Chapter 139
Nora's POV
I set down my fork with more force than necessary. "I'm going to work today."
Julian didn't even look up from his coffee. "Your body temperature isn't stable yet."
"My body, my call." I crossed my arms. "I'm not some fragile thing that needs constant watching."
Lucas glanced between us like he was watching a tennis match, probably enjoying himself way too much.
"Look," I continued, "I appreciate everything you've done, but I can't just sit here—"
"Then what about six o'clock?" Julian sighed. "Leave the office by six. Not a minute later."
"No problem."
"But if you feel unwell—" His eyes locked on mine. "Call me immediately."
"Deal."
---
The moment I pushed through the newsroom door, my coworkers swarmed me.
"Nora! You're back!"
"We thought you'd be out all week!"
Jacey walked out of her office, frowning as she approached. "Your sick leave isn't over yet. What are you doing here?"
"I was going stir-crazy at home," I said quickly. "And the department must be short-handed. Figured I could help."
Jacey studied me for a long moment, probably checking if I looked as bad as I had three days ago. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. But no fieldwork today. You're on editing duty. Start with the flood prevention files—Ruby's been working on something that needs a second pair of eyes."
I nodded, relieved. Editing I could handle. No freezing water.
I went to my desk and opened Ruby's draft. Started reviewing.
Water quality compliance rate: 75.2%
Federal appropriation: $70 million
I frowned. Those numbers felt wrong.
I'd seen the Water Resources Bureau's public data before. It seemed different.
I screenshotted the relevant section of her article and sent a text to Julian.
Me: Hey, are these numbers correct? I remember the data being different.
His reply came within seconds.
Julian: Give me ten minutes.
Exactly ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Julian: Your memory is correct. Compliance rate is 72.6%, appropriation is $75 million.
I stared at the screen.
This wasn't just a typo. This was a fundamental error that would make us look incompetent—or worse, complicit in covering up the real state of the flood prevention program.
I drafted an email to Ruby, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.
Subject: Data Verification Request
Hi Ruby,
I'm reviewing your flood prevention piece and noticed a discrepancy between your figures and the Federal Water Resources Bureau's public database. Could you verify your source? I've attached screenshots from the official site for reference.
Nora
I hit send and leaned back in my chair.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
Ruby's name flashed on the screen.
I picked up. "Hey—"
"Are you questioning my work?" Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
I took a breath. "I'm just asking you to verify the source. That's standard procedure—"
"My source was a direct interview with the deputy director of the Water Resources Bureau last week. Face-to-face. You think some random database you googled is more reliable than a firsthand account?"
"Ruby, the Federal Water Resources Bureau updates their database in real time. The screenshot I sent you is timestamped from yesterday. And according to the Journalism Ethics Standards, any data involving public funds has to be cross-referenced with official records—"
"Are you seriously lecturing me right now?"
"I'm trying to help you avoid publishing something that could damage the newsroom's reputation." My grip on the phone tightened. "Since you insist, I'll upload it as-is. If there's a problem, you take responsibility."
I hung up.
Fine. If she wanted to own this disaster, she could have it.
---
By the time I finished reviewing the last file, it was nearly six. I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs, my body aching in ways that reminded me I wasn't as recovered as I'd insisted this morning.
The parking lot was mostly empty, except for one familiar vehicle.
A black Lincoln Navigator sat under the streetlight, engine idling.
Julian was leaning against the driver's side door, phone pressed to his ear. When he saw me approaching, he ended the call and straightened.
"I thought Lucas was picking me up," I said, stopping a few feet away.
"He had something come up." Julian opened the passenger door. "I was in the area."
I hesitated, then climbed in.
The drive was quiet. Too quiet. Julian's hands were steady on the wheel, his expression unreadable.
After a few minutes, he broke the silence.
"Who upset you?"
I turned to look at him. "What?"
"Your expression." He handed me a bottle of water. "You look like you want to punch someone. Was it about the article I helped you verify?"
I sighed and told him about Ruby. About her refusing to correct the data.
Julian's jaw tightened. "She'll face the consequences of her actions."
His tone was calm, but there was something cold underneath. Something that made me think Ruby's career was about to get a lot more complicated.
"Julian—"
"It's a matter of professional responsibility."
I didn't argue. Partly because he was right. Partly because I was too tired.
We drove in silence for another few minutes, his expression remaining distant. Then I worked up the nerve to ask.
"Are you still mad at me?"
"I'm not mad." His voice was flat. Clinical.
"About last night—"
"You don't need to apologize."
But the way he said it—like I was a case file he was closing—made my chest ache.
I bit my lip, then leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
Julian's hands tightened on the wheel.
"Trying to appease me?" The corner of his mouth lifted.
I pulled back, my face burning. "Sort of."
His mood visibly shifted again.
"I want to go back to RiverView," I said quietly.
"Okay."
---
The car pulled into the community's underground garage.
Julian walked me to the elevator, his hand wrapped around mine.
We stood there waiting, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
"Do you think we're moving too fast?" Julian asked suddenly.
I blinked. "What?"
"Two months." His silver eyes locked on mine. "We've known each other for two months. I brought you into my life. Into my home. I wanted to—" He stopped, his jaw working. "But you're not ready."
My throat tightened. "It's not you—"
"I know." His voice softened. "I know it's not me. That's why I'm waiting."
"Then why were you so cold today?"
He let out a humorless laugh. "Because I'm terrified of losing control." His hand came up to cup my face. "Do you know what my first instinct was last night? When you locked that door?"
I shook my head.
"I wanted to break it down. I wanted to tell you I'd never hurt you. But I knew that would only scare you more." His thumb brushed my cheekbone. "Chasing you is exhausting."
Despite everything, I laughed. "Are you giving up?"
"Never." His voice was filled with sincerity.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.
Without thinking, I bolted toward the elevator. Pressed the floor button.
Julian stayed where he was, watching me flee with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and fondness.
As the elevator doors closed, I breathed a sigh of relief.