The Trouble With Goodbye

by Sarra Cannon

  If I’ve learned anything while watching what Molly’s been through, it’s that the press is on Burke’s side in this whole thing.

  I want to curl up on the floor and go to sleep. I want to rewind six hours and convince Knox to run away with me. I could change my name. My face. My self.

  But I can’t. This is my life and like it or not, I am going to have to face this.

  I dig deep and gather strength from every corner of my being. I lift my head and see all eyes staring at me. Their expectations gather on my shoulders and I have no choice but to give them what they want. Anything else would just be too damn hard.

  I take a deep breath, then square my shoulders.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “The best thing to do right now is to lay low,” Mr. Wright says. “We’ll have your parents make a statement to the press. Leigh Anne, you need to stay inside the house for a few days until the story dies down a little. As long as you don’t do anything to fuel the fire, there’s a shot the story will die just as fast as it started.”

  “We all know that’s not going to happen,” my father says. “We need to find out who leaked this information in the first place and get a muzzle on them as fast as possible.”

  “We’re working on that,” Mr. Wright says. He stands and takes a place on the floor across from me where he can tower over us all. “Until we find the leak, though, we’re going to have to try to manage the story from here. Without Leigh Anne’s official statement to validate their story, they won’t have anything to report but rumors and hearsay, and that isn’t going to get them very far. Since there was no official report or complaint ever filed with the school’s disciplinary committee, there shouldn’t be much of a paper trail.”

  “What about the hospital?” Mom asks. She’s wringing her hands in her lap. “There will be a record somewhere of her being admitted for the initial rape kit.”

  “We’ll need to see if we can get ahold of that before the media does,” he says. “Who else did you tell?”

  “Campus police, my resident advisor, my roommate, the dean of students.” The list is small, but big enough for me to have no idea who might have told.

  “What’s your roommate’s name?” he asks. “Any chance she’s the one who told the press? Maybe she has some desire to be a part of the news story?”

  I shake my head. “Sophy’s not like that,” I say. “She would never tell anyone without talking to me first.”

  I go to get my phone from my bag, but it’s not there. “I think I left my cell phone in my car.”

  “We’ll need to get you a new phone,” Mr. Wright says. “I’ll get you one in my company name that you can use for emergencies, but you need to be very careful not to speak to anyone about the case over the phone or email."

  “I’ll still need my phone so I can get important numbers off of it,” I say. I feel strangled. They're taking my phone away?

  “I’ll send Bernard to go pick up your car from the bar. You can grab your phone then, and we can switch them out later this afternoon,” he says. “You’ll need to be very careful who you speak with at this point, though. It would be best if you don't use the phone at all unless you have to."

  “And no texts or calls with Knox,” my mother says.

  I tense, my teeth clenched. I need to get a message to Knox. I need to make sure he’s okay and that he knows we might have to cool things off for a while, but that my feelings for him haven’t changed. I have no idea how long this media attention will last, but I’m hoping it won’t be more than a week or two before things can go back to normal. I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him. Especially not after what we shared.

  I also want a chance to talk to Sophy about this. I need to make sure she didn’t say something to someone accidentally.

  “The other thing is that we’re going to have to do everything we can to make Leigh Anne look as respectable and settled as we can,” Mr. Wright continues. “The more we can convince them she’s happy here and that there’s no truth to this story about Burke Redfield, then the more they’ll get bored and move on to a more sensational story with drama and intrigue.”

  I hear what he’s saying, but I don’t put it all together until the back door opens and Preston walks into the room. Suddenly, it all becomes clear.

  Preston is playing the role of my knight in shining armor.

  He meets my gaze and there is genuine concern in his eyes. I’m thankful for that much at least.

  His father crosses over to him. “Preston, you got here just in time. Did you have any trouble getting through?”

  “No sir,” he says, his eyes still on me. “Bernard is keeping the driveway clear.”

  I wait for the master plan to unfold, but by this point, I have a pretty good idea what it’s going to be.

  I’m numb, caught between what was and what could have been.

  “Later this afternoon, we’ll have your mother and father issue a formal statement that while you did formerly attend the same school, you did not know Mr. Redfield or Molly Johnson and that you are not involved in any way in Ms. Johnson’s lawsuit or the accusations she’s making against the actor. The statement will also say that while you enjoyed your two years at the university, your affection for your high school sweetheart has brought you back home to Fairhope where you plan to enroll at FCU to complete your studies.”

  I close my eyes. Yes, I knew something like this was coming. I should have known the second I saw Mr. Wright in the house that the ulterior motive would be to push me back together with his son. This is what both our families have wanted all along, so why not use this unfortunate situation to bring us together?

  My pain is merely an opportunity for a business merger.

  I have no tears left to cry. I have only emptiness.

