He studies me for a minute, something changing in his expression. “Prove them wrong, Liz. If this is what you want, I think you should go after it. You have an in with Christine. Most people who want a future in politics could only dream of having a connection like that. Do it.”

“Help the first female governor of Indiana become the first female president of the United States?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Because I need to quit. Because I screwed up again, and this time it could ruin a marriage.

“Don’t quit,” Sam says. “Stay on and work for my dad, and if a few months of being overworked, underpaid, and barely appreciated doesn’t scare you away from the grunt work of politics, join Christine.”

“I should quit,” I say quietly. I can hear Connor’s deep voice up front as he laughs and talks with Mr. Bradshaw. “I was an idiot to take the job and think last summer wouldn’t matter.”

“You weren’t an idiot. You were after something you wanted. Don’t give it up because of him.”

Chapter Sixteen

Sam

“Do you understand what this could do to your life?” I ask, jabbing my finger at the computer screen. “Do you get it?”

Ryann lifts her chin and her eyes go a little harder. She’s a stubborn little shit, kind of like me. And kind of like me, she’s not really good at admitting when she’s wrong. “You’re overreacting,” she says, tossing her pretty blond hair.

“What if they’d gotten pictures, Ryann? What if there were pictures proving that you were having an affair with a man more than twice your age?”

“Calm down, Sam. There aren’t pictures, okay? I’m not an idiot.”

I rub the back of my neck, where my tension has been gathering since Hanna sent me the link this morning. Hanna’s used to keeping her eye on the New Hope Tattler, since her rocker fiancé is one of the pseudo-tabloid’s favorite topics. But this morning, the website wasn’t reporting on Nate Crane for once. Instead, it was dragging my sister’s name through the dirt, implying that she’s sleeping with some old art professor at Sinclair University.

The second she arrived at the bank for her teller shift this afternoon, I called her into my office.

“What are you going to do if Mom and Dad see this?”

“Deny, deny, deny. I come from the same family you do. I know how to play the game.” When I glare at her, she shrugs as if she doesn’t care, but her eyes change and I know the truth. She’s terrified of our parents finding out. “It’s not like you didn’t do it at my age.”

I freeze for a minute. “What do you know about what I did at your age?”

“Enough. Trust me. More than enough. Yuck.”

I didn’t think anyone knew about that, but that’s a conversation for another day. “This is different.”

“Yeah, because I’m a girl. Why is that fair?”

I sigh and sag into my chair. I’m not sure it is fair, but the idea of that skeezy old man touching my little sister still makes my stomach churn. Mom and Dad are all about keeping up appearances. Can’t be the most influential New Hope family if people don’t respect you.

“Our lives aren’t our own anymore, are they?” she asks.

“No. They never were, even before his gubernatorial bid.”

“How’s it going with Lizzy?”

I haven’t seen her all week. She’s been avoiding me. She sends my calls to voicemail and keeps her text replies brief. “I’m twenty-seven years old and I’ve never had a real relationship before. I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

Ryann snorts then throws her hand over her mouth. “Oh. Sorry. You’re serious.”

“I’m serious,” I grumble.

“Well, have you asked her out, stupid?”

“Yes, she was my date for Hanna’s wedding.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not have you asked her to go with you to an event you have to go to anyway. Have you asked her on a date that is just about the two of you? A real date. She volunteers at the animal shelter tomorrow. You should come by, help her walk the dogs, and ask her on a date.”

“Think she’ll go for it?”

She shrugs. “She seems to like your ugly mug, so probably, but you’re kind of missing the point.”

“What point?”

“You want a relationship? You have to put yourself out there and risk being rejected.”

* * *

Liz

The Humane Society of New Hope is full of old strays unlikely to ever be adopted. The signs on their cages are like the descriptions on real-estate listings, trying to make them sound fancier than they are. Shepherd-Lab mix, Husky-Corgi mix, Poodle-Lab mix. In all cases, mutt would be more honest. These are dogs without homes. A lot of them were simply dropped here—people like to come to the country to drop dogs. It makes them feel better about abandoning them. As if they’re just trying to give the dogs a good life, when the truth is they found the dog to be too inconvenient or their infatuation wore off once they weren’t cute puppies anymore.

“Welcome back,” Ryann says when I walk in the door. “They’re waiting for you.”

She hands me the keys that open the locks on the kennels and a pair of leashes, and I enter into the loud hallway lined with kennels of the older dogs. There are a few puppies around the corner in the next room, but the puppies get plenty of playtime and attention. These raggedy old mutts, though? They need me.