Gabe
She’d been avoiding me.
And I was out of my mind with worry. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was the pain on her face when she’d read those headlines. My phone hadn’t stopped ringing; townsfolk were panicking, and overnight, more Recall Harding signs had appeared on lawns. But all I could think about was her.
So I headed to the one place I knew I could find her. Her safe space.
Unsurprisingly, the TAP team was assembled. As I noted the cars in the parking lot, a tiny twinge in my chest made my breath catch. She’d called them before me. They got to be here helping, while she’d pushed me away.
Beyond them, the library lights glowed warm against the gray March skies.
Shoulders squared, I headed straight in to find Laurie at the circulation desk.
“Copy room.” She went back to typing furiously.
I’d never seen Laurie Monroe so rattled, which scared me more than any bad press.
Heart thumping, I headed back behind the small kitchen to the supply closet where the massive copier was housed along with floor-to-ceiling office supplies and boxes upon boxes of damaged books.
It smelled like toner and stale coffee.
Sure enough, Sabrina was there, pacing, with her head buried in her phone. She was in all black, with circles under her eyes, and her shoulders were hunched in what I’d come to realize was her defensive posture. Like she was bracing to take a blow.
She looked exhausted, yet beautiful and dangerous too.
I closed the door behind me, and without a word, I wrapped my arms around her. The room was cramped, which meant there was no way for her to put distance between us.
She stiffened at first, but then, with a sharp exhale, she sank into my chest.
Relief hit me hard. She was here. She was okay.
We were silent for a few moments, just holding one another, while I dug deep to find the right words.
Before I’d come up with them, she sniffled and straightened.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
I sighed. “I need to talk to you.”
Her bottom lip quivered. “What have you heard?”
“Nothing good.”
“I saw the signs.”
“I don’t care.” I took a deep breath and dove in. “This is more than politics. My office received half a dozen freedom of information act requests this morning. About meetings, email records, TAP activities.”
She stiffened again. “Of course.”
“Someone is trying to intimidate you.”
“It’s working,” she whispered. “It feels like everything I’ve built here is falling apart. And instead of only hurting myself, I’m taking the entire town down with me.”
Her eyes welled with tears and her cheeks went blotchy.
Pain lanced through me. “There’s something else.”
With a deep inhale, she nodded, ready for it.
“Woodstock Insurance called, they no longer want to be a principal sponsor of the Maplewood Games, and they do not want to be included in the public proposal.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “But…”
“Apparently after ‘internal meetings,’ they decided it’s not right for their brand.”
“We built everything around their involvement,” she rasped, then inhaled a shaky breath. “And part of the pitch to the town is that we’re not asking for a lot of money because we’ve got Woodstock Insurance and plan to get more sponsors.”
I nodded, rubbing her shoulders. “This is coordinated,” I said softly. “And I’m scared.”
She frowned at me. “I’m not. Trust me, I know this game. And if they think they can intimidate me with FOIA requests and lawsuits—”
“Lawsuits?” I frowned. “I thought that was just speculation on the internet.”
She shook her head. “Got served this morning. Blackbriar Capital.”
My stomach dropped. The name alone sounded expensive and evil. Also pretty familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“It’s a hedge fund,” she explained, “owned by Richard Calloway, father of our favorite wayward son.”
The information nearly knocked me over. Though it made sense now. But how was Ethan’s dad connected to what happened in DC?
“Blackbriar was the principal investor in Eastgate,” she said, as if reading my mind. “Held shares in several of their funds. It’s a whole shit show.”
“Let’s go to Nolan,” I said. “We should document this. Who knows what Ethan is capable of.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s a pencil-dick fuck-up using his dad’s money to intimidate me. Hardly a crime lord.”
“I don’t want you alone. All this… it feels off.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended. Too possessive. Too fearful.
And as I expected, the moment they were out, she did not react well. She took a big step away from me, crossing her arms, going on the defensive.
“I can handle myself.” Her voice was low and dangerous.
I clenched my fists at my sides. “Isolating yourself is not going to fix anything. We’re under attack on multiple fronts.”
Her eyes flared. “Don’t you think I know that? Can’t you see that I ruin everything I touch? But there is one thing I do well, and it’s fuck with people who cross me. Let me handle this. Please. Stay far away.”
“I can’t do that,” I growled, frustration surging inside me. “You vanished for twelve hours.”
“I was working,” she shouted.
“You were hiding from me. From us.”
Her expression turned murderous. But beneath the sharp surface? There was fear. And it made my heart stop.
“Let’s call a press conference,” I offered. “Or have Harper film a video for the socials. We can show solidarity and talk about our exciting plans for Maplewood. Make it clear we will not be deterred.”
She recoiled. “You cannot afford to be publicly tied to me right now.”
A scoff escaped me and echoed around the room. “I already am.”
“No.” She shook her head, taking another step back. “No. You’re not doing that. You will get out there and hit the ground. Assure your constituents that everything is fine. You will put distance between us publicly.”
The intensity of the pain in my chest was only matched by my anger. Didn’t she see what she was asking for?
“No.”
“But this could get you recalled.”
I backed her closer to the wall, taking one step, then another. “You don’t get to decide for me,” I said coolly. “I don’t give a fuck about being mayor. I’ll leave it all behind tomorrow. Same with this town. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to smooth things over.”
As shocking as it was, it was the truth. My entire life had been built around serving this town. Keeping everyone happy. Being the agreeable, reasonable guy who got along with everyone. But standing here with her now, I understood that the old version of me was long gone.
She stared at me, wide-eyed, but I was just getting started.
“All I want is to protect you and our baby, then destroy every person who has ever hurt you.”
“I ruin people,” she rasped. “I don’t want to ruin you.”
Grasping her chin, I tipped it up so I could see the tears welling in her beautiful dark eyes. “You have already ruined me.” I gave her a feral smile. “I know what life is like without you, and I’m never going back.”
Angling in, I kissed her. It was gentle, despite the way I wanted to ravage her. I held her close, trying to say with my body what words could not achieve. She kissed me back, clutching the front of my shirt.
For a moment, I thought she may let me in. May let me carry this with her.
But then she pulled away and averted her gaze. “We both have a lot of work to do.” Her walls slammed down between us, thick and impenetrable.
Grief hit me like a sucker punch. “Sabrina.”
She took a step back. “I mean it. We are going to make the Maplewood Games happen. Even if it takes everything we’ve got.”
Her rejection stung. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder, jump in my Jeep, and drive away from all of this.
But that was not who Sabrina was. She didn’t run. She fought.
“Okay,” I said softly. “But promise me you’ll come over later. So we can talk.”
She hesitated. Far too long for my liking.
A cold knot of fear formed in my stomach.
But with a sigh, she nodded once. “Okay. I’ll come over once I wrap up here.”