  And the fear that everything I dreamed of just hours ago is now lost to me forever.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  When Mr. Wright is done explaining how I’m to behave and who I’m supposed to love for the rest of my life, I excuse myself and walk up the stairs to my room.

  Bernard returned with my car and my phone earlier, and I plug my phone into the charger by the bed, then sit down and place my head in my hands. How could things have gotten so out of control so fast? The past year has been a series of impossible moments. Moments where I had to put on a brave face and soldier on no matter how broken I felt inside.

  I survived that, and I will survive this too.

  Somehow.

  I strip my clothes from my body and run the shower as hot as possible, letting the hot water turn my skin pink and raw. Steaming, almost painful showers have become a ritual for me since that first shower the night I was raped. As long as I can feel the pain, I know I’m still alive. I’m still here fighting.

  When I step out of the shower, I feel better.

  My phone is charged enough to turn it on and check my messages. I gasp when I see that I have over forty text messages and three hundred unread emails. I sink down onto my bed and quickly scan the messages, looking for two names. Sophy or Knox.

  There’s nothing from Knox, but Sophy’s name pops up right away.

  I find a frantic text message from her and my heart clenches inside my chest.

  I need to talk to you. I think I fucked up. Please call me.

  Then later:

  Oh God, Leigh Anne, I’m so incredibly sorry. PLEASE call me. I need to talk to you.

  The words break my heart. I know she would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, but regardless of intention, the end result is still the same.

  My finger hovers over the phone, but I’m unsure how to respond. I don’t want to call her or even hear her excuses right now. I just want to know who she told and why.

  I finally type.

  Was it you?

  I already know the answer, but I’m hoping it will come with some kind of explanation.

  The phone dings back seconds later
.

  Can I call you?

  I tell her no. I tell her my phone is going to be turned off soon and she might not be able to reach me for a while. I tell her I want to know what happened.

  Hard to explain over text. I volunteered for an event and Molly was there. We talked. I told her your story, but not your name. She figured it out on her own. Not sure how. I just wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.

  The messages come through and some level of relief passes through me. Sophy may have shared my story, but she didn’t betray me. Not really. She didn’t give Molly my name and hang me out to dry on purpose. Molly, or more likely her attorney, must have followed the paper trail. What little of it there was, anyway.

  Are you okay? I never meant to hurt you.

  I close my eyes.

  Am I okay? I don’t even have an answer for her, so I lay the phone down on the bed and walk away. I am just pulling on my shirt when someone knocks on my bedroom door.

  I fling the door open expecting it to be my mom. I really don’t want to talk to her right now or hear her bullshit.

  But it isn’t my mother. It’s Preston.

  My eyes widen and I pull my shirt the rest of the way down and tuck my wet hair behind my ears.

  “Hey,” he says. “I don’t want to intrude if you need more time to process all this, but I’d really like to talk to you.”

  His expression seems genuine and his voice is soft and comforting. I have no idea if it’s real or if it’s another one of his acts. I guess now is as good a time as any to try to figure out if Preston is really going to be on my side in all this.

  I step aside and motion for him to come in. He walks past me. I shut the door behind him, then lean back against it, arms crossed in front of my chest.

  He sits down on the edge of my bed and looks down at his feet. “I had no idea,” he says.

  “About what? That your father had plans to force us back together?”

  His eyebrows cinch together and he shakes his head. “I had no idea what happened to you at school,” he says. “But no, I didn’t know my father’s plan either. He just called me and told me to get over to your house as soon as I could. I saw the rest on the news.”

  I press my eyes closed. No wonder I have so many messages already. Some version of this story has already hit the news.

  I want to fall into a heap on the floor, but the person I most need to comfort me isn’t here. I refuse to fall apart in front of anyone but Knox. No one else will make me feel loved and comforted the way he did.

  Instead, I stand. I survive.

  “So it’s really true?” he asks.

  “No, I just lied about all of this to get my face on the news,” I say, sarcasm rising to my tongue like a viper. It’s the story they’ve run about Molly for weeks now and it pisses me off every time I see it. As if any woman wants to go through all this on purpose.

  “That’s not what I mean,” he says. He stands and tries to put his hand on my shoulder.

  I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want to be touched by anyone right now. Especially someone who has no idea what I’m really going through.

  “I haven’t seen the news to see what story they’re running, but yes, I imagine it’s mostly true,” I say. I’m torn between wanting to turn on the news and watch the whole thing unfold and wanting to throw my TV out the window.

  Preston shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. “God, Leigh. I don’t even know what to say.” He looks up. “If I had known, I never would have…”

  His voice trails off and I think there’s actual guilt in his tone.

  “I know,” I say. “That night was all about my issues, not yours. I got scared and overreacted.”

  “Still, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to push you. I just thought things were the same between us, you know? Like we could pick up where we left off.”

