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chapter forty-one

Jillian

“ B efore we get into today’s headlines, I’d like to take a moment to address some rumors that have been floating around online.”

I held my posture steady with my hands folded in front of me on the desk.

The teleprompter was blank for this part because this wasn’t scripted.

I’d cleared it with Marco and HR the prior afternoon.

Considering the official WWTV Facebook page made a post announcing Graham’s departure, only fueling more inflammatory comments, staying silent didn’t really seem like an option.

I inhaled, doing my best to ignore the dull throb in my lower back. The meds just needed time to kick in. Relief was coming, and that thought alone helped me steady my breath.

“The short version is,” I continued, “some of the rumors are true. I have been in a relationship with our CEO, Graham Harlowe, who has now resigned. And yes, we kept it private, not because we were ashamed, but because we were navigating a complicated situation the best way we knew how. Falling in love with Graham was not something I planned to do this summer, but I’m so glad it happened. ”

I paused to let the truth settle, looking into the camera with a close-lipped smile I couldn’t fight anymore.

The studio was silent. Beside me, Chase was completely still, his eyes fixed on me.

Olivia lingered by the monitors in her usual arms-crossed stance, but she was just as frozen.

Meghan stood just off-camera, pressing her hands together in front of her lips and nodding like the proud friend she was.

Even Elaine hovered near the studio doors, waiting to hear what I’d say next.

I noticed all of them in my peripheral vision, but I swallowed and kept going, my smile fading.

“Some of you have made some pretty harsh comments, but that’s nothing new. When you work in this industry, you get used to judgment. Over the years, I’ve read comments about my weight, my makeup, my clothes, and even my accent.

“But here’s the thing: putting myself out there like this every morning means I’m always going to be a target for criticism. That’s part of the job. I just ask you to remember that… I’m a real person. I have a family, friends, and a life outside whatever screen you’re watching me on.”

Chase nodded beside me.

And then I heard Marco in my ear. “Great job, but wrap it up,” he rushed out.

“And so does Graham,” I continued, hurrying. “He’s more than just a man in a suit. He’s a local father, a teacher, a mentor, a neighbor, and a friend to many. He deserves grace, too. I hope you can keep that in mind before you post comments online.” I turned to Chase. “Anyway, that’s all I have.”

Chase gave me a nod before turning to the camera. “Not really feeling great about following that speech up with a report about the sewage plant, but here goes.”

We both laughed, and it was the kind of human reaction that I hoped would help our viewers see that we were real people.

I glanced down for a moment, just to breathe. I knew Graham was watching from home. My parents were streaming the show in Tennessee, too. My mom followed the WWTV Facebook page and saw the comments, so she of course had a lot of questions.

“When do we get to meet this man?” she’d wanted to know, and she was completely tickled when she learned she already had. “Oh, he was very handsome!”

I could still hear the way she’d drawn out the word handsome in the back of my mind when we cut to Bernard for the weather. Olivia was grinning over at me, hugging her clipboard to her chest.

Watching how the rest of the town reacted to the scandal had flipped a switch in her. She’d gone into full protective mode, warning the other interns that if they had something to say about her, her dad, or his girlfriend, they could say it to her face.

“I’m hormonal and I fight dirty, so I hope they choose wisely,” she’d told me in my cubicle first thing that morning.

I was relieved she wasn’t holding a grudge. She’d even eased up on Graham, too, showing a little sympathy now that he’d lost his job. And when she referred to me as her dad’s girlfriend , it felt like she was starting to accept it. Like she was rooting for us.

When the morning broadcast was over and everyone scattered, she found her way over to me, beaming with pride. “That was a really good speech.”

“Thank you! I had something written out, but all of that came from the heart.”

Olivia nodded, tucking her hair behind one ear. Her hand dropped to her belly. I could almost notice the tiniest bump there, but it didn’t look much different from how my stomach looked after downing a whole plate of nachos at La Cocina, so I didn’t comment on it.

I couldn’t wait to see how cute she looked with a baby bump, and I wondered if she’d ever let me take her shopping for maternity clothes. For baby clothes. Hell, for whatever she wanted.

“Do you want to know what I’ve been up to?” Olivia asked with one eyebrow raised, and her mischievous tone intrigued me.

