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The layout looked perfect, so he sent it back to Josie with his approval. Then, he checked that off his to-do list and stood, stretching. When was the last time he’d gotten up and gotten the blood flowing to his limbs?
He walked out into the hallway and peered inside of Alissa’s office. Instead of her usual sunny optimism, she had faint dark circles underneath her eyes and her shoulders were hunched. Dane rapped on the door as to not startle her.
“Hey, you’re welcome to take a long lunch today.” He checked his watch. “It’s around that time.”
“Oh, it is.” Alissa checked the time too. “Thanks—it gives me time to get lunch with my sister.”
Her usual upbeat tone was notably flat.
“I never knew your sister lived in town.” He leaned against her door frame, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.
“She doesn’t.” Alissa squeezed the bridge of her nose under her glasses. “She showed up unannounced.”
“You don’t seem too excited about that.”
Alissa took her glasses off and cleaned them on her big green sweater, a furrow in her brows. The color of the fabric played well against her brown eyes. “I mean, I am. But I’m also not, if that makes sense.”
“It kind of does.”
“Basically, we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. We’re twins but we’re opposites. She owns a restaurant with her husband, has a daughter, and is extremely put together—pantsuits, high heels, all of that. I, on the other hand, up and moved to a town that I was supposed to vacation in for a week or so.” She gestured vaguely toward her oversized sweater and wild curls. “Also, I have a wardrobe filled with clothes just like this and I can’t walk in high heels to save my life.”
“It’s a good thing walking in heels isn’t a requirement for writing.”
“Yeah, I would definitely not be a writer if that were the case.” Alissa snorted, putting her glasses back on. “Caitlin thinks that I should settle down and do a ‘normal’ job instead of trying to become a writer.”
Dane ran a hand through his hair, studying her closely. It was so rare to see her in anything but bright spirits. Now her lovely features were drawn in, filled with ambivalence. He could relate. Back when he was in college, people told him it was nuts to go for a career in journalism. Now he was here, the owner of his own publication.
“Your passion for writing is admirable in my opinion. It’s worth chasing a passion, even if it’s not what everyone else would do,” he said. “You’ve been here for a few weeks and you’ve already put that passion into every piece you’ve written. It shows.”
Alissa’s cheeks colored. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Josie recognized it first. I was almost too stubborn and blinded to see it too.” He paused, but Alissa’s open expression put him at ease.
“Why do you think that is?” Alissa asked.
Dane paused again to consider the question.
“Sometimes I get so laser focused that I don’t see potential where I should. I just want to see the facts in front of me, if that makes sense,” he said.
“It does.” Alissa’s voice was soft.
“I get so caught up in the business of it. It’s all numbers and marketing and advertising revenue,” Dane continued. “I forget about how great writing feels and how powerful it can be. It’s been a while since I’ve embraced it instead of treating it like something that brings me joy.”
The back of his neck heated at the confession, but he kept his cool. He hadn’t been that candid with anyone in a while, especially someone at work. Opening up about his feelings made him feel so exposed, but Alissa was going to treat him with care, not like he was weak. It was a nice change from the cutthroat environments he had been in as an adult. So many people had used his rare moments of vulnerability to their advantage. It had hardened him against people when he didn’t need to be, at least not to everyone.
“You could get back to appreciating it the way you used to. If you want, I mean,” Alissa finally said.
“Maybe.” He cleared his throat and looked down the hallway. Just because he was getting comfortable with Alissa didn’t mean he was happy to talk about his feelings at length. “Anyway, are you ready for the surf competition?”
“Absolutely. Are you?”
“Absolutely not.” Dane tried to imagine himself standing around on a beach, watching people surf. It was as foreign of an idea as him actually surfing himself, as much as Michael tried to convince him to give it a shot. “It’s not my thing.”
“How so?”
Dane shrugged. “Just isn’t. I don’t really do big events. The crowds… things like that.”
His excuses were weak and he knew it. But telling her the real answer—that it was an unknown—felt like sharing too much.
