Page 76 of And Now, Back to You

“I was calling you,” Mark accuses, defensive. “I called your name three times.”

Jackson drags his hand over his mouth. “Fuck,” he whispers.

Realization is a slow-dawning thing. It rises around me like a tide, licking at my ankles before constricting at my chest. I can’t breathe around it. The enormity of the mistake I’ve just made.

“Your mic was live.” Mark confirms my fears. “The broadcast went through. All of Baltimore just heard you two.”

SIMONE LEEDS: Well, uh.

[clears throat]

SIMONE LEEDS: Some technical difficulties out in Deep Creek.

SIMONE LEEDS: We’ll be back after these messages.

CHAPTER 18

DELILAH

“Which part?” I ask.

Mark looks at me like I’m stupid.

“Which part?” I ask again, slightly hysterical. My phone is buzzing in my pocket and Jackson’s is too. I can feel it where he’s tucked up against me. I’m so embarrassed I can’t bring myself to look at him, locking eyes with a regretful-looking Mark instead.

“I stopped it as soon as I could,” he says. His gaze slants toward Jackson. “But I heard you ask her to kiss you.”

Jackson tips his head back and closes his eyes. I stand next to him absolutely mortified.

“And did you hear—”

“Yeah,” Mark says. He swallows. “I heard everything, which means everyone else heard everything too. The stream has been finicky this morning with the winds. We were jammed and then we . . . weren’t.” His face softens. “I’m sorry, Delilah.”

Jackson whispers another emphatic fuck under his breath while I continue to have a full-blown existential crisis next to him.

“What are our options?” he asks.

Mark watches me for another minute. “You have your radio check-in this afternoon, and another broadcast with the evening news. I’ll tell production back at the station this was mucked due to technical difficulties, but—” He makes sure I’m looking at him. “You’ll need an explanation.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. My phone stops buzzing in my pocket only to pick up again. I pull it out and glance at the screen.

KEITH

I silence it.

Jackson grips my arm right above my wrist. My gaze snaps to his, like a key sliding into a lock.

“Mark,” he says. “Can you give us a second?”

I’ve never seen Mark more relieved in my life. “I’m gonna pack up the equipment,” he says before high-stepping out of the alcove.

Then it’s just me and Jackson and my dangling microphone wire, the repercussions of my carelessness scattered around us like the snowflakes spinning wild from the sky. I wanted to be taken seriously. I wanted to make an impact. And now I’ve ruined everything.

Hot tears fill my eyes.

Jackson’s hands cup my face. He must have taken his gloves off, his thumbs rubbing at my cheeks. He is almost eerily calm, his jaw set in a firm line.

I hiccup a breath. “Why aren’t you panicking about this?”