Page 180 of Empire State Enemies

Now three interviews down and it’s clear—Vallure PR is the skunk of the PR world. Just drop the name and watch people physically recoil as if they’ve just smelled something rotten. By now, HR’s across the city are probably using my résumé as part of their morning comedy routine.

I’m doing a stellar job of pretending I’m not on the brink of a meltdown because I’ve quit without a backup plan. Panicking is off the table, so I’ve shoved that ball of anxiety into the deepest, darkest part of my psyche, right next to my dreams of ever finishing that psych course.

I haven’t broken the news to Mom about quitting yet. I filled Grace in though, and had to slap on a smile despite her look of total alarm.

Grace peeks out from her room just as I’m kicking off my pointy heels, each one leaving a blister—trophies from the interview circuit.

“How’d it go?” she asks, eyes wide with sisterly concern. “Think you have a shot?”

“Maybe,” I mutter, sinking into the couch. “They weren’t exactly fans of Vallure.” Talk about an understatement.

She plops down next to me, her face all scrunched up in worry. “Then they’re missing out. You’re the hardest worker I know. Any company would be lucky to have you. You’re like a creativity ninja!”

A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “You’re biologically required to say that, but I’ll take it. I’ll take any compliment I can get at this point.”

Grace scrubs at a hopeless stain on our coffee table, brows furrowed in concentration.

Then she stops, hitting me with that look—the kind that’s either about to unveil some grand life plan or debate the merits of ordering General Tso’s chicken again. With Grace, it’s always a coin toss.

“So, about what Mom was talking about, moving to Baltimore . . . hear me out. It’s not the end of the world. They’ve opened up a NexiHub there, and I can transfer my final classes. My internship’s done, and I’ve only got a few months of school left anyway. Plus, they have Taco Bell,” she adds, like fast-food is a key factor in life decisions.

I stare at her, floored. “You can’t be serious.”

She just shrugs. “I’m kinda getting on board with it. You know the FBI’s main office is there? I might land a job in their IT department! I could be like Penelope Garcia fromCriminal Minds.”

Her optimism makes me smile despite it all.

“Gracie,” I start, voice catching. She’s actually considering this crazy plan, for my sake. She has an amazing job offer from a prestigious company that will be gold dust on her CV. But here she is, ready to leave it all for some Taco Bell and a long shot at the FBI. That’s real sister love.

I’m supposed to be protecting her, not the other way around. This role reversal guts me.

Tears betray me, rolling down my cheeks. I swipe at them angrily, pissed at my own vulnerability. “You’re too kind, Gracie, trying to make things easier for me. But I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of us. You’re still in college, for crying out loud.”

She scoots closer, giving my leg a comforting nudge. “That’s total BS, and you know it. We’re family; we got each other’s backs, always. I’m not a kid anymore. Plus, think of all the hot feds we could meet in Baltimore.”

She keeps nudging me until I let out a small, tearful laugh.

“We can’t leave New York. You’ve got your job with Quinn & Wolfe lined up. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I’m not letting you pass it up.”

But she stands her ground with the same stubborn determination that once made her refuse to eat anything but Lucky Charms for a month. “There’ll be other chances, sis.”

The tears start flowing faster. Suddenly, the weight of everything I’ve been carrying hits me like a ton of bricks.

For so long, I’ve shouldered everything—the bills, taking care of Mom, being there for Grace. As the older sister, I convinced myself it was my responsibility to be the rock, the one who always had her shit together.

But here’s Grace, considering flipping her whole world upside down just to make my load a bit lighter. And I’ve got to admit, there’s a part of me that’s embarrassingly relieved she’s willing to throw her plans out the window to help me out.

Seems like Connor isn’t the only one who’s been building walls around himself.

The irony is that Connor would be the ideal person to talk through my issues with. He’s strong, logical, steady. Sometimes, you just need a solid rock to lean on. In Ireland, I felt like I had that, if only for a brief moment. He gave me that sense of security, then pulled it away.

I take a deep breath. But I realize, I do have a strong person to face this with. Grace.

???

“Night, Grace,” I call as she heads to bed.

I shift my laptop onto my knee, bracing myself. Time to rip off the Band-Aid and search Connor’s new “professor” hookup. I’ve waited six days, but I’m ready now. Or at least as ready as I’ll ever be. Better to see them together on my own terms than be blindsided by some glossy magazine pic while checking out at the grocery store.