After he left, I sat in the workshop surrounded by half-finished furniture and tried to convince myself this was better. That I was protecting myself from worse pain down the road. That three days wasn't enough to build a life on.
But the cabin smelled like her. The bed still had her scent on the pillows. And the workshop felt empty in a way it never had before she showed up and made me believe in possibilities I'd given up on.
I picked up my phone three times to call her. Put it down three times without dialing.
If she wanted to come back, she knew where I was. If three days had mattered to her the way it mattered to me, she'd figure it out.
I told myself that right up until I ended up in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, admitting that Kevin was right.
I'd let her go because I was too scared to believe I was worth fighting for.
And now I had no idea how to get her back.
Or if I even should.
Chapter 9
Kim
Pemberton’s office looked exactly the same as it had for six years. Same leather chairs, same mahogany desk, same framed degrees on the wall reminding everyone of his credentials. The only thing different was me.
I didn't knock. Just opened the door and walked in like I had every right to be there.
Pemberton looked up from his computer, surprise flickering across his face before he smoothed it into his usual condescending patience. "I'm pleased you came to your senses. This discovery could be quite significant for the department."
"For you, you mean."
"For all of us. Academic research is collaborative, as you know. Your contribution will be noted in the publication."
"My contribution." I let the words hang there. "The research you said wasn't worth pursuing. That contribution?"
"You found some interesting documents while on what was essentially a personal trip. The university's resources will now ensure proper authentication and analysis. Bradley has extensive experience with Underground Railroad research. He's the logical choice to lead the project."
"Bradley, who wasn't even supposed to go on this expedition. Bradley, who's never done original archival research in his life. That Bradley?"
Pemberton's voice took on an edge. "Bradley, who didn't chase a fantasy in the mountains."
"I had your approval for personal time. Dr. Mitchell had an emergency. You knew I was doing the research."
I'd spent six years being reasonable. Six years making myself invisible, grateful for scraps. Six years watching men like Pemberton take credit for work I'd done while telling me I should be thankful for the opportunity to serve.
"I quit."
The words came out calmer than I felt. Steady. Final.
Pemberton blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I quit. Effective immediately. You can continue taking credit for other people's work." I turned toward the door. "I'm done being invisible so you can feel important."
"You're being emotional. If you walk out now, you'll never work in this field again. I'll make sure of it."
I stopped, turned back. "You know what? I don't care. Six years I've spent making you look brilliant. Six years of my research, my discoveries, my work disappearing into footnotes with your name on top. If that's what it means to work in this field, then maybe this field isn't worth it."
"You're throwing away your career over wounded pride?"
"I'm reclaiming my career. There's a difference." I met his eyes. "The documents were discovered on private property, during my approved personal time, following my own research. The Vermont Historical Society is very interested in partnering with me directly. So is the property owner. You don't get to erase me from my own discovery just because that's what you've always done."
Pemberton's face hardened. "You signed an employment contract. Anything discovered during your employment belongs to the university."
