And…cue a litany of apologies and explanations.

I started, “Erica, I am so, so sorry—”

She held up her hand. “Look, I wasn’t born yesterday. I watched the case in high school. You were crucified back then. It was like you killed your foster father, not that deliciously hot mysterious guy who just left here. I get it. I do. I was just”—she lifted a shoulder in a shrug—“hurt that I didn’t know. And can I say, kudos for a dramatic exit from the party? That had everyone spinning. I mean, Kian came in and saved you again.” She pretended to fan herself once more. “If I had one romantic bone in my body, I’d be swooning.”

Wanker’s eyebrows pinched forward together. “Yeah.” He frowned across the table at her.

I bit down on my lip. Making things right with Erica was the first goal, but after that, I was clueless. For the first time in a long time, I had no idea where to turn to or run, if I should even run.

Clearing his throat, Wanker asked quietly, “What’s going to happen now, Jo…rdan?”

A slight chuckle left me, bouncing my shoulders up and down. It’d be a while before my given name would become normal to them, but that was the least of the changes I’d be getting accustomed to now. I let out a sigh and fell back against the chair, gazing around the table.

Wanker was concerned. Erica looked troubled as she was biting down on one of her nails.

I shook my head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Erica’s hand fell from her mouth. She suddenly jerked forward in her seat, her elbows landing on the table, as the coffee pot was spouting behind her. It was almost done with the first pot. “What exactly is the problem? I mean, I get it. You were hiding from the media—”

I interjected, “And the nation.”

She kept going, waving a hand to me, “And the nation. I get that. But people can’t blame you anymore. Kian is out. He got out early, and they’re not prosecuting him anymore, so that means you’re in the clear, too.” Her head moved back and forth from Wanker to myself. “Right?”

He lifted his shoulders. “The public isn’t forgiving. They blamed her when the case unfolded. From the reports we caught earlier, it sounded like it was going in the same direction.”

Snark said I’d be blamed as a distraction from Kian’s retrial, but that wasn’t going to happen. He said the police weren’t searching for me anymore either. Those worries were done and put away. There was one big one though. Wanker had hit it on the head, the public.

“I might get kicked out of school.”

“No way.” Erica frowned. “They can’t do that. You were a victim three years ago. And you had to go to school while the case was in trial, too. They can’t kick you out for being a victim.”

Victim. I winced at that word. “I’ll probably lose my job.”

She started to protest.

Wanker stopped her. “She’ll cause a disruption if she works there. They could fire her for that. I don’t know about school, but I’d imagine they could kick her out. A trumped-up reason is all they need, and I’ve no doubt the administration could find one to justify their actions.”

No school. No job. What would I have then?

These guys. That’s what.

And Kian, a voice said in my head.

But would I?

We’d been together. He saved me over and over again, but Snark’s words were in my head, too.

Did Kian’s team have anything to do with the note going public? It led to my discovery.

No.

I shut that down.

I couldn’t go there.

“The public hates her,” Erica said. The sputtering from the coffee pot died. “Let’s change their minds.”

My head started to fall down, my hands folded together in my lap, but I looked up. Her eyes were clear and bright, determined.

She gazed at me to Wanker and back again. “What do you think?” Her voice was almost upbeat.

Wanker frowned, taking his glasses off. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She searched for the words. “We do a live interview. Yeah, it could work. Susan got in touch with the local news station when we did that interview and when she was shopping it around. They wanted to buy it. My email was attached on a bunch of those group messages. I know one of the camera guys. We’ve hung out at the Wine Cellar together. He’d help us, or he’d get us in touch with who could help us.”

“You mean, you’d do the live interview?” Wanker’s elbow was propped on the table, and he pointed his glasses from Erica to me. “You would interview Jo…rdan?”

Her head bobbed up and down. “Yeah.” As the idea grew, so did her excitement. Her eyes were brimming with it. “And we’d go live, so nothing could be edited out. This is a great idea, you guys.” She clapped her hands together and extended them to us. “Why aren’t you more excited? This could change everyone’s opinion of Jo—Jordan. She’s never spoken out before.”

“I wasn’t allowed to.” I’d been advised against it.

“But you’re not a kid anymore. You’re of legal age. We should do it. This could take care of everything, if your side is out there. No fires will be started, and no one can twist your words if they’re already out there.” She scooted back her chair. “I think it’s the only option, or Jordan’s going to have to live in fear again.” She stood to get some coffee.

I could already hear Snark in my head, telling me not to do it. And Kian’s team…they’d protect him first. I doubted they would want me to say anything. I didn’t know what Kian would say, and a side of me didn’t want to ask. I should. He deserved the chance to voice his opinion, but in that moment, I was tired.

All the years of hiding.

All the years of being scared.

All the years of holding my tongue.

Erica was right. I’d never been allowed to speak out before. I felt hushed, by both sides of the case, by the social worker, by the police, by everyone. I was tired of keeping quiet. I was tired of listening to everyone else, and right then, right there, my decision was made.

I looked at Erica. Bringing a poured cup of coffee to the table and halfway bending down to sit on the chair, she paused. She held still in the air, her hand a few inches from the table.