Maddy looks stunned, and I realize I’ve perhaps said too much. How could I not, though? Why is everyone thinking about Dennis Slate’s family? Why are his sons’ bright futures being discussed in the report? What about my aunt’s future, what about her life? Why is no one discussing what was lost there?
Before Maddy can answer me, someone’s knocking on the door. I know it’s not Sebastian, because it’s a light, easy knock. I’m not particularly surprised when I open the door and see Sarah standing there. She smiles at me, and while I can still tell she’s upset, she’s far from the blubbering mess she was earlier in the day.
“Hey!” I say, and slip out the door to give us some privacy. “Did Stephanie call you?”
“Yes— she’s great. She’s sending over a cease and desist right away to Farrow, and said she’s worked with him before— that he’s a sexist jerk,” Sarah says, smiling painfully.
“Good! I’m glad. And hey, Sebastian said Conor is a great guy. Don’t let this mess things up with him if you really like him, okay?” I say, patting her shoulder comfortingly.
“Yeah. He really is great. I can’t believe how quickly we sort of connected last night,” Sarah says, blushing. “And hey, if you and Sebastian can make it work, anyone can with a little effort, right?”
“Sure. Sebastian and I definitely come from different worlds,” I say, nodding.
Sarah frowns. “Well, yeah, but I mean about his dad and your aunt. I had no idea you were Tessa Miller’s niece. For you and Sebastian to not let that get in the way…”
My heart drops. For a moment, reason defies me and I think it might have actually dropped, and be lurking somewhere around my toes. Sarah knows about me. About who I really am. Despite the fact that this moment was inevitable, I’m so shocked that I lose the ability to speak, for a second. My life here has been so sectioned off from my aunt that hearing someone just say this, out loud, like it’s nothing, renders my mind nearly useless for a beat.
“Oh,” Sarah says, holding her fingertips to her mouth. “I didn’t—I’m not supposed to know.” She looks apologetic, then shakes her head, waves her hands. “It’s okay— we don’t ever have to talk about it. I know it must be so hard— you know what, no I don’t. I have no idea what you’re going through, but I’m so sorry, and I’ll stop talking about it now, okay? I’m sorry I found out.” She’s trying so hard.
“I just didn’t think Stephanie would tell you. I guess I never told her that it was sort of a secret.”
“Well, I promise to keep it,” Sarah says, looking almost painfully sincere. “Seriously. Who knows? Just Sebastian? What about your roommates?”
I bite my lip, blink to try to disguise the fear in my eyes. “I didn’t— Sebastian doesn’t know.”
“Oh. Oh, Ashlynn,” Sarah says in nearly a whisper. “Really?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know how it’s gone on so long without me telling him. I just didn’t want to ruin anything, and then one week became two and three and…now if I tell him, it’ll be this big secret I kept—“
“But he’s going to find out. Eventually, he’ll find out,” Sarah says.
“I know. I just need to find the right time. So if you could keep it quiet, I would really, really appreciate that—“
Sarah gasps, and it’s enough to cut me off. “Oh my god. Oh, god—“ She grabs her phone from her purse and begins frantically texting.
“What?” I say, eyes wide, trying to see over her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was a secret, but maybe I can stop it,” she’s saying, almost babbling.
“Sarah! Who did you tell?” I ask.
She stills, presses her lips together, shakes her head. “Ashlynn, I’m so sorry. But I mentioned it to Conor.”
24
I run.
I actually run to my car, then jet to Sebastian’s house, because all I can think is that if I move fast enough, if I get to him first, I can mitigate the damage. I probably can’t keep him from finding out the truth, not when Conor knows it, but if I can just get there ahead of time, I can tell him first and then it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.
I tear up the steps to his house, but no one answers the door— he isn’t here. I spin, trying to figure out where he might be. Practice, surely. He’s got practice of some sort in the evening until nine, which means he’s got another thirty minutes to go. I pace on the front porch for a moment, then rush back to my car. I think I know where the training field is. Why didn’t I take him up on the offer that time he asked me to come watch a practice? Ugh—