Page 41 of After We Fall

“Explain.”

I sigh. “If I do, will you leave me alone?”

“Not on your life.”

Squaring my shoulders, I push out of my chair, step to a card table, and sift through a pile of printed labels. “Phillip felt like I owed him gratitude for adopting me. He provided me with an excellent and expensive education and, upon graduation, ample opportunities. When I chose not to work for his reelection campaign, he took it personally. And when I declined a position with a prominent donor, he made it impossible for me to obtain employment.”

“How could he pull that off?”

“I made the mistake of sharing with my beloved adoptive parents where I was interviewing.” I pick up a page of labels and pull off the first sticker.

“And?” Luke prompts.

Focused on my task, I keep my voice level. “I didn’t grasp what was happening at first. Three different companies strung me along for a few months, then abruptly dropped their interest. When I confronted Phillip, his response was to inform me that he still had an opening on his staff.”

“That’s good publicity for a senator when the grateful adopted daughter returns home to serve in the family business,” Luke says.

“I refused his opportunity one final time.”

“And you came to work for Harlan?”

“No.” I pick up a manila file folder and press the label on the tab with practiced perfection, smoothing it down for finality. “That’s when I became homeless.”

Ignoring Luke’s grunt, I push forward as if I’m reporting the daily news. “Phillip kicked me out of his house. Changed the locks. Cut me off financially.” I pause, studying the second label, then pull it free of the sheet. “Well, he drained my bank account, then he cut me off. And overnight, I lost everything.”

“Why didn’t you go public with this story?”

“My connections with the media weren’t as significant as a senator’s—they made that clear.” But that wasn’t the only reason. I’d been conflicted. The Nelsons had done so much for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Luke taking one step toward me.

“So what did you do?” His low, tight voice almost demands an answer.

“Jason told me to come live with him, but Phillip threatened to cut him off as well.” I smile weakly down at my work. “But the title to the car I drove was in my name. So I got to keep it and live out of it for six months.”

Intense energy emanates from Luke and zaps around the room, but I don’t dare look at him.

In the midst of confessing one of the most shameful periods of my life, I’m unable to keep my hands from shaking. To steady them, I attach the label to the next file. Shoot. This one is a little crooked. I swallow. “I spent time at the public library using their computers to research employment opportunities and re-create my résumé. I worked temp jobs. Showered at the community center.”

Hiding my unsteady hand behind the folder, I ball it into a tight fist. I exhale, uncurling my fingers.

“I met Harlan when I was temping for an accounting firm he used during his Hollywood days. I had talked him through a few details of his accounts over the phone, then met him twice when he had occasion to come in. We briefly talked shop. I think he liked talking about things other than his career. Anyway, one day he came in for a meeting and happened to see me getting chewed out by one of the partners in front of everyone in the break room. Later, he found me in the parking lot. My car wouldn’t start and I was”—I shake my head, almost able to smell the oil leak wafting off the hot California pavement—“struggling. I couldn’t help myself, and I blubbered my story to him. He offered me a plane ticket to Colorado Springs, free board, and a job as his assistant. I’ve been here five years.”

“If you’ve known Harlan that long, then you know he won’t fire you over Finley leaving the ranch.”

I purse my lips. He might not ask me to leave, but I worry he’ll never see me as capable of being anything other than his assistant. I ruined my shot at a promotion, one that I yearned for. I don’t think I can stay in my current capacity, even if he doesn’t ask me to leave.

Luke touches my arm. “I can’t imagine someone who is supposed to be a father figure doing something like that to their kid.”

Risking a glance at his concerned face, I offer a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes. “Well, you won’t have to imagine. If you’re coming to Harlan and Meredith’s New Year’s party, you can meet him yourself.”

His voice sounds lethal when he says, “Come again?”

“Phillip and Cynthia Nelson will be sitting at table twelve with Jason. You can meet the whole family.”

“I’m going to need you to explain that one to me.” His voice drips with disdain. “Why would Harlan and Meredith invite them?”

I shrug, as if addressing and stamping that particular invitation didn’t cost me something. “Not long after I arrived in Colorado, Cynthia came to visit. Lots of dramatics and apologies for her husband’s behavior. She begged me to come home. Over the years, she’s done her best to patch things up with the family. They’ve traveled here numerous times over the years, and they’ve gotten to know Harlan, and now Meredith, pretty well.”