Page 88 of Under the Ink

“Nope.”

“Just double checking.”

And then she saw it.

A political yard sign, simple in its blue and white design, one that said simplyJacob Goodmanon top andClerk and Recorderbelow it.

“What the hell?”

“What’s up?”

For several long seconds, Naomi was frozen—but, instead of experiencing fear this time, it was anger. And she was so furious, she didn’t know that she could talk about it right now, at least not coherently. “Nothing.”

Sage’s voice was light, and she could hear a chuckle just waiting to come out. “That’s a pretty strong reaction tonothing.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

As they drove the rest of the way through town, Naomi took comfort in the fact that she didn’t see another sign for Jacob’s campaign. In fact, she didn’t see any other election signs at all. When were the primaries for local offices anyway?

She had no idea—and, although she’d never voted before, she thought she might sign up just to vote against that guy.

But wait. Where the hell was that vengefulness coming from? And was it any healthier than stuffing the emotions down?

Unlike earlier, Sage wasn’t commenting about each new song on his playlist—and Naomi knew that was because of her. For a time, though, the silence was welcome as they made their way down the mountain toward Colorado Springs.

Finally, though, she felt in control of her emotions enough to tell him what was on her mind. “So the guy who raped me…he’s running for an office in the county election. I saw a sign for it when we were driving through Winchester.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder you were pissed.” After a second, he said, “I thought you said the guy was going to college somewhere.”

When she’d seen him at the Coffee Stop in June, she’d thought either he was home for summer, but he’d been going long enough to graduate. Seeing his name on a sign confirmed that he was definitely home.

Forgood.

“I guess he’s done with that.”

After a few seconds, Sage asked, “How can I help?”

But he couldn’t…although it was sweet of him to ask. Nobody reallycouldhelp her. That time had passed. And there was no way in hell she was going to make a #metoo scene online. Not only did she not want attention on herself, but she didn’t think publicly calling Jacob out would make her feel better, regardless of if people believed her now.

Yeah…that ship had long ago sailed.

“You can help by swinging by the liquor store before we drop off the car.”

“Okay.” She didn’t like how he said it, because she could hear something that sounded like a mixture of disappointment and skepticism in his voice.

ButSagedidn’t get to choose how she dealt with those churning emotions…especially since now they felt closer to the surface than ever before.

She just hadn’t realized that she would drink so much that night on the bus that she’d pass out.

MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA

JULY 24

Another fantastic concert played for approximately twenty-thousand happy fans, many of whom were still filtering out of the arena had Sage smiling from ear to ear. It was nights like these that made touring so fun, that muted all the negative aspects of life on the road.

His working life was good. Actually,betterthan good. The last tour, Sage had spent a decent chunk of the time high or drunk, fucking as many girls as he could get his dick into, aided and abetted by several crew members, led by Jimmy. And now, Sage wanted none of that.

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