Chapter XXIII Ruff Days （Lena）
XXIII
Ruff Days
(Lena)
I should’ve known this curse was coming.
I should’ve known.
Yet somehow, I’m standing there with the biggest shock of my life flashing before my eyes, my worst fears materializing like a hallucination.
The night is dark as August’s private jet cuts through the sky back to Seattle, delivering me to my doom.
Even though Elle told me to put my phone away, I refresh X again, watching the social media carnage unfold.
People from all sides come for Brady, knives out and gleaming, laughing or celebrating the comeuppance of another rich guy they resent only because they’ll never have his success.
Every post by Pruitt Brands turns into a dumpster fire.
Tabloids spinning more rumors, more lies, oh God, asking if I’m still sleeping with a predator who violated me, who tore my soul apart.
A few people are sympathetic, sure. They know it’s revenge porn, but it doesn’t help.
Predictably, eighty percent of the internet is absolutely vile.
Apparently, I deserve this and more for being “a boat hoe.”
Apparently, Brady could’ve done a thousand times better than a “vet slut.”
Apparently, it’s my fault for existing and trusting a man not to be wretched.
The insults fly around my head like shattered glass, finding sharp new places to lodge and cut me deeper.
Whore. Slut. Disgusting bitch.
The list goes on for miles.
The worst part is, they’re the same horrors I imagined after Harry exposed his dirty clips the first time.
It took time and a little therapy to reframe the incident as him taking advantage of me. To see myself as a victim.
Now, as the biting hell from strangers stabs me in the face, I can feel all that therapy work unraveling.
Because this shit show right here?
This feels like my fault.
Elle stirs and turns over. I watch her turning over on the long lounge seat across from me.
I never thought I could be this sad on a private jet, but here we are.
When she realized what was happening, she sprang into action, of course. Thank God.
Once I made up my mind about going home, she had the jet summoned.
She has a publicist now, and she’s offering their help, too, advising me what to do when I return—because I’m done running.
Running isn’t possible after you’ve had one leg gnawed by a wolf.
I just wish some of her solutions didn’t involve felony charges.
My days as a free woman are almost over after I murder Harry Jay for ruining my life a second time around.
Realistically, I’ll weather it like I’ve handled everything else in life, riding out the storm and waiting for it to die down. But first, I need to give Brady an explanation.
He deserves to know why I ran off and left behind this steaming pile of scandal.
He needs to know I just wanted to protect him. Even if I’ve completely lost the plot.
If only he’d answer his phone . . .
I scroll through every social platform we’ve ever connected on, seeing when he was last online. The fact that he’s not responding can’t mean anything good.
Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to speak to me again.
Hell, I wouldn’t want to speak to me either.
But I have to explain. I have to do whatever I can to set things right.
Elle stirs and blinks just as Seattle’s lights start gleaming below us through the clouds.
“How are you?”
I say nothing. My obvious pain shouldn’t tarnish her kindness.
“I can come with you,” she offers, but her face is tight, uncomfortable looking. God, I’m probably giving her another migraine, and that makes me feel worse.
I force a smile.
“It’s cool, Elle. It’s going to be busy, wasting away in lawyers’ offices and putting out fires. You’re better off at home with August.”
Her face softens at the sound of his name, but she frowns.
“He can deal with a little alone time if you need me.”
Of course I need her.
I need everyone in my corner I can get.
But I also need to handle this alone.
This is still my problem. My responsibility. My disaster.
“It’s fine. Seriously, get home to hubby. I’ll call if I need anything else.”
She leans across to hug me as the plane drops lower for landing. “I’ll come right away. You know it.”
“For sure. But anything I need can be done over the phone. It’s probably best if you pretend you don’t know me for a little while. I’d hate for any of this to rub off on you or Little Key and your books.”
She thunks me on the head. Lightly.
“Very funny. You know I’ll go to bat for you every chance I get. This isn’t your fault, Lena Joly. None of it. Brady knew about this whole thing with Harry.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter now—”
“You didn’t know he still had that crap.”
The way she says crap makes me squirm.
The thought that even after all these years, Harry had it stored somewhere, and why? Was he waiting for a day when he could burn me to ashes if we ever crossed paths again?
“He’s fucking disgusting,” I spit.
“We hate him! And I’ll never be ashamed to be your friend. The only one who should feel any shame at all is that pig. How can people be so stupid?”
“No one knows he leaked them deliberately,” I say dully. “Only we know. And Brady, too, maybe.”
“Lena, for the last time—it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter what other people say.” She eyes me sternly. “Have you been looking at shitty comments online again?”
“Hard not to when you have huge crowds of people yakking about your life.”
“I know,” she says gently. “The peanut gallery sucks, and being caught in it over something like this? Horrible. But he’s not going to get away with this, girl. Over my dead body.”
She looks fierce enough to make me believe it.
“I’d rather it was over his,” I say.
“That’s the spirit. How should we torture him first?”
Laughing bitterly, we hit the runway with a bump. I square my shoulders, drawing a deep breath.
Home, sweet home.
Truthfully, I don’t know how I’m going to survive this, but I will.
Elle watches me with sympathy, and she knows better than to break into a big teary-eyed pep talk.
“You’re going to get through this, boss lady. Spine of steel,” she whispers as she hugs me again. “Are you sure you don’t want that list of lawyers from Gruffykins? He’ll put you in touch ASAP. Give your name, and they’ll make room for you.”
Ugh, don’t remind me.
This is my first foray into the legal swamp, and it’s plunging into the deep end. But I nod like it’s not overwhelming to save face.
