That was how they’d always done it.
Henry’s voice echoed down the hall, calling out assignments. Names, locations, timelines. The day snapped into place around them.
Tilly straightened, slung the camera bag over their shoulder, and stepped out of the gear room.
They could move through this day cleanly. Professionally. Without reaching.
They’d done harder things than that.
They could be professional. They could be careful. They just weren’t sure their rules were going to survive her.
Twenty Two
By day two, the snow had started melting into gray slush, and Savannah’s nerves felt the same. Wet. Heavy. Cold around the edges. Unsettled in a way she couldn’t shake. She pushed through the newsroom doors like she meant to break them.
Everyone else looked tired from the storm cycle, but she looked tired for other reasons. The kind you didn’t say out loud. The kind that pressed into the base of your skull and made your shoulders sit too high. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours, and she didn’t need a mirror to know she looked it. Her chest still felt scraped raw from yesterday.
But none of that mattered, because the second she stepped inside and saw Tilly across the room, something in her snapped tight and hot. They were in the gear room again, talking quietly with Andrew. Same steady face. Same calm stance. Like they had slept just fine. Like nothing had happened in that damn truck two nights ago.
They didn’t look her way. They didn’t even shift.
Savannah set her jaw so hard it hurt. Fine. If they wanted to act like she was invisible, she could disappear even faster.
She walked straight to her desk, heels punching the floor harder than necessary. A producer glanced up at the sound. Savannah ignored him. Harper fell into step beside her, already staring like she knew something was off.
“You look…” Harper started.
“Don’t.”
“Okay. You look ‘don’t.’”
Savannah turned her monitor on with a little too much force. “I’m working.”
Harper crossed her arms. “You always work. You don’t usually look like you want to set someone on fire while doing it.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I’m busy.”
“That’s also a lie.”
Savannah exhaled sharply. “Harper.”
Harper lowered her voice. “Is this about Franklin?”
Savannah’s pulse stuttered, then surged. “No.”
“You just nearly punched the keyboard when I said their name.”
Savannah gave a cold little smile she didn’t feel. “Then maybe don’t say their name.”
“Ah,” Harper said softly. “So it is about Franklin.”
Savannah opened an email and stared at the text without reading a single word. “I’m not talking about this.”
“Because you’ll cry or because you’ll scream?”
