Mom spots me and waves a spoon.“Go clean up, honey.Dinner’s almost ready.”
Grace turns toward me, expression open and bright, and whatever moment we’re in deepens in a way neither of us is ready to name.
I nod and turn to head down the hall, the sound of their voices following me.Grace fits here.Too easily.Too naturally.
It’s everything I didn’t want to feel and can’t seem to walk away from.
Chapter20
Grace
Before I shower, I hover outside Blane’s door, going over the last time I spoke to him.Only last night, after he’d walked in on Maddox and me.I helped him take the last of his gear to his room, dropping his camera bag on his bed, then faced him before he could get comfortable.
My voice was easy, expression neutral.“Whatever you think you saw—and whatever you think it means—stay out of it, Blane.This is my assignment.My subject.My call.”
I might’ve come on too strong, but I didn’t appreciate his veiled threats.Blane tilted his head, doing that thing where he pretended to consider what I said.“I was only helping you see how things might look.And Toby might think so, too.”
There was nothing subtle about his subtext, and I balled my fists at my sides.“Toby trusts me to bring him the best story.That’s how it’s always worked.”I let the silence stretch just long enough.“Don’t test me on this.”
Nodding, he changed the subject, and I thought he’d gotten the message.But clearly, he hasn’t, not when his comments keep coming, and his sidelong looks keep hitting their mark.And accessing my files—even though I’d talked to him about it this morning, I didn’t get the sense he’d do what was needed.I needed to make things clear.
And that’s why I erase any hesitation, knock on his door, and march into his room when he opens it.
“I want to thank you for today.”It’s the truth, though I don’t feel like handing out compliments.
I watch him puff up, chest out, smug smirk springing onto his lips.Pride consumes all of him, and that’s my cue to continue.“But we need to get a few things straight.I meant what I said about the shared drive.I thought I’d removed your access after Mensah wrapped.Apparently not.But you knew that, and you went in anyway.”
He opens his mouth.
“Don’t.”My voice is flat.“There are active investigations on that drive.Sources.Contacts.Things that have nothing to do with you or this assignment.You had no right.”I hold his gaze until he looks away, glad I’m saying everything I wanted to this morning but couldn’t in front of Maddox.
“I’ve removed you from the drive, I made sure of it.But you need to delete any files you downloaded.And don’t tell me you haven’t.”I don’t know for sure if he has the files on his personal drive, but I’m covering my bases.“And if I find out you’ve done anything with them, we’ll be having a very different conversation.”
His confidence slips.“The access was still there.I assumed?—”
“We’ve been over this.You assumed wrong,” I cut him off, not wanting his excuses or justifications.“And while we’re at it—stop.Just stop with the ‘Gracie’ routine, the innuendoes and loaded comments.Stop with all of it.”
“Grace—”
“Blane, we were a mistake, and I’ve moved on.So have you.”While I don’t want to make this personal, he’s taking liberties because he thinks he can, because we have slept together.It’s fucking ancient history, and it ends here.
I soften my voice.“Let’s be great colleagues who respect each other and work well together to deliver the best damn assignment ever.”
He presses his lips together and glances away, shifting from side to side like he’s weighing his options.
“Well, that’s easy.”He flashes me his arrogant smile.“We are the best at what we do.”
I force what I hope sounds like an easy-breezy laugh and nod.“Great.See you at dinner.”
The door shuts behind me, and while I don’t quite feel relieved—it wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t apologize, and Blane never would—I hope he means what he said.
Truthfully, I wish I didn’t need his eye and his experience, but I’ve solved the Blane problem and plan on enjoying the night.
By the time Meredith calls us for Sunday dinner, the Hartley house smells like rosemary, garlic, and something warm and comforting.I pause at the top of the stairs, pulse kicking up at the sound of laughter drifting from the kitchen.Real, easy laughter between mother and son, people who genuinely like each other.The good kind.The enviable kind.
Maddox’s, especially.
It’s deeper than I expect, rougher, pulled from a place in him I rarely see.He doesn’t laugh easily—I’ve figured that out in the short time I’ve been under his roof—and hearing it now does something strange and unwelcome to my chest.A pinch, a tug, a soft spreading warmth I pretend isn’t there.