“I’ll figure something out, Elle. Love you,” I say as the plane rolls to a stop.
“You’re sure you don’t want to ride with me?”
“I’d better get home,” I tell her. “It’s just a short walk and an Uber ride. I’ll call you later.”
“Well, okay. Don’t do anything illegal, babe.”
With a rough laugh, I stand and shoulder my bag. We head for the exit, where a lady in uniform smiles at me. The flight attendants are almost invisible on these private flights unless you need them.
I wonder if she noticed me trying not to melt down for the entire two-hour flight back to Washington.
“Love you too,” Elle calls, staying in place as I exit the luxurious plane.
Back into the real world.
A light rain mists my face as I walk down the passenger stairs. To my relief, no journalists or cameras are waiting on the tarmac, but I guess that’s the advantage of flying private.
No gaggle of black cars waiting past the building with the tall fence either. At least no one seems to know where I am, although that probably won’t last.
Especially when I need to see Brady.
They’ll assume we’re broken up.
I try to feel like that’s a good thing, but it’s really just another nail through my heart. It makes it harder to focus when I get to the parking lot and try to hail a ride with the app.
Despite the fact that I didn’t ask, August texts me a brief list of lawyers’ names. Take a look at your convenience. Let me know which one you prefer and I’ll call.
That hits different.
For a man as outwardly grouchy as August—Elle is like the only one who can make that beast smile—he sure has a kind heart.
Mental note: Thank him properly later. Elle too.
They’ve been talking about getting a puppy, and you can hook them up.
I scroll through the list, idly flicking through a few of their websites. All of them seem comically overqualified for this, with their Ivy League degrees and impressive records unraveling real cases, but I guess that’s the benefit of having rich friends.
Right now, even though I hate, hate, hate the thought of August and Elle spending money on me, I know I’ll need a good lawyer or three to put Harry Jay down. Ideally, before I do something really illegal, after all.
Sorry, Elle.
If that means swallowing my pride, I will.
This isn’t about me, judging by those articles that told me how many people he’s screwed over. I have to do my part to make sure he never gets another chance to hurt anyone ever again.
And if it clears my name while I’m at it, cool. As Mom would say, if wishes were fishes, we’d be eating for a month.
More than anything, I need to be realistic.
I need to fight.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call, and for a second, my heart leaps.
Brady?
Then I remember what that number is, and my heart sinks to my knees.
. . . Luis?
Obviously, there’s no beef with the assistant. He’s a swell guy and a decent friend to Brady, who doesn’t seem to have a lot of them despite his ginormous social circle. Even if he’s cashing checks from his boss, he cares.
Still, if it’s Luis calling, things are not good.
If Brady wanted to see me to sort things out, he’d call me himself, wouldn’t he?
Sending Luis just adds another layer of distance.
Distance I insisted on the minute I ran.
Believe me, I know. The broken heart pieces rattling around my chest like heavy ceramic are a constant reminder.
“Luis? Hi, what’s going on?” I answer the phone with shaky fingers and my breath stalled in my lungs.
“Miss Joly.” He sounds the same as always, cool and polite, except—maybe a little frazzled?
I shouldn’t be surprised, considering the crisis.
“How are you?” he asks, which is too kind, considering he can guess.
“I’m—” A lie dies on my lips. No point trying to deceive him. “I’m still hanging in there.”
“That bad, huh?” There’s a softness in his voice now.
Empathy I don’t deserve.
“I mean, it’s not good. But you knew that.” My laugh sounds feeble. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me it can always be worse.” I cringe at my own phrasing. “But how—how is he?”
“Why don’t you come and see?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “I’ve sent Corbin to the airport to pick you up. He should be waiting now.”
I blink in surprise. That was fast.
“I’m here, standing on the curb.”
“Yes, I know. He’ll take you to Brady’s, if you’ll graciously accept.”
My blood freezes over.
“Um, okay,” I say slowly. My heart hammers in my chest. “What for? Is everything okay?”
“Brady’s been working on the situation,” Luis assures me with what sounds like a huge understatement.
“I’m sure he has,” I say slowly.
“He’d be grateful for your presence tonight, if you can make it. It’s very important.”
Oh boy.
I’m sure whatever he’s got planned will be super fun. Not at all like being dragged over a frying pan.
“Corbin’s waiting. Black Escalade,” Luis says gently. “Can you wave to him when you’re ready? No hurry, take all the time you need.”
I swallow thickly, trying to suppress the fear gurgling up from the pit of my stomach.
But I wanted a conversation, didn’t I? And now Brady wants to make that happen with zero inconvenience besides my own mangled heart.
Whatever.
Deep breath.
“All right,” I say as I finally look at the black SUV in the lot and hold up my hand. “Anything you need. Anything Brady needs. I’m ready.”
“Thanks, Lena. We appreciate you.” Luis blows out a long breath that doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation. Almost like he’s relieved.
Also, we?
He can’t just say Brady?
That knot in my belly hardens into rock.
I know I’m reading into this too much. I feel like I’ve been dropped into a trashy reality show with some sinister surprise waiting, but I can’t stop.
I have to make this right.
The sooner I see Brady, the faster I stop plummeting to the bottom.
“See you soon,” I say numbly, ending the call.
I just hope there’s some privacy when I can finally talk to Brady.
By the time I blink, my phone’s flashing with the call disconnected and that big black SUV is waiting in front of me.
Corbin steps out to grab my suitcase and open the door, kindly waiting like I’m Cinderella, ready to spirit me away to my moody, doomed prince.