  Is that what he still wants? Is he actually expecting me to go through with this plan?

  “I know things haven’t been easy for you,” he says, turning to face me squarely. “And I know this media coverage is going to make your life hell for a while, but I promise I’m going to do everything I can to shield you from it.”

  I shake my head. He’s so used to being able to fix everything with money and influence. He has no idea what this is really like for me. I’m so tired of everyone completely missing the point. No one here is really thinking about how the actual rape may have affected me. All they care about is the press and how much it will surely ruin my life if everyone finds out. What will they think of me? That’s the only question that seems to matter to anyone.

  “So you’re on board with this plan of your father’s?” I ask.

  “Absolutely,” he says. “Leigh Anne, you know I love you, right? I’ve always loved you.”

  “What about Bailey?”

  He shrugs. “She’ll understand,” he says. “She already knows anyway, really. She’s not stupid.”

  I want to ask what about Knox, but I already know what about Knox. They want to sweep him under the rug like trash and make sure he never speaks to me again. They’ll do everything they can to keep us apart.

  I can’t let that happen.

  “Preston, I need to tell you something.”

  He stands and walks toward the door, then turns back to me, sadness in his eyes. He waits, but I think he already knows what I’m going to say.

  “I really appreciate this, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” I say. “I’m in love with someone else.”

  He nods. “I know you care about Knox,” he says. “I can’t say I completely understand why, but I’ve seen the two of you together. I see the way you look at him sometimes. You used to look at me like that.”

  Did I? I never loved him the way I love Knox, but there’s no use rubbing salt on his wounds.

  “Knox, he’s not the right guy for you, Leigh. I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, and I know you don’t believe me, but that’s okay,” he says. “I know I’ve hurt you in the past, but I’m going to prove to you just how much I love you this time. I’m going to be here for you and I’m going to stand by you through this. With my family’s name behind this, the press won’t dare run your name into the ground.”

  I’m touched by his words, but he’s right. This is not what I want to hear right now.

  “We had something special once,” he says. “Maybe we can find that again. We’re meant to be, you and me.”

  He gives me a small smile, but I can’t return it. I’m sure he just thinks I’m going through something. Like my mother says, this is just a phase, right?

  But it’s not like that and none of them understand.

  “I’m going to go ahead and pick up that new phone for you and bring it by later this afternoon, if that’s okay,” he says. “I thought I’d pick up some movies too. Maybe some of your old favorites? We can watch movies all night and just chill. Like old times.”

  I smile and nod, playing my part. “Just like old times,” I say.

  But all I can really think about is how I’m going to get a message to Knox.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  After days of being sequestered in my parent’s house, I have finally come up with a plan that just might work.

  My parents insisted I quit my job, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I told them that if they really wanted me to look happy and settled here in Fairhope, then they couldn’t ask me to quit. How would it look? I needed to continue with my normal activities. Mr. Wright’s own words. They couldn’t argue.

  Maria agreed that in light of the news bomb, she’d give me some time off, but that she expects me back within a week.

  My mother claims that having a job as a waitress makes me look common, but I have no idea why she thinks being common is such a bad thing. I don’t think plastering it over CNN that I am working at a steak house waiting tables will make anyone gasp and point their finger at me. She’s just using this to control me in every way
, and I’m not going to allow it.

  Besides, the decision has been made whether she likes it or not, and by the time a week has passed, I’m aching to get out of this house.

  I pull on my black work pants, white button-up and my boots and head downstairs to grab something quick to eat before I head out.

  My mom is sitting in the kitchen watching TV. She changes the channel as soon as I enter the room, as if she’s trying to hide the news from me. All they’re doing is replaying the same story and pictures over and over, but she still watches it just to make sure they haven’t figured out anything new. It’s been eight days and already the story about me is fading since they don’t have any real confirmation or declaration from me.

  I’m sure they were all hoping I’d come forward with some sensationalized story, but I’m not ready to take that step. And if I do, I won’t sensationalize anything. I’ll tell the truth exactly as it happened.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” My mother has a nasty scowl on her face.

  I’m sure she was just thinking it was an ugly outfit at first, but then the truth dawns on her and anger flashes across her features.

  “Are you seriously going back to that awful job?” she asks. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea. We don’t need to give the press anything to report. Plus, I don’t want them harassing you while you’re there.”

  I open the fridge and take out a bag of baby carrots and some ranch dip.

  “Bernard’s been assigned to keep an eye on me,” I say. What more could they really expect of me? “I have done everything you’ve asked of me, including staying away from the man I love. You’re not going to take this away from me too. We already talked about this.”

  She shakes her head and grabs a towel to wipe up the spilled coffee. “You should at least wait until after the press conference. I’m going to call your father,” she says. “Maybe he can talk some sense into you.”