Page 79 of For All My Effort
“We could. Sebastian certainly has enough social ego to wield as justification.”
“But?” I asked, because I could sense it even if he didn’t say it.
“But, if you’re going to do this, I think it would have a stronger effect if it was preluded by Adam’s hand pushing you to speak. I was thinking about what Eve said, how the OC is keeping tabs on you but holding back on pressing charges against us…”
I sucked in a breath. I had completely forgotten about that. I’d been so busy dealing with the actual ramifications of my forced publicity that I’d forgotten the worst hadn’t come yet, that it was still hanging over my head like a hat you get so used to wearing you forget that it’s blocking the sun until you take it off. Then you’re fucking blinded by the brightness.
“We can’t do the interview,” I told him. “I’m not risking the OC pulling up charges against you.”
No way. Absolutely no way. I couldn’t even believe that Jackson was considering going through with this when my mates could wind up in jail for a decision I made. I was almost angry at him for being so willing to face the charges. But I was not going to be letting that happen.
“You don’t want to hear my plan?” he asked.
“What plan?”
“The one I made last night when Adam focused all his attention on Seb.”
“A plan that’s completely new and hasn’t been run by any of the others?”
“That’s the one.”
I wasn’t going to agree to it, I already knew that. Still, I figured agreeing to hear would be fine. Then I could point out all the plot holes. Except, rather than a loosely thrown together timeline of events, I realized why Jackson felt comfortable suggesting this path.
I couldn’t stop myself from interrupting with questions. “Is Eve even willing to work with us?”
“We won’t know until we ask, but I think so. She did come to warn you, that has to count for something.”
“And what happens if it all goes to shit? If the OC does press charges and Adam gets his votes and the public turns against me?”
“We leave.”
“Just like that?”
My breathing became heavier as the trail turned more into a hike than a walk. It was hard to think when I was doing my best to get my lungs to keep expanding and ignoring the dry scratch in my throat. No matter how much I drank, it was like my throat simply wasn’t getting any of the liquid goodness.
“Sometimes, you have to save yourself,” Jackson said.
I wanted to argue. Omegas weren’t rare, we were just hidden, forced into shadows and nooks and crannies. They needed someone to stand up for them, to be their voice, and demand to be seen. I’d always thought that was me—yet I’ve hated being in the limelight.
I could admit, even just to myself, that part of my resistance to not doing Adam’s interview came from the memory of the reporters surrounding me. My mate protected me then, but it felt like without him, I would have been trampled. They would have simply watched me crawl into a corner and freak out without offering a helping hand. It was strange to look at strangers and realize they didn’t care.
Maybe that’s where Jackson’s insistence on being behind the scenes truly came from. Another version of protecting me, even from myself.
For so long, I wanted to be the person that made the difference, and here I was, rejecting that offer.
“If I did the interview, what’s to stop Adam from refusing to release it?” I asked, almost panting between each word.
“He won’t have a choice. It’ll be live.”
Needing to think, I stopped walking, my mate easily staying with me. Despite the chilly air, I was sweating, and a good portion of my first water bottle was already gone. I’d been so distracted with our discussion that I’d barely taken in the view beyond watching where I was stepping.
It was beautiful, the way nature always was. Personally, I preferred to see the beauty of trees and animals and whatnot from my airconditioned home without the sweat and bugs.
Jackson swung his backpack around and pulled out a healthy bar for us to snack on while we enjoyed the temporary break in silence. Just this slight pause and I felt like my brain was working properly again.
“If I did this interview, what do you think will happen?” I stared at my mate, not so much as glancing away from his gaze. “Not what you hope will happen, what do you think will happen?”
“I think … Adam will lose the vote. I think every time an issue comes up for omegas, you’ll be expected to play politics. I think you’re going to lose a lot of your private life. Your followers will be as plentiful as your opponents. I worry how you’ll take the stress if you do this, and I worry how you’ll handle the guilt if you don’t. I also think that you’ll probably drop your classes.”