I dragged my shirt against my eyes. Even though they stung, and my head was cloudy from crying, I felt indescribably lighter. “I think,” I said carefully, “because we never really talked about the heavy stuff, some part of me worried that if I tried, I’d push you away. And I couldn’t lose you again. Our relationship felt fragile, and that hurt more than anything.”
She squeezed my hands. “Hear this: you cannot lose me. There’s no one in this world I love more. You’re my little sister, Alexis. You’re the greatest gift life ever gave me.”
When I pressed my hands to my face, she got up and ran to the bathroom, returning with a box of tissues. I took them gratefully, and while I dabbed my eyes, she glanced at my TV.
“Hey, that’s mom’s commercial.” Lee stared, then turned to me with a questioning look. “You and Logan...”
“I love him,” I said, unable to keep it inside.
Her eyebrows flew up. “You say thisnow?”
“Lee!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
I looked at the screen, where past Logan gave past me a tender look. “I think he had feelings for me, too. But I was so convinced it wasn’t possible, I wouldn’t let myself see it.”
She flopped back on the couch. “He certainlylookslike a man with feelings.” She whistled. “Damn. What a time to fall in love, right in the middle of the biggest race of your life. I guess that explains why he blew up his career for you.”
We sat side by side, heads back, looking at the screen.
“He always put me first,” I said. “From the beginning. All I had to do was tell him education was important to me, and he let me co-own his campaign. He told me to date Will because he thought me being happy was more important than him staying safe. And then he took the blame for those photographs even though letting people think I cheated would’ve saved him.”
“Oof.” Lee winced. “That stacks up.”
“I was so convinced I wasn’t enough for him that anytime I thoughtmaybe there’s something here, I told myself I was doing my normal thing of wanting too much from people.”
Lee shrugged. “Itisa bad habit to keep expecting things from people who always let you down. You used to do that a lot.”
“Like with Chris.”
“Exactly. But it’s not a bad thing to put your heart on the line with someone who has a track record of showing up. That’s when you can be vulnerable without being a doormat.”
I groaned. “Why do I have to learn every lesson too late? Now if Logan wins the election by some miracle, I won’t be allowed to talk to him because I’m toxic. And if he loses, I’ll always be the person who cost him his dream. It’s lose-lose. I’m in love with someone I can never have.”
Lee reached over and squeezed my hand. “I may be new to doling out wisdom, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people have to come to things in their own time. You had to change your relationship with yourself before you ever would’ve been happy with someone else, even Logan. And really, when people love each other, things have a way of working out. You can trust me. I’m your big sister.”
40
The Second Debate
Yes, technically I’d promised to stay far away from Logan. But ifmy brief foray into politics had taught me anything, it was that there was always a loophole. I figured as long as no one everknewI’d attended his second and final debate, that was as good as not going. Which is why I’d come to the Palmer Event Center in full disguise.
“Name?” asked the matronly woman behind the registration desk.
“Ruby Dangerfield.”
She rifled through the lanyards until she found it. “Here you go, Ruby.” She smiled. “I love seeing young people participate in our country’s grand democratic tradition.”
Feeling buoyed by her approval—I was a simple creature, alas—I put on the lanyard and let myself get caught up in the crowd. The Palmer Center was much bigger than where they’d held the first debate. Lee had told me the audience demand was so high this time around that the debate organizers had decided to switch to a larger venue. Not only were there tons of people, but the atmosphere felt buzzy and electric, almost like a concert. Clearly, people loved drama, and if nothing else, the gubernatorial race had served that up on a silver platter. At least Logan could take heart knowing his public implosion had enticed more people to engage with politics.
The crowd was perfect for hiding in. I’d borrowed a blond wig from Lee—refusing to let her tell me why she owned it—and wore my blue-light glasses and one of my old cardigan sets, cosplaying as a blonde me before the campaign makeover. I kept my head ducked as I found a seat in the back, sinking lower when I spotted Nora and Cary slide into the front row right before the curtains lifted. From that moment on, my heart was a runaway train. This was the final debate. If Logan repeated his last performance, he was done for.
The lights flashed and the announcer introduced Logan and Governor Mane, who strode out to applause and a swelling rendition of “America the Beautiful.” When the crowd settled, one of the moderators, a UT professor, directed the first question to the governor.
“Governor Mane, what do you plan to do about the state’s rising unemployment rate?”
The governor grinned and adjusted his signature bolo tie. “You know, professor, I’m proud of my tax incentive plan that makes Texas attractive to big businesses. We’ve had a lot of success getting corporations to relocate their plants to Texas, and I’m going to build on that. More plants means more jobs. And also—”
