Something in my voice made her smile. "Good. Now go home and get some rest. If this storm tracks our way, none of us will be sleeping much later in the week."
The drive home took me past downtown where the evening crowd was just starting to emerge. Restaurants were filling up, and people were laughing on patios, completely unaware that in seventy-two hours they might be boarding up windows and evacuating.
My apartment was a small but comfortable one-bedroom on the third floor with a view of the park. I'd spent the past eight months making it mine with bright throw pillows, plants that somehow survived my erratic schedule, and photos of friendsand family, though I'd cut Callan out of the ones with me. I'd kept my college rowing pics on one shelf. That was back when I had more free time.
I heated up leftovers and settled on the couch with my laptop. I should have been reviewing tomorrow's script, but instead I found myself googling Dawson.
There wasn't much apart from a brief bio on the station's website and a few mentions in articles about local weather events. I studied one photo from a charity 5K where he looked deeply uncomfortable in a race number.
There was nothing about his personal life and he didn't appear to have a social media presence. It was as though he'd deliberately made himself invisible outside of work and I wondered why that was.
My phone rang. Carys's face filled the screen.
"Tell me you're not googling the weather guy."
I closed my laptop hoping I didn't look guilty. "How did you know?"
"Because I know you. And because you have that tone in your texts. The one that means you're catching feelings." Carys was bouncing up and down, accompanied by the unmistakable background noise of a spinning class. She wasn't even out of breath.
"I'm not. I'm just... curious."
She laughed. "Parker, you brought the man food and you negotiated a partnership handshake. You're practically courting him."
"People in the twenty-first century don't court. We date."
"Semantics. The point is, you like him."
I leaned back against the couch cushions. "What if I do? He barely tolerates me most days."
"The Parker Fleetwood I know doesn't give up that easily. Besides, I've seen the broadcast clips you send me. The way he looks at you? That's not barely tolerating."
"That's him wishing I'd let him give twenty-minute lectures on atmospheric pressure."
"Nope." She popped that P hard. "He's hoping you notice he exists as more than just the station's meteorologist."
The words were both warm and terrifying. "I'm not ready."
"You've been not ready for eight months. At some point, not ready becomes an excuse." Carys's voice softened. "Callan was an asshole who didn't deserve you. Don't let him take away your ability to see when someone good is right in front of you."
After we hung up, I sat in the growing darkness of my apartment. Carys was right. I'd been using my broken engagement as a shield and protecting myself from the possibility of getting hurt again.
But Dawson wasn't Callan. He was grumpy and particular and sometimes frustrated me beyond belief, but he was also genuine. What you saw was what you got. He didn't play games or lie.
And I couldn't ignore how my body reacted to him, along with the catch in my breath when he stood too close and the warmth that spread through me when he smiled, rare as that was.
My phone buzzed with an email from the station. Dawson had sent updated storm models to the whole team, along with a detailed breakdown of projected impacts. Even in an email, his passion for his work came through. He cared so deeply about getting it right and trying to keep people safe.
I found myself smiling at the screen.
Tomorrow, we'd start preparing for potential hurricane coverage. We'd be spending long hours together and put trust in each other to serve the viewers.
Maybe Carys was right and not ready was just an excuse. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding behind my professional smile and acknowledge what had been building between us since that second week.
The storm was coming in more ways than one.
I pulled up the weather models Dawson had sent, studying the projected path. If this hurricane made landfall anywhere near us, we'd be looking at dangerous conditions. There'd be flooding, power outages and potential evacuations.
And through all of it, I'd be standing beside Dawson, translating his expertise for viewers who needed to know how to keep their families safe.
