Page 93 of Follow Me Down

“That’s the problem, he’s not bluffing. He proved that when he had us arrested.”

“I could talk to my dad. Maybe see if there’s something he can do.”

“No.” I shake my head, knowing that will likely make things worse. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Fallon.” I tense at the sound of my father’s voice, turning to find him quickly approaching. “There’s a few people I’d like you to meet.” He stops in front of me and Christy.

“On that note, I’m going to go mingle. We’ll catch up later.”

“Okay.” I nod, turning toward my father.

“You look nice,” he tells me as I follow him across the room.

I didn’t buy anything at the mall, mainly because I wasn’t in the mood to try on dresses and pretend like my life wasn’t in complete shambles. As such, I’m wearing a beige A-line dress that I already had. It’s nice and used to be one of my favorites. Now it feels more like a uniform. A mask to hide the hurricane raging inside me.

I nod, not giving him a real response as we stop in front of a few people grouped together, talking about something I don’t care enough to take note of.

“Tom,” my father interrupts, drawing the attention of an older, balding man, dressed in a navy-blue suit. He turns, smiling when his eyes come to me.

“This must be Fallon. I must say, you weren’t lying. She really is a beauty.” The way he looks at me makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Then again, I’ve grown accustomed to the feeling over the years.

Most of these old men look at you like you’re a piece of meat rather than a real person. They think just because they slap on a fancy suit it somehow makes them less creepy. It doesn’t.

“Tom here is running for Mayor in the fall,” my father tells me.

“And with your father’s endorsement, I’m hoping to take the polls by storm.” He clasps my father on the shoulder.

“Where’s your boy tonight?” my father asks.

“He’s actually right over there.” He gestures into the great room. “Come. I’ll introduce you,” he tells us, pivoting before heading in that direction.

I take a steady breath in, trying to keep my fake smile in place as we follow him.

I’m used to having people around. Even before my father became Governor, we were always hosting parties, attending events, preparing for my father’s eventual run. Once he won, though, it became an entirely different type of chaos. Imagine living in a home where people come to visit, take photos, and even do field trips. It’s insanity. It takes lack of privacy to a whole new level. Even though the top two floors are not open to the public, it’s still weird having people constantly come into your home.

“Austin.” Tom steps up behind who I assume is his son. He’s in deep conversation with a blonde girl around the same age as me. “I’d like you to meet Governor Buckley,” he says as the boy turns.

The instant his face comes into view the ground beneath my feet starts to quake.It’s him.The Austin from that night at the lake house. I do a double take, certain that my eyes are playing tricks on me.

“Governor Buckley.” He reaches for my father’s hand. The sound of his voice causes my skin to prickle.

I remember it so clearly, only that night it was void of the fake pleasantness it currently possesses. My stomach stirs and my palms begin to sweat.

I never expected to see him again, let alone standing in the middle of my father’s house.

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” He smiles and the action makes me feel like I’m seconds away from spewing vomit all over his perfectly polished shoes.

“You as well, son. Your father tells me you’re attending Columbia in the fall.”

“Yes, sir. Pre-law.”

“A lawyer.” My father nods his head in approval. “A man after my own heart.”

“Yes, sir. That’s the plan.”

I swear if he says sir one more time I might haul off and hit him right in the nose.

In this light, he seems harmless. Well groomed, perfectly styled hair, pressed suit. A boy a father could be proud of. But I know that under his put together façade lies a monster. I can still see the look on his face as he held me down, the wild unhinged way his blue eyes cut through the darkness of the night.

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