somewhere else entirely. Thinking. Feeling. Trying to piece hope together out of the mess we both made.
Sliding my phone out, at first my thumb twitches over her name, but instead, I look for someone I haven’t talked to in a long time.
“I can’t talk right now,” Lilly answers, voice clipped and unexpectedly professional.
“You’re with her?” I ask, leaning into the brick facade, straining my ears for other voices. Hers.
“Yep.”
“Just tell me,” I plead. “Is it bad?”
A pause, then a cryptic answer. “Not for the reasons you’d think.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
There’s rustling on the other end, muffled voices. “Don’t eat the whole box,” Lilly mutters to someone, probably Jackie, over the covered mouthpiece. “You’re gonna be sick.”
A door clicks shut, and her footsteps echo as she moves to another room. “She’s not crashing out, umm…too bad. But she’s angry. And I don’t need my crystals to see a storm’s coming.”
“I don’t want to pile on,” I say quietly.
“Good call. She’s trying to sort through what she can control. You know how she works. Fix it now, spiral later.” Lilly pauses before adding, “It’s going to be OK. Just have a little patience.”
Jackie needs order in her life. Control. Time to box everything up neatly before talking about her emotions.
Meanwhile, everything is building up like a volcano inside me. It bubbles with the pressure of what I’m feeling and the need to verbalize it. I want to talk to her. To stop pretending I’m OK with this distance.
But she deserves her time.
I love her enough to give her today. Tomorrow too.
She’ll go out there and set the record straight. Do what she does best. Fight smart and own every studio she walks into.
The TV in my office has been on since this morning. My Jackie, on every major network, looks unstoppable. Calm, controlled, magnetic. She’s crushing every interview, one after another.
I wish I could be there for her, but she needs me to watch from afar. For now.
“You must be relieved the danger is over,” the anchor says. “Can you tell us more about who these hackers were, and what exactly they wanted?”
Jackie’s voice is smooth and confident. “I can’t go into details before the trial,” she says, “but I want to thank the FBI task force, our security team…and a special person I can’t name for security reasons.”
Then she turns to the camera, and for a second, it feels like she’s looking through the lens, directly into my soul. Warmth spreads through my chest like the spring sun over the frozen Boundary Waters.
The anchor clears his throat, shifting to the next topic. “Inside sources say the Commission will release a statement of support very soon.”
“They have everything they need to feel confident about the vote,” Jackie replies. “So, yes. We look forward to the official decision and to continuing our partnership.”
He nods politely, but he’s a shark. I know that hungry look. “Let’s get it out of the way,” he says. “The video.”
Jackie doesn’t flinch. She stares him down, back straight.
“What does this conduct say about your leadership?”
She gives him a lethal smile. “Fortunately, Jeff, I don’t conduct business from the booth of a bar on a Friday night. My company’s results speak for themselves.”
He blinks. Probably was expecting a teary-eyed public apology. She lets it hang a beat, then tilts her head, poised and razor-sharp.
“What’s the question here? Because I have a suspicion no one would think twice if I were a man, blowing off steam after a long week. But I digress. You were saying.”
Her answer throws him off. “Umm.” He recovers poorly, off balance. “My concern is for the 300,000 people working for you. Their stability, their trust—”
“I see.” She nods like she’s actually considering his point. “Do you happen to know Rawlings Enterprise’s employee turnover rate?”
“Well.” He blinks, blowing off a breath. “I… don’t have those numbers on hand, but…”
“Eight percent. Lowest in the industry for ten straight years. Top-tier salaries. Does it sound like an unstable work environment?”
Jeff has no comeback, and he looks a little gray at the edges.
Jackie leans in, voice steady. “I am human. I might make mistakes. Rarely. But it’s not impossible. What I won’t do is let you turn a private moment into clickbait because you’re too lazy to do your job and report on real issues.”
Then she pauses, before she delivers the final blow. “Like UniCore’s five million users’ data leak.”
The anchor is scrambling through papers, shooting a cry-for-help look to his producers. “Where are you getting this—”
“While we were fending off the largest cyberattack on US soil,” she says, “Mr. Gordon was busy sweeping his problems under the rug. Their servers were breached too. The difference between us is that he folded and paid the ten-million-dollar ransom. With clients’ funds.”
He stammers something, but she steamrolls him. “He covered it up. Didn’t alert authorities. Now, besides the fraud, millions of people risk having their personal data show up on the dark web because UniCore failed to act responsibly.”
The interviewer is rigid, trying to spin it. “We’ll need to verify this…”
“Oh, don’t worry. News of the World has all our findings. Airing them as we speak.”
She slowly unhooks the mic off her jacket. “Pleasure as always, Jeff.”
I’m on the couch, practically yelling at the screen like it’s overtime at the Stanley Cup. “Take the hit, give it back twice as hard, baby!”
Nothing turns me on more than watching Jackie stand her ground. It’s the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
She just torched Gordon’s entire career in real time. The fucker won’t see a government seal on a contract again in his lifetime. I watch, fully hooked, as the cycle repeats for the next few hours, as she nails every interview with the same precision.
By the time Gilda walks in with a tray of food, my cheeks ache from grinning. I’ve already memorized all of Jackie’s little tells. How her lips twitch when someone tries to throw her off. The tiny lift of her chin before cutting off a rude interviewer.
I didn’t think I could get even more obsessed with her.
“Your old friend’s a tough one,” Gilda says, glancing at the TV. “I like her.”
I snatch one of the club sandwiches. “She’s the best,” I say, and yes, I can hear how stupidly proud I sound.
She doesn’t tease me this time, but keeps looking at the TV.
“Ugly business, that video,” she hums. “Can’t imagine what it’s like…having to constantly hide because some parasite might decide to make a few bucks off my worst moments.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “It’s lonely.”
Gilda gives me the same look my mom used to when I was a teenager. The kind meant to nudge me in the right direction without pushing. “She doesn’t have to be.”
But I don’t need someone to show me the way.
“I’ll make sure she isn’t,” I say, still locked on the screen.
And this time, I won’t let her slip through my fingers. With this interview over, I can’t wait any longer.
“Never again.”
Light rain taps on my shoulders, each step to her house sounding like a countdown. To what, only Jackie can decide.
I stop under the wisteria arching above the door of her new brownstone, fingertips pulsing with the rhythm of my anxious heartbeat. The sweet scent of wet earth and fall roses drifts from her garden, grounding me. I’ve waited for this moment far too long. I can’t ruin this.
The door swings open before I can even knock. Jackie stands there, framed by the warm halo of the hallway lamp, and the sight of her knocks the breath from my lungs.
She’s a rumpled vision in leggings and my old crimson and white hockey T-shirt. The one she kept “forgetting” to bring back.
If she thinks she was anything but mine all these years…
“How the hell did security let you past the gate?” Her voice is sharp, but her eyes blink rapidly, throat tightening with a swallow she tries to hide.
I smile at how predictable her reaction is.
“Logan got himself a blank card favor from me.”