Her admission makes my eyes widen.
She shrugs. “We’re only human, Winnie. I’ve spoken to Ashton, and he explained everything. I want you to know if I had any clue that he was associated with—”
“It’s fine,” I say to stop her from saying anything about my parents. I can only handle so much before the dam breaks again. “I mean, it’snotfine that he withheld that information. But I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve moved on.”
Well, as much as a person can in such a short amount of time. If I allow myself to stew on the past, it’ll pull me under until the current drowns me. I’ve let that happen far too often.
I don’t want to sink. I want to swim.
I want to thrive. Be happy. Be proud.
I will not let Ashton, Adam, or their family ruin everything that I’ve done for myself. I may be taking baby steps toward a better future, but they’re still steps forward.
Janel seems surprised. “Oh. Well, good then.” Her eyes move over my face before nodding, as if satisfied enough with my answer. “Since I have you, I wanted to see if there’s anything else that needs to be done for the gala. I’ve been keeping up with the backend of socials for him and working closely with his team to ensure that we filter out any old articles trying to resurface that could derail all the work he’s been doing recently. Now it’s just organizing the final details for this event.”
Every year, the Fairbanks Historical Association hosts a charity gala to raise funds for the city. They split the proceeds among various organizations that benefit the people of the city and the nonprofits within its borders, including a few soup kitchens and food pantries in the area. They host a black-tie event and sell tickets to attend so people can shake hands and take pictures with some of Fairbanks’s finest. And since this year is the first one we have a professional hockey team, I was able to get Thomas and a few of his teammates invited to rub elbows with government officials and pose for the public who are bound to attend games at Yokav Stadium later this year. It was his idea to include the others, and I happily went along with it.
More pro athletes means more ticket sales, which means higher funding that can be allocated to places like Our Open Table. And as fall grows closer, it would be perfect for the colder weather and holiday season, when people need food and shelter the most.
“There isn’t anything that needs to be done on our end besides having him show up to it,” I tell her. “When I last spoke to the organizer, they confirmed that Jesse Clarkson—the team’s captain—and one of their rookies, Richard Head, will also be inattendance. Mikhail Yokav is also going to be there since he’s a big donor to the Historical Association.”
I don’t need to point out that the association is a large influence on Fairbanks’s infrastructure. If the people running the city don’t approve of projects that can jeopardize the historical bones here, that means no stadium and no hockey team. Whatever number Yokav wrote on a check must have been astronomical.
Janel nods along. “Makes sense. He knows he needs to play into people’s favor.”
More like pay into it, but it’s all the same. “I’d say the only thing we need to be concerned about is how Mikhail and Thomas interact. But if the news articles circulating aren’t focused on the personal tension between the Fireflies’ owner and one of their players, then we should be okay.”
She writes a few things down in her notebook, probably reminders about the upcoming event, before looking up at me. “I’m sure both men know what’s at stake if things go awry. This will be the last event before the Fireflies’ first game, so I doubt Mr. Moskins will do anything to impact him starting.”
All very valid points, so I nod silently.
She glances at a Post-it note with a frown. “I could use your help on one thing,” she mentions, peeling it off her computer screen and sticking it to her desk. “It’s the strangest rumor I’ve seen yet about Moskins to date and came out of nowhere.”
My brows pinch. “What is it about?”
She passes me the paper, and I nearly choke on my spit when I see what’s scrawled there. She has a few websites where the article has appeared, as well as the sites that have referenced it.
“Why on earth would anybody say that Thomas Moskins just got out ofprison?” she asks aloud with a head shake.
I rub my lips together, and I clear my throat. “I don’t know,” I reply, sounding a little high-pitched. “Probably just someone who thought it would be funny to joke about.”
Janel sighs heavily as she gestures toward her screen. “The fact that people believe this garbage is ridiculous. This article says he went to prison for dealing drugs. When has he ever been seen doing drugs? Never.”
I wet my lips and set the note down. “You know how people are,” I reply, scratching my cheek. “They’ll say anything.”
She hums. “True.” She clicks a few more times before leaning back. “We’ll get them taken down. Thankfully, there aren’t many reports on it. People must realize there’s no evidence to back it up.”
I try my best not to fidget as I think about the way the waitress kept staring at him that day in the diner. I’d said what I did—that Thomas had just gotten out of prison as a joke—not for someone to take me seriously. It’d been to get a reaction only. Internally, I flinch.
But do I tell Janel where that rumor started? No. I add it to the growing list of secrets that I’m keeping from her. How long until the basket of lies overflows and she finds out everything?
I swallow, afraid of what will happen. She’ll have to fire me. She’ll be disappointed in giving me a chance to lead a case only for me to cross the biggest boundary I possibly can.
Janel’s frown reappears. “Are you okay?”
God only knows what my face looks like. “I am. Sorry. A little out of it, I guess.” I offer her the only semblance of truth I can. “I had to get up early to catch the bus on time. I’m still figuring out my car situation.”
Sympathy coats her upturned lips. “I forgot yours broke down. If you need any help, let me know. I know some people who sell decent used cars for cheap.”