“Um, yes? Sounds like it’s going to be good.”

She placed her clipboard on the news desk. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of who’s behind this anonymous post. You can call me an investigative reporter, I guess.”

“I can, and I will. Did you make any discoveries?”

Olivia sighed. “Not really, other than ruling people out. The other interns that Isaiah told swear they didn’t tell anyone else. They said they didn’t care enough about it to go yapping about it to their parents. I think I believe them.”

“Okay, good work,” I said, leaning onto my elbows on the desk. “Did you talk to anyone else?”

Her eyes darted around the studio for a moment before finding mine again. “Well, yeah. I hope this is okay, but I kind of cornered your ex-boyfriend and threatened him in the hallway yesterday afternoon.”

I grinned. “You did?”

“Yeah, I did. And Xander might be a thirty-something-year-old man, but just know that he’s scared of pregnant fifteen-year-olds. I almost had him shaking.”

That image alone made me snort with laughter. “You should know that he’s also scared of planes,” I giggled out. “But what are your thoughts? Did he make the post?”

I already knew it wasn’t him, but I wanted to hear Olivia’s assessment, anyway. “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “He said only a pussy would post something like that anonymously.”

That sounded like him. “Well, this narrows it down.”

“Now I’m stuck,” she said.

I twisted the ends of my hair, thinking this over. I was dying to know the truth, too. And there was really only one person we could ask.

“You know what? We’re going on a field trip,” I told Olivia. “Go grab your purse.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling into the gravel lot at Sloane Automotive.

It was a rundown garage with peeling paint beside a yard packed full of rusty junk cars.

Randy Sloane, a middle-aged man with a permanently cocky grin, stood out front, handing a set of keys to an older man who shuffled off with a wave.

Randy was a proud libertarian, and he loved stirring up trouble in his little Facebook group. This scandal was probably the highlight of his entire week.

He licked his lips and widened his eyes as we approached, his gaze bouncing between me and Olivia like he was trying to figure out what kind of trouble we were bringing.

“Jillian Taylor,” he said. “Don’t tell me the Channel Fourteen van needs work again.”

“Well, it probably does,” I responded with a laugh. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh, I know exactly why you’re here,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and squinting one eye against the sun. “I saw the post.”

“Why didn’t you take it down?”

“Free speech,” he said, leaning over to spit on the gravel. Olivia quietly scoffed in disgust.

“That’s not how it works,” I snapped.

Olivia crossed her arms. “Yeah. Free speech only applies to the government, not private Facebook groups. Admins can take down anything they want.”

Randy blinked at her before looking at me. “Who the hell’s this?

“Your worst nightmare, prob’ly,” Olivia answered, making me want to double over with laughter, but I kept a straight face as I took a step closer to Randy.

“You dropped the ball yesterday. The right thing to do would have been to delete that post,” I said. “But I’m giving you another chance now. You can tell me who submitted it.”

“I’m sorry,” Randy said. “That’s not something I’m willing to do. You’re wasting your time.”

“Come on, Randy.”

“Look, it’s not my place to say,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “She has a right to her anonymity.”

“She?” I stared at him.

Randy shifted on his feet. “She, he. Whatever,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not like I gave it away. Half the population of Woodvale is female.”

I shook my head, knowing he was right. It wasn’t like that narrowed it down much.

But Olivia fell silent beside me, her eyebrows pulling together as she stared at the gravel. After a moment, she looked up at Randy’s face and said one word. “Elaine.”

I turned toward her. “What?”

“Was it Elaine Devers?” Olivia asked Randy.

He stared back at her with his jaw tight, his cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink. “I just told you, I’m not giving you a name.”

“You don’t have to,” Olivia said. “I just guessed. And I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Olivia, why do you think it’s her?” I asked, shooting her a confused look.

“Because. She eats lunch with some of the interns in the break room like she’s one of us. They could’ve told her, or maybe she overheard Isaiah.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I was struck with the memory of Marco venting to Elaine about the internship program weeks ago. The way she’d nodded along like she’d been waiting for someone else to say it.

She wasn’t a fan of Graham. And, apparently, not a fan of me, either.

I turned back to Randy. “Tell me if it was Elaine.”

Randy shrugged. “This is getting ridiculous. I’ve got a brake job to get to. See ya.”