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But…maybe a beginning, a crawl forward, a slow, inching return to normal.
“Not now,” I whispered to remind myself of where I stood, slipping my shoes on, straightening my sweatshirt. “Not ever.”
Then I went back to what I did best.
I went to work.
And I forgot about hockey players and orgasms and a glimmer of hope that had died a slow, painful death with just a single glance.
I clicked off the video call, the last of many of them from that day. Media had become an important part of my life, mostly because insurance companies were assholes, and the public had a short memory, and I needed River’s Bend to stay in the news.
That meant interviews and podcasts and blasting social media.
It meant meeting with the governor and fire chiefs and infrastructure experts.
It meant long as days in makeup and suits and doing my hair, wrestling my curls into some semblance of control.
Sighing, I stretched my shoulders and pushed up to my feet. My desk in this makeshift office wasn’t nearly as nice as the one that had burned to ash nearly a month before, but itwasa space to spread out.
Andit had a door.
Go me.
Privacy for all those interviews and podcasts and Zoom calls.
Did I sleep on the couch shoved against one wall and surrounded by boxes and boxes of files?
Yes.
But was it a whole lot better than the gymnasium at the middle school?
Absolutely.
It wasn’t spacious, but itwasair-conditioned against this summer heat, and itwasin River’s Bend.
Progress.
I could definitely do without it being next the ice rink. But, considering the rink was one of the few buildings in town that hadn’t burned to the ground, I got what I got. The bonus was that it had a huge parking lot so that trailers could be brought in to create temporary offices for city workers, along with short-term headquarters for police and fire.
Plus, we’d done some serious work in the last weeks which meant that we’d moved from gas-powered generators to running on the newly repaired electrical grid.
More progress.
Same as with the investigation into the cause of the fire—they suspected arson.
Reading between the lines? Someone had burned my fucking town down.
Mytown.
A thought that sent rage through me.
For now, though, my rage had to wait. I still had work to do, but at least my video calls were through for the day. I could take off my makeup and sneak in a quick shower then settle into my files for the rest of the night. Except, even as I was grabbing my makeup remover wipes from my desk drawer and imagining how silky smooth the new pajamas Bailey had bought for me would feel against my freshly cleaned skin, there was a knock on the door.
I moaned, dropped my head back, staring up at the boxed-in fluorescent lights, taking a beat. Then I blew out a breath and straightened, calling, “Come in!”
The door creaked open, and my dad poked his head in. “Hey, BR.”
Fuck.
