Chapter 83
Nora's POV
The next few days blurred together in a haze of work and exhaustion. I spent my mornings chasing down leads for backup stories, my afternoons transcribing interviews with local business owners, and my evenings hunched over my laptop, trying to finish the Cold Creek follow-up report Julian had hired me to complete.
I barely had time to think, let alone visit my mother. I sent Aunt Marianne daily texts asking for updates, and she assured me Mom was stable, but the guilt gnawed at me anyway.
Julian and I kept in touch through Signal—brief messages, mostly. Good morning. Good night. How's your day going? I kept my responses short, careful not to let the conversation drift into anything too personal. He'd been away on business these past few days too, and our communication had noticeably decreased.
On Thursday afternoon, just as I was packing up to leave, my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced at the screen and felt my stomach drop.
Overnight duty assignment. Report to the office by 7 PM.
Due to the severe weather, field reporters would frequently send back breaking news, so someone had to be assigned to cover the shift.
I looked out the window. Dark clouds hung low over the city, and the distant rumble of thunder promised a long, miserable night ahead. The weather app on my phone confirmed it: thunderstorms, heavy rain, lasting until morning.
I texted Aunt Marianne to let her know I wouldn't be home for dinner, then set aside what I'd been packing.
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By 7:30 PM, the building was nearly empty. Most of the lights were off, leaving only the harsh fluorescent glow of the hallway fixtures. I sat in the break room, staring at the sad excuse for a sandwich I'd grabbed from the vending machine.
Rain lashed against the windows, the sound almost soothing in its monotony. I pulled out my phone and opened Instagram, scrolling aimlessly through my feed. Everyone else seemed to be having a much better Thursday night than I was.
On impulse, I posted a story with a photo of the sandwich: Some people watch the stars. Some people watch the ocean. Some people get to be all cute and romantic. Some people have to work overnight.
I set my phone down and picked at the sandwich, not really tasting it. The break room felt too quiet, too empty. I hated overnight shifts. They always made me feel like the last person left in the world.
My phone buzzed. A Signal notification.
Julian: Don't eat that sandwich. I'm ordering you real food.
I blinked at the screen, my heart doing a stupid little flip. He'd seen my Instagram story. Of course he had.
I typed back quickly. You're back?
Julian: Got in this afternoon. Saw your post.
I stared at the message. He'd been gone for days, and I'd told myself I wasn't thinking about him. That I didn't miss the steady rhythm of his texts or the way he always seemed to know when I needed someone to talk to.
Apparently, I was a terrible liar.
Another message appeared. What do you want? Chinese? Italian? There's a good Thai place that delivers late.
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. This felt dangerous. Not in a bad way, exactly, but in a way that made my chest feel too tight and my thoughts too scattered.
You don't have to do that, I typed.
Julian: I know. I want to.
Three words. Simple, direct, and completely disarming.
Thai sounds good.
Julian: Done. It'll be there in thirty minutes.
I set my phone down. This was fine. It was just food.
Except I couldn't stop smiling like an idiot.
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The Thai food arrived exactly thirty minutes later, delivered in neat paper bags that smelled like heaven. I unpacked the containers on the break room table—Green Curry, Mango Sticky Rice—and felt something warm settle in my chest that had nothing to do with the spices.
I pulled out my phone and opened Signal.
Thank you. This is way better than that sad sandwich.
His reply came almost immediately.
Julian: Always at your service.
My lips curved into a smile I couldn't quite suppress, and I set my phone down before I could type something embarrassing.
By the time I finished eating, the rain had begun to intensify. I cleaned up the containers and headed back to my desk, pulling up the Cold Creek report Julian had hired me to finish.
The file opened with a click, and I scrolled through the footage I'd shot during the investigation. Most of it was standard—polluted water samples, interviews with residents, shots of the abandoned mining facilities. But then I reached the section I'd filmed during Julian's inspection tour, and my hand stilled on the mouse.
There he was on the screen, standing by the contaminated creek bed, his black shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The camera had caught him mid-gesture, his expression focused and intent as he examined the water quality reports. The afternoon light had softened the harsh lines of his face, and for a moment, he looked almost... approachable.
I should have clicked forward. I should have moved on to the next clip.
Instead, I just sat there, watching him work.
I'm not reviewing footage, I realized with a jolt. I'm just... looking at him.
I jerked my hand away from the mouse like it had burned me. This was ridiculous. I was supposed to be working, not mooning over my boss like some lovesick teenager.
Except he wasn't my boss. Not really. He'd hired me to finish work I'd left incomplete, which meant technically, we were equals.
I forced myself to click through the rest of the footage, making notes on which clips to include in the final report. By the time I finished, it was nearly eight o'clock, and the storm outside had reached its peak. Rain hammered against the windows in sheets, and the wind howled like something alive.
Then the lightning came.
A brilliant white flash split the sky, so bright it turned the entire office into stark relief. I immediately covered my ears, my body going rigid.
The thunder hit like a bomb going off, rattling the windows and shaking the walls. The emergency lights flickered, and for a second, I thought the power might go out entirely.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands pressed tight against my ears, but it didn't help. The sound was everywhere, inside my head, inside my chest, reverberating through my bones like the world was ending.
I couldn't breathe. My lungs felt too small, my throat too tight. I hunched forward over my desk, trying to make myself as small as possible, trying to disappear.
Another flash. Another explosion of sound.
I didn't hear the door open.