Chapter 13
Thrifting
Fenella
Alan and I sit at a picnic table under a tree stripped bare by winter. The wood is cold even through my jeans, and my breath fogs in front of me as I speak.
“That was insane. I’ve never seen those ladies go off like that,” I say, shaking my head.
“Luckily, it all worked out. All you need is a magic megaphone.” Alan grins, brushing snowflakes off his jacket like nothing happened.
“Ugh, you started it, though. If you hadn’t come up with that stupid idea out of nowhere, they wouldn’t have gone so wild.” I groan and almost kick his leg under the table. He winces as he dodges my leg, clutching his calf.
“Hey, I was just trying to do something nice, Fenella. What’s wrong with donating and doing something good for those old ladies?”
“You should’ve looked at the situation first. You always do this, start something messy, then act like the hero.” I glare at him. “Was that also your evil plan with the ad? Were you planning to be the hero saving the scandal?”
“Come on, there was no evil plan. It’s my job to fix it. If not me, then who?” He shrugs with a half-laugh that sends a puff of white mist into the air.
“I don’t know. That young PR genius you and Mallory hired to make everything look spotless again? Damn. Must be nice to have all that money.” I scoff and look away from his face.
“His name is Adrian Lee, and he’s working to save us all. You don’t have to worry about it. If only you’d come and talk to work this out together.” He widens his eyes with excitement, making me almost believe him.
“I hate you,” I mutter, folding my arms.
We sit in silence for a while. The wind stings my cheeks, and laughter drifts from my mom’s tent, sharp and loud against the quiet snow.
I shouldn’t even be near him, but he’s hurt, and I can’t just walk away.
His pants are rolled up to his knees and still damp from the spilled eggnog.
Thank God his scream cut through the chaos like thunder, snapping everyone out of it. He saved me.
“Thanks, Alan.” I glance at him, still frowning. “Or should I call you Clark?”
He looks at me for a long time, eyes softer now, breath spilling in slow white clouds. “It’s been a long time since anyone called me that,” he mumbles, his gaze heavy with something that screams sadness.
Oh no. Why is he getting sentimental now, of all times? I sigh, the cold air biting my lips. I’m still mad about everything he pulled with me and Laird, but after what happened, I can’t stay angry at him. He’s always been the best at showing off his so-called sacrifices.
“How’d you even know I was here?”
“I asked your neighbor. Don’t tell me you forgot your mom’s address is listed as your emergency contact in the talent file,” he says, his tone half amused.
I pout, not ready to admit he’s smart enough to find me that way. He’s like a fox, too clever for his own good. “Can you at least keep Jessy with Gene instead of throwing him away?” I ask, watching my breath fog up between us.
Alan exhales slowly, moving his hands off his leg. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the frozen table, his posture uneven with one leg stretched out.
“As long as you don’t toss us into your trash first,” he says with a grin.
I gape at him, then huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “How could I not, when you dug the hole yourself and made me fall into it too?”
“Pretty sure it’s the other way around. I built the staircase, but you’re the one who kicked it down.” He shrugs again, his breath curling in the air like smoke.
“Yeah, yeah, Alan. I know you’ve been throwing projects my way. Even Mike said yesterday I’ve been stealing too many. Was that you?” I narrow my eyes, and he falls silent.
I roll my eyes, already knowing the answer. He doesn’t have to say a word. His silence is proof enough.
“How could you do that to them? They’re all my friends.”
“I didn’t steal anything from anyone. Just listen to me.” He shakes his head, denying it.
“Have you even seen the comments on my socials? People call me a thief. An arrogant bitch who’d do anything to get ahead.” My voice cracks as I cut him off.
“And I did all that for you. I want to see you succeed and live your dream. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“But I want to do it the right way.” Tears roll down my cheeks. “People hate me, Clark. Even Laird hates me.”
I cry harder, my chest tight, my nose running, my whole body trembling as if I’m falling apart. I wipe my cheeks with both hands. Alan reaches out to touch me, but I slap his hand away.
“Don’t touch me.” My voice drips with venom.
He drops his hand, eyes cast down. What? He feels guilty now? Oh, no way.
I grab my phone, turn the network back on, and shove it toward him. The screen lights up and continues to buzz with notifications.
