“And when the feature is done, what happens then?”The point in my voice has dulled, not because I’ve accepted my fate, but because acceptance is inevitable.
“If we execute this properly, you’ll be back on Trintol without any heat.”His gaze softens, the professional mask slipping enough to remind me he’s still the man who believed in me when I was a junior reporter chasing thin leads.Back when not even my siblings—when Cary was still alive—fully understood why I took this job.
“We’re not burying this, Grace.”
“You better not be.”
A faint smile ghosts across his mouth.“We only get one shot.”He gestures toward the door, the movement sharp and final.“Go.Pack.See you in six weeks.”
“What?”The floor tilts beneath me.“Six weeks for a profile?”
“Read the email.”He drags a hand down his face, his skin pulling tight under the fluorescent lights.“Buchanan, we’re done here.”
His dismissal hangs in the air, heavy and immovable.We hold each other’s gaze in a quiet standoff.I could push harder, argue until my voice fractures, but the silence between us says everything: I won’t win this one.
“Fine.”I nod, rising as jittery energy hums beneath my skin.
I walk toward the elevator, the heavy carpet muffling my steps, unable to shrug off this sensation of surrender.I’m banished from LA, but there’s a bright side—the Trintol investigation is still alive.
The silver elevator doors reflect a tired version of myself, and for one reckless moment, the idea of leaving for good flickers through me.I could start over somewhere new, somewhere that doesn’t carry this constant whisper of loss and unfinished business.
The thought is as tempting as it is absurd.
The elevator doors slide open, I step inside and press the button for the lobby, shaking off the thought of running away.
We only get one shot.
If I want mine, I’ll play along.I’ll spend six weeks in a small town I’ve never heard of, profiling a man the world calls a hero, and I’ll write the hell out of this feature.
I’m not out of the game.I’ve only been moved to a different square on the board, and before I know it, I’ll be back.
Chapter2
Maddox
“Maddox—ack.”Katie jerks back from the ladder, arms flailing as a soggy clump of leaves hits the mud near her boots.
“Hand on the ladder.”My voice carries down from the edge of the roof.
She shoots me a dark look before clamping her fingers back around the metal rail.“Seriously?You almost nailed me.”
“Sorry.”I start down, boots slipping on the last rung.The sunlight is thinning and so is my patience with this roof.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were aiming for me.”She bats at my leg.
“I was aiming for the ground.”I hold up both hands, streaked with muck and pine needles.“But if you keep hitting me…”
“Don’t you dare.”Her tone shifts as her attention lifts overhead.“All right.What are we dealing with?”
“It’s bad.”
My younger sister winces.“How bad?”
“We need a new roof.Should’ve happened years ago.I’m surprised the laundry room’s the only thing leaking.”
“Mom doesn’t have that kind of money.”Her teeth catch on the inside of her cheek.“Raf and I don’t either.Maybe we sell the house, and Mom comes to live?—”
“No.”My breathing slows, lessening the weight of elephant on my chest.“We’re not selling.I’ve got it.”