Page 27 of My Cruel Salvation

I exhale, then nod. I get it; I do. But at the same time, I can’t help but think about Devlin who’s risked his actual life in Saint’s Angels to try and balance the scales of justice. He’s stuck his neck out time and time again. That’s not something Roger would ever do. Hell, it’s not something most people would do. It doesn’t make them bad people, but it does make Devlin extraordinary.

I realize I’m actually smiling a little when Roger presses a hand to my shoulder, and I don’t shake it off. “You’re going to be fine, Ellie.”

Once again, I think about Devlin. I’m not a woman who’d be happy living in the shadow of her man, but I also know that he will always be there for me, ready to reach out and help me over any stumbling blocks I might encounter as I figure out my next step. “I know,” I tell Roger. “I’m going to be just fine.”

We hug, and I promise to stay in touch. I mean it, too. Maybe I should be angrier that he’s siding so easily with Franklin, but I’m not. I get why I was fired and why Roger toed the party line.

And at the end of the day, as much as I love my job, I love Devlin more. Now, I just need to figure out what to do with my slightly tarnished journalism degree.

It’s something I’m thinking about as I load my few personal things into a cardboard box. It’s Sunday, and so there’s only a few people around, a fact for which I’m grateful. I like all my co-workers, but I never really bonded with anyone.

The closest I came to having an actual professional relationship with was with Corbin Dailey, and that was based on mutual dislike.

Even so, I glance over at his desk and realize that I’m feeling a little melancholy. He might have been my arch nemesis, but he’d helped out where it counted. And the truth is he’s a damn good reporter.

I head over to his desk, planning to leave a note, when I hear his smooth voice from across the room. “Snooping for a lead? Damn, Holmes, I never thought you’d stoop so low.”

I look up, prepared to defend myself, only to see he’s grinning. Strangely, I find myself grinning back.

“Let me guess. The revelation that Saint’s the son of the world’s biggest a-hole drove you from him, and now you’re moving back to New York to be a pain in my ass.”

“Not exactly.”

He comes closer and leans against the desk. He’s got white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes that are focused on me like two lasers. After a moment, he clears his throat. “Listen, I really am sorry about what happened. He seems like a good guy. Hell of a thing to get slapped with on his big night.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It was.” I glance around, then peer under his desk before rising up with a shrug.

“What was all that?”

“Just wondering what rabbit hole I fell down. I’m feeling a little like Alice.”

He shrugs. “Nah. I just—oh, fuck. Franklin cut you loose, didn’t he? The prick.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I want to melt into the floor. “Yeah.” My voice sounds raw and I hate—hate—that it’s Corbin who’s seeing me like this.

“I’m really sorry,” he says, with an unfamiliar gentleness.

I sniffle and reach for a tissue. “It would have been nice if you’d told me years ago that you weren’t a complete dick, you know that, right?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He nods to my box filled with papers and knickknacks. “Come on, I’ll carry that down for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, then fall in step beside him.

“So what now?” he asks.

“Now I go back to California. I was already planning to stay out there anyway.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Soon. We were planning to stay at least a week, but what with the media explosion we need to get back as soon as I can find a realtor to handle a sublet. But after that, we’re out of here.”

“Sorry you’re not getting your New York vacation with your man.”

I pause on the sidewalk outside The Spall’s building. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Hey, I may be a jerk, but I’m not an asshole. You’re a solid reporter, even if you did manage to snag most of the good stories because Roger had a hard-on for you.”

“He did not!”