She deleted it.
She tried again.
I think I just need today.
Harper responded almost immediately.
Okay. I’ll check in tomorrow. And Savannah?
Savannah waited.
You don’t have to earn rest.
Her throat tightened.
Thanks, she typed, and meant more than she could say.
She set the phone down and leaned back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling again. The day stretched ahead of her, unstructured and unfamiliar.
Forty Five
Tilly woke up already rehearsing the apology.
Not the words exactly. The feeling of it. The posture. The part where they didn’t get defensive or try to explain themselves out of the hole they’d dug. They knew they’d screwed up. They knew they hadn’t trusted Savannah when she’d given them no real reason not to.
They just needed to say it right.
They stopped at the bodega on the corner on the way in, the one that always smelled like overripe fruit and coffee. They stood in front of the flower buckets longer than necessary, hands shoved in their jacket pockets, pretending they were deciding between options when really they were trying not to overthink it.
They picked a small bunch. Nothing dramatic. No roses. Something simple. Yellow and white. The kind of flowers that saidI’m here, notforgive me immediately.
The woman at the register raised an eyebrow.
“Someone in trouble?” she asked.
Tilly huffed quietly. “Yeah.”
She wrapped the stems in a paper towel she found in the car and balanced them carefully on the passenger seat, like they might tip over if she hit a pothole wrong.
By the time they pulled into the station lot, their nerves had settled into something steady. They could do this. They would do this.
Savannah would listen.
Inside, the newsroom was already buzzing. Monitors hummed. Producers moved with purpose. A couple of crews laughed near the assignment desk. It all looked the same as always, which made the flowers in Tilly’s hand feel louder than they should have.
They scanned instinctively.
Savannah’s desk was empty.
At first, Tilly didn’t think anything of it. She was probably in makeup. Or grabbing coffee. Or stuck in a meeting.
Tilly dropped their bag by the gear lockers and kept the flowers tucked close as they checked the schedule board. No Savannah listed on any of the morning blocks.
Their chest tightened.
They tried her desk again. Still empty. The chair pushed in. Monitor dark.
“Hey,” Tilly said to the first person who walked past. “Have you seen Savannah?”
