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If she was struggling for money... why the hell wouldn’t she say anything?
When Leighton reappeared, skin dewy from the shower, hair braided back in two perfect rows, and wrapped in a track suit that would’ve had me drooling if I weren’t so preoccupied wondering what the fuck I’d missed in the last three weeks.
Her eyes flicked from her toast to me, then down to the stack of envelopes in my hand.
Her face paled.
“What the hell are these?”
7
Turkey Trots and Dizzy Thoughts
OLIVER
“What do you mean, what the hell are these?” she snapped as I got to my feet. “You forget how to read, Hart?”
“Right, but they’re all overdue.” I held the stack out. “What’s going on, Leigh? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I lost my job after the accident,” she said flatly, shrugging like it meant nothing. “I was out for a month, and when I came back, paparazzi followed me to work, trying to get a story. Didn’t go over well with the crotch stain that was my manager.” Rather than sitting down to eat, she plopped onto the marble floor and tugged on her tennis shoes. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but the job market sucks right now. I’m about a day away from selling feet pics. But I’ll figure it out.”
“You have nice feet,” I deadpanned.
“Exactly.”
“But, Leigh, why didn’t you say something?” I didn’t even bother hiding the hurt in my voice. I couldn’t.
“I’m not looking for a white knight, Ollie. I got myself this far—I’ll get myself out.”
Frustration eclipsed my worry, and I closed the distance between us. Greyson caused this. And now he wasn’t even keeping tabs? I could kill him for it.
Dropping to one knee in front of her, I shook my head. “You didn’t choose to get in that accident. You didn’t choose to have a psychopath ransom your sister, pull that trigger, or drive off a goddamn bridge. None of this is your fault.”
“No,” she agreed softly, tightening her laces as red crept up her throat. “But it’s not anyone else’s fault, either. Evil people do evil things. Bad things happen to good people.” It sounded rehearsed—like something she’d said a hundred times just to survive it. “It’s fine, Ollie. I’ll figure it out.”
I held up the stack again. “This is figuring it out, Leighton?”
“Ollie, I love you, so I’m not gonna say what I want to say right now. But I am gonna beg you to drop it.”
“Yeah,no. That won’t be happening.”
“Ollie,” she warned as we stood. Hands on hips. Eyes flaring.
“Don’t ‘Ollie’ me,Trouble. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I don’t want your fucking money, Oliver!That’swhy!” Her voice cracked with the emotion I could see she was trying to shove down. “You’re beautiful, and you’ve got a gorgeous heart, and of course you’d wanna swoop in and save the day—but I don’t want a fucking dime from you.” She huffed, expression twisted somewhere between grief and fury as she yanked her ponytail tighter. “AndI knew you’d look at me likethat.”
“Like I’m worried about you?”
“I don’t need your pity, Hart.”
“And you don’t have it,Rhodes. You’ve got my anger. My disappointment. You think between me and Greyson, we don’t have enough connections to land you somewhere solid? That we couldn’t help you rise above a shitty market?”
“I don’t need to cheat my way into a job.”
“Cheat?” I choked on the word. “You think I’m offering you some backdoor shortcut? Jesus.” I followed her to the door and shut it before she could slip out like we weren’t mid-argument. “Listen to me.” She turned, glaring. I dropped my hand from the doorknob. “Nobody gets anywhere without help. A hand up. The right meeting at the right time. I’m not trying to be your knight in shining armor—I just want to help. But you have to let me.”
“Not all of us are cut out for corporate ladders.”