“You see? My career’s trashed, all thanks to you.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “Laird hates me, my fans left me, and Mallory, who called herself my best friend—where the hell is she now? You should be thankful my mom didn’t see that ad and still took your money.”
I wait while Alan scrolls through the flood of hateful comments. He exhales sharply and hands the phone back.
“I’m sorry, Fenella. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice drops, his posture slumps the way Clark used to when he got rejected.
“Then what? You trying to get back at me for rejecting you before?” I say, my patience fading fast.
“No. It’s not like that.” His face tightens, guilt written all over it.
Damn, he’s good. If this is acting, he’s got the part nailed. The pity that creeps up in my chest only pisses me off more. I take a deep breath and remind myself not to cause another public meltdown. The group of gossiping moms nearby already gave us enough attention.
“Alright, start talking. Don’t leave out a single thing, or I’ll walk out and leave you here.”
“I’ll tell you everything. No lies,” he says quietly with a firm stare.
No matter how many times he says that, I don’t buy it. Any other woman sitting here would. He’s too good-looking. Those dark eyes, that stubble, the smooth voice that could make anyone forget what he’s done. But not me.
“Are you firing Jessy?”
“I told you, if you don’t quit Gene, he stays,” he says in that maddeningly calm tone.
“Why does Jessy’s job depend on me?” I frown, refusing to accept his logic.
“Because he hasn’t been performing. I tried pairing him with Mike, and they ended up dating. You know that, right? He’s been distracted.” He says it so easily, like he’s practiced the line. “He depends on you more than the other way around. So if you’re not with Gene, I can’t keep him.”
His words slip under my skin, planting doubt where I don’t want it. “But Jessy needs this job. He’s paying for his mom’s treatment.”
“Well, bad luck. Everyone’s got problems. But if you stay, he stays. We can fix all of this together.” His voice softens again, trying to reel me back in.
Part of me knows he’s making sense. The other part knows he’s still hiding something, especially about Amy. I rub my eyebrow and stare him down. The cold wind bit against my skin, suffocating to connect all the dots.
“Are you really Clark Thomson?”
“Yes, that was my name.” He opens his hands like he’s surrendering.
“My chemistry classmate? My dance partner at the year-end dance in tenth grade?”
“Yeah. You must be shocked how much I’ve changed.” His elbows rest on the table as he leans closer, a small smile tugging at his lips.
For a moment, I just stare at him. His hair’s black now, styled and neat, no trace of the red curls. The baby fat’s gone, replaced by sharp angles and muscle. His whole presence is different. He looks sturdy, stronger, more confident—like he owns this world under his palm.
I swallow, trying to process it all. “Why did you do all this?”
He looks straight at me. There’s a pause, long enough to make my heartbeat loud in my ears. His lips part like he’s about to say something else but hesitates.
“I love you, Fenella.”
My mouth falls open. “Shut up.”
He nods, calm as ever. My heart skips a beat before I can stop it. My brain blanks out for a second. I almost laugh, but end up scoffing instead. “You can’t possibly still like me. You’ve changed so much you could literally date anyone, even Mallory. Why me?”
“Why not?” He chuckles. “You still liked Laird for seven years after he dumped you. Even after you became a model who could have anyone. So why can’t I?”
“He’s different,” I whisper. “We love each other.”
“No. I love you more. I’d do anything for you.”
“Well, we grew up together. He came first.” My voice rises.
“Love doesn’t care who came first.” He shakes his head, stubborn like a kid arguing with fate.
I blink and look away, overwhelmed. His persistence is unreal, the confidence almost blinding. Is this how it feels like for Laird when I used to chase him?
Did Alan really mean it, or is he just trying to get back at me, to make me fall and then crush me the way I once did to him? Karma’s a bitch. My pulse races, my hands trembling inside my jacket pockets.
“So you didn’t do all this to ruin me? Not because Amy told you to? Not to mess with me?”
“No. Amy’s been the one messing with me all along.” He shakes his head slowly, no hesitation.
“You two are siblings? That’s bullshit. You barely knew her until high school. I introduced you myself.”
“Yeah. That was the first time I met her. But not long after that, my mom started seeing her dad.” His voice trembles. There’s something soft and sad in his eyes that makes me stop breathing for a second.
“We’re stepsiblings.”