The answer moved through me so sharply that I had to set the pen down.
Zane might look at me and see Cascadia. He might see the folder and the pencil skirt and the office polish and decide every instinct he'd had about me keeping something from him had been right. He might hear Julian's name, the tires, the charge, the community service, and decide I was exactly the reckless woman his first assumption had warned him about.
He might not want me anywhere near his land, his garden, his lake, or his life.
But yesterday he'd signed my hours cleanly and kept his hands careful. At the lake, heat and water and sunlight had been the easy part. Afterward mattered more. Zane had sat beside me on the dock and said the work wouldn't change. He'd protected the line even after we'd crossed a different one.
If I hid this from him, I'd be choosing my own comfort over the one thing he'd trusted me near.
"I'm not sure," I said. "I'm doing it anyway."
Amanda nodded slowly. "Good."
That one word almost undid me.
I tucked the folded note into the inside pocket of my bag. Then I finished the packet. I checked every attachment. I scanned the set into the project folder. I flagged the broker materials with blue tabs and put the clean print set in Monica's inbox with a message.
Conflict concern re external broker. Need to discuss when available.
I didn't run.
I wanted to run.
I wanted to grab my bag, drive to the P-Patch, and pour the whole thing out before fear got its hands around my throat.
Instead, I returned to my desk and waited until Monica's door opened.
She stepped out with her phone still in one hand. "Daphne, did you finish the packet?"
"Yes. It's in your inbox. I flagged the broker materials and left you a note."
Monica looked at me more closely. "A note?"
"I have a conflict concern connected to the external broker."
Her posture changed. Not dramatic. Monica didn't do dramatic at work. Her shoulders settled, and her gaze sharpened like a door closing quietly.
"What kind of concern?"
I kept my hands still on the edge of my desk. "I know someone connected to the broker and the access language. I didn't know until I reviewed the packet."
"Connected how?"
"The owner of the adjacent McCrae parcel is my community service site supervisor."
Monica's eyes flickered once.
My clean little office world and my dirty little punishment stood in the same fluorescent hallway.
"Are you personally involved with him?" she asked.
The question was efficient, not cruel.
My cheeks burned anyway.
"I know him through the Larch Bend P-Patch," I said. "He supervises my court-ordered hours. I didn't know this project involved his land."
Monica was quiet for a second. "Have you discussed Cascadia's project materials with him?"
