Page 51 of Sinful Sharing

Taylor

Twenty-Four Hours Later

Campaign headquarters has never been so quiet.

Not because there aren’t people here. They’re everywhere. Sitting in Mom’s oversized leather chair in her office, staring at the carpet, I hear the proof of their existence through the closed door. Phones are ringing nonstop, staff members are rushing through the hallway, and voices are murmuring in tense conversations.

All because of me.

Despite all that noise, the energy feels different. Heavy. Suffocating. Mom perches on the edge of her desk, staring at me. She hasn’t said a word since I arrived ten minutes ago, fresh from my flight with nothing but the clothes on my back. Her usually perfect composure is fraying around the edges. Frustration tightens her soft, rounded jawline. The dark circles around her light blue eyes confirm how little she has slept since a website posted the video yesterday.

Someone recorded Roman and me having sex in the barn.

And by someone, I mean Mr. Wilson.

Not that I have proof, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. It would explain why he checked out so early. I’m certain he recorded that video, just like I’m certain he booked his stay at Silver Sage to snoop on me. His motive? I’m not sure. The only logical explanation would be that Mom’s opponent hired him.

And if I’m right—and I’m positive I am—this all happened because I gave Celeste my security code. It was then that everyone found out I wasn’t around.

Regret floods my system as Mom’s folded arms tighten across her chest. “I’ve spent two years building trust with donors,” she says. “Two years knocking on doors. Raising money. Visiting every neighborhood in the district.”

She shakes her head.

“Now, all they are talking about is that video.”

I stare down at my hands, swallowing hard. The only words I can manage to say are, “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been sorry before, Taylor.”

A searing ache spreads across my chest. My palms start sweating. She’s right. This conversation feels like déjà vu.

“And I cleaned up your mess. I defended your actions. I believed you.”

Her voice cracks. I glance up. Two seconds later, I regret doing so. The tears in her eyes make me feel worse.

“You slept with your uncle, Taylor. Jesus.”

I glance back down at my hands. It hurts to look at her. “Step-uncle,” I murmur. “And it’s not as if he raised me, Mom. I’d never even met him.”

“Do you think anyone cares about semantics? You and Roman might not be biologically related, but he’s a member of this family. A distant member, but one nonetheless. As far as the public is concerned, you have no business being intimate with him.”

The public. I sigh. As if I needed another reason to miss Hallow Creek. I’m not looking forward to the countless eyes that will be watching whenever I go out. The scrutiny, the judgements, the twenty-one questions Mom will force me to answer politely... God, I don’t want to deal with that. I want remoteness. I want privacy.

I want to be where Jude and Roman are.

“You told me you were confused,” she whispers. “You looked right in my eyes and swore it was that one time, that it would never happen again. Not only did you lie, but you also embarrassed me in the worst imaginable way.”

It feels as if someone sucked the air from the room. “Mom—“

“It wasn’t a phase, was it, Taylor?”

I press my thumb into my palm.

“Are you gay?”

The question hangs between us. The word ‘yes’ lingers on the tip of my tongue. ‘No’ sounds safe and temporary. ‘Yes’ will be permanent. ‘Yes’ might destroy us. But it will also make the years of pretending disappear. The constant lies. My fake relationship. The fear of being trapped in a loveless marriage.

One word. That’s all it takes. My pulse thumps in my ears. I think of Roman and Jude, of how alive they made me feel, how, for that short time, they made me forget about being afraid. God knows I don’t want to live with this fear anymore. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life simply existing.