“I’m warning you.” He presses my mail against my chest and moves past me before I can hurt him.
He’s stepping onto the elevator within seconds, saving me from assault charges.
I quickly unlock the door to my place and step inside. Unable to think, I drop the mail on my counter and feel the sudden urge to call Scarlett.
I can’t, though...
I scroll through my other contacts, searching for someone—anyone—who I can call at this hour to talk to for no reason, but there’s no one.
Flipping through the mail, I spot the manila package Peter personally delivered.
There’s no stamp on it, just a mere “Let it go” scrawled across its back and the seven words that have owned me for decades on its front:
The State of Pennsylvania versus Jameson Tate
I don’t need to open it.
I know this case so well that someone could blindfold me, and I could recite every interview and eyewitness statement by heart.
Pushing it aside, I spot a small blue package with “Hudson University” as its return address.
Intrigued, I open it, but there’s no letter inside. Just something small and shiny with a tag of some sort.
I dump it onto my counter, watching the sapphire charm necklace I bought for Scarlett roll across my counter.
The tag around its clasp begs me to flip it over, so I oblige.
FUCK YOU, JAMESON.
CONFLICT OF INTEREST (N.):
A SITUATION IN WHICH A PERSON HAS A DUTY TO MORE THAN ONE PERSON OR ORGANIZATION, BUT CANNOT DO JUSTICE TO THE ACTUAL OR POTENTIALLY ADVERSE INTERESTS OF BOTH PARTIES.
SCARLETT
The lights in the Hudson Performing Arts Theater are alight in a hazy blue that makes the stage look like it’s floating amidst the clouds.
Set up for an upcoming production ofCatch Me If You Can, there’s a white prop plane “flying” at its center—marred with the words “DO NOT MOVE UNTIL SHOWTIME.”
Since they only hired me to do the painting of its wings and nothing else, I refuse to feel guilty for trespassing here after hours.
“Anytime now, Scarlett…” Jeneva snaps her fingers from the front row. “The judges aren’t going to give you this much grace on starting the audition, and you know it.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I clear my throat and take my position at center stage, right in front of the prop plane. “I’m ready now.”
“Goddamnit, Hannah.Why don’t you love me anymore?” She feeds me the male character’s lines. “Can’t you see how good we are together?”
“It’syouwho doesn’t love me, Timothy,” I say. “And I…”
I suck in a breath as a wave of paralysis washes over me, rendering me useless.
Suddenly, my father is sitting in the front row, glaring at me and telling me that “things like this” are a waste of my time. My older brothers are behind him—shaking their heads in shame—while my mother looks embarrassed about my existence.
In the back row, Jameson is staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable.
My heart suddenly aches at the thought of him, at the idea that I can’t reach him anymore, that I’ve officially lost him in my life.
Then again, he made it perfectly clear that he no longer wanted to be in it, and as much as it hurt—I’ve started making moves to accept it.
