“Are you okay?”
“I have no idea how I am.” That was the truth, but I was mostly scared, terrified even. “I’ll be fine.”
“They don’t know where you are. And whatever they’re saying on the news isn’t true. No warrant has been issued for you. They just want to talk to you. That’s all. They want to ask questions, but if they can’t find you, they can’t ruin your life.” He visibly grimaced. “I’m sorry this is happening.”
Again.
He held that word back, but I knew what he meant. I heard it anyway. A media frenzy was coming my way. Whether I announced myself or not, they’d find me.
“They’re going to crucify me, aren’t they?”
He pulled me to him and held tight. “Not if I can help it.”
“Where will you go?” I asked after I pulled away and went for the door.
“I’m not sure yet. I would’ve gone to the Seton, but they know I did the interview there. Too much attention.”
I held the paper up. “Call after I read, right?”
“If you want.”
“Okay.” I waved with the paper in hand. “I suppose it’s see you later now? We’ve moved on to that.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I suppose so.” He paused, and then the other corner lifted, too. “It feels nice.”
A knot lodged in my throat again, and I couldn’t talk around it. As I pulled the door shut behind me, I knew I’d call, no matter what. I’d see him again.
That felt right, too.
Snark reached over me and yanked up the hood of his jacket. “Head down, and here we go.”
It was later, as Snark pulled up a block away from my apartment, that I thought to ask, “Why did you take me with you? Why did you go to see him?”
“Because I had to know.”
“Know what?”
He held my gaze steady. “If he was the one who had set you up.”
I swallowed tightly. “And?”
“I still have no idea.” He gave me a sad smile.
But that means…
“You think he’s pretending?”
“I don’t know what I think anymore. I really don’t.”
The right feeling I’d had with Kian was washed away with those few words. I was back to square one again. I still didn’t know if I could trust Kian or not. I crumpled the paper up in my hands. I needed to read it, I knew that, and I would, but damn, I just wanted to avoid it for now.
“I can’t hide from this, can I?”
“You can try. They might drop their angle, and your life might not be upended. That could happen, so chin up, kiddo.” He tapped under my jaw. “No one’s going to start looking at you like you’re Jordan Emory unless you wear a shirt that says you’re Jordan Emory.”
“Right. No T-shirts with my old name.”
“Damn straight.” He gestured to the sidewalk. “Now, get walking. I dropped you off, so you can walk in without my car being on any footage.”
“Thank you, Snark.”
“Ned.”
“What?”
“My real name is Ned.”
Ned. Ned Snark. I grinned at him. The name fit his old and cranky self.
“Thank you, Ned.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get going, you little hussy. And stay out of trouble. Oh…”
I paused, again.
He was serious. “I know you’re not asking, and I know my opinion might not hold any weight with you, but I’d pick the other guy.”
Jake. Not Kian.
I knew whom he meant, but I didn’t reply as I got out and shut the door. When I walked through my apartment door a few minutes later, Jake stood up from my couch.
I stopped, surprised.
He was in my apartment, waiting for me, with a grave expression on his face.
Then, he said two words, “Jordan Emory.”
Oh, fucking hell.
Kian’s voice came from the television screen before I could say anything. “People want me to blame Jordan, but I never will.”
What the…
Jake flashed me a grin and sat on the couch. Erica was on the coffee table. Her leg was resting on her knee, and she was holding a notepad, hunched over it.
Jake said again, “Jordan Emory. That’s her name?”
“Yeah.” Erica was writing something on the paper.
Kian’s voice continued from the television, “She had no part in it. People are fixated with what I look like, my last name, who my father is, and my promising future, my supposed promising future. But those people are wrong. They’re forgetting one small detail. Jordan.”
“What are you watching?” My breath was stuffed in my throat.
Erica grabbed the remote and hit the pause button. “I’m going over the interview before we send it off.”
“Going over it?” I swallowed painfully, edging closer to them.
“We sold it. I’m just doing the final edits for another piece I’m going to write up myself. I’m going to a different paper with it.”
“Can you do that? Won’t Susan get mad?”
Erica shrugged. Her eyebrows locked forward, and her chin hardened. “I don’t care. His team requested me, not her. This story is just as much mine as hers, and I can write my own spin on the whole thing.” She pressed Play.