Savannah felt her pulse jump.
Storm outside.
Storm inside.
A storm between them that neither of them would acknowledge.
But she could feel it.
And she knew Tilly could too.
Savannah stood and crossed the newsroom to refill her water bottle, trying to shake the nerves building in her chest. As she passed the edit bays, she heard Tilly’s voice inside one of them, low and steady as they reviewed audio levels. She didn’t stop. She didn’t look. But the sound of their voice hit her in a way she wasn’t prepared for, a soft crack under the noise of the storm coverage. She moved faster than necessary back toward her desk.
By the time she sat down again, the windows were dusted white. The city outside was disappearing behind sheets of fast-falling snow. The newsroom lights flickered slightly under the pressure of the building’s generators kicking in. Savannah rubbed her hands together and told herself she was cold. That was all. Just cold. Not jumpy. Not distracted. Not waiting for her phone to buzz with a new assignment that might shove her and Tilly into the same live truck or the same street corner or the same story in the middle of a blizzard.
The storm was coming.
And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt like she and Tilly were standing right at the edge of it already.
And neither of them was stepping back.
Fifteen
The wind was angry.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Angry.
By the time Tilly finished loading the live truck, the parking lot no longer had edges. Snow blurred everything into one white smear, and the gusts hit hard enough to make the truck sway on its tires. Their gloves were soaked straight through, fingers stiff and useless inside the wet fabric.
Inside the station, the chaos was worse.
Producers shouted over each other. Meteorologists ran updated models from screen to screen. The assignment board looked like it had been attacked by a marker-wielding toddler. Everyone was moving fast enough to blur — except for Savannah, who was still assigned to Andrew.
She stood beside him at the planning table, flipping through notes about warming shelters. Her scarf was still looped around her neck like she hadn’t decided whether the newsroom was safe from the cold.
Tilly didn’t look at her.
They just… knew she was there.
Henry burst out of his office again, practically vibrating with stress. “Alright, Andrew’s route is blocked. That package isn’t happening. Savannah—”
Tilly felt the shift before the name even finished leaving Henry’s mouth.
Here it comes.
“You’re pulled,” Henry said. “We need another storm team, and you’re it.”
Andrew threw up his hands. “Have fun.”
Savannah blinked once, absorbing the new assignment, but Tilly didn’t look long enough to see more than that single blink.
Henry scanned the room. “Who’s prepped and loaded? Who can still get out before the roads close?”
Tilly already knew the answer.
“You,” Henry said, pointing. “Savannah with Tilly. Out the door in five.”
