Sabrina
We were still laughing when we pulled into the driveway. After a pit stop for some truly life-changing pie, we were back in town and I was halfway through my ten-step plan for Birch Hollow annihilation.
Gabe killed the engine, and with a sigh, he turned to me.
For now, I pushed that “falling in love with you” comment as far back in my mind as I could. There was no time for that. We had far too much to get done.
And I was still figuring this all out. What the connection between us meant. How I’d deal with my thoughts and emotions and what the hell I’d do with my life when this project was done.
“You yelled at them to get fucked out the car window,” he said, holding back laughter.
“Yes. Which was step one. They need to know I’m coming after them. It’s unfair to sick the full Sabrina Monroe experience on them with no notice.”
His eyes glinted as he grinned. “You are so scary, and yet so pretty.”
I rolled my eyes and reached for the door handle.
My phone buzzed, stopping me. Harper’s name appeared on the screen, so I answered and put it on speaker.
“I have so much to tell you—”
“Not now.” Her voice was far more serious than any teenager’s had the right to be.
“You okay?” I asked, unease rolling through me.
“Your name is trending.” Her voice shook. “Something about Eastgate, federal violations, whistleblowing. and thyroid cancer?”
My vision blurred.
“Send everything,” I instructed softly. “Does Meg know?”
“Yes,” she said.
My phone buzzed. And then buzzed again.
She was forwarding me notifications, and they were stacking up faster than I could read them. Mentions, links, screenshots.
Gabe leaned closer, intent on the phone.
Disgraced DC Fixer Resurfaces in Vermont Town.
Aw, fuck. That nausea threatened to turn into more.
There I was, on the screen. An old photo. All-black suit, hair slicked back. Sharp and in control.
Sabrina Monroe, former DC fixer turned whistleblower, has resurfaced as an economic adviser to a small Vermont town.
Nausea rolled through me.
She caused a major scandal when, in violation of professional ethics, she blew the whistle to the federal government about client Eastgate’s industrial waste leak that contaminated local groundwater, resulting in a spike in thyroid cancer cases.
The words blurred as I started to cry.
Thyroid cancer. When I’d learned the details, I’d broken on the inside. And then I was once again a little girl, sitting inside a sterile waiting room while my mom wept.
Same diagnosis as my dad. A different town, with different families. But the same outcome.
“I don’t regret it.” Swallowing hard, I turned to Gabe. “But we worked hard to bury this. To take my name out of it and keep the focus on the victims and their rights.”
I sniffled as he continued reading.
“I was hired to ‘contain’ any possible scandal. Get to the root, pay off the right people, kill any press investigation, and keep the regulators away.
“But then I saw the reports and spoke to scientists. They knew the waste was leaching into the groundwater. They knew it caused cancer. They cut a few corners to keep shareholders happy, and there was a big leak. From there, real people, real families, paid the price.”
Harper, who was still on the phone, let out a sigh. “We’ll deal with this.”
“You can’t,” I said, swiping at my cheeks. Scandals like this weren’t containable. I’d know; I was the expert in containment.
“There’s more,” she said.
Gabe squeezed my hand.
“Sources suggest Monroe violated ethical protocols and fiduciary duty, which led to significant investor losses. We can exclusively report several aggrieved parties are preparing legal action.”
My stomach dropped.
“I’ve got to go.” Without waiting for a response, I ended the call.
“What do we do?” Gabe asked.
I studied his handsome, concerned face. This was a man who cared. Who put everyone else’s needs above his own.
“You do nothing,” I said firmly, opening the door. “This is political suicide. Stay far away. Focus on your recall. Campaign, kiss babies, shake hands, whatever.” I shook my head. “This is my problem. I’ll deal with it.”
“Sabrina, no.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m not leaving you like this.”
Standing outside the door, I shook my head. “I need to go think. Alone.”
His face fell.
“I’ll call you later. This is just…” I trailed off as images of our amazing day together flashed through my mind. I’d been so content here for the past few weeks. I should have known it wouldn’t last. The other shoe was always going to drop. “What I deserve.”
I shut the door and walked into my mother’s house, but Gabe was quick, jumping out of the Jeep and following me up the walkway.
“They can’t sue you,” he said, leaving the driver’s side door open. “Whistleblowers are protected.”
I smiled at him. This man was so na?ve. Always believing in good.
“It’s a bit more nuanced,” I explained. “And this is the playbook. When you lose control of the truth, you go after the person who revealed it.”
He stared at me, his jaw tight. “But—”
“I wrote the playbook, Gabe. Remember?” I pointed to myself. “Bad guy.”
“That is bullshit,” he said, his eyes flaring with anger. “That’s not who you are. This is just someone trying to fuck with you. To intimidate you.”
“They want me to regret it,” I said, willing myself not to break into sobs. “But I don’t. I just wish Maplewood wasn’t caught in the crosshairs. Because this is what happens when people do the right thing.” Woodenly, I walked to the door. “Go home, Gabe,” I said as I turned the lock.
When I shut the door, he was still standing there, staring.