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chapter four

Graham

I sent Caleb a text letting him know I was in the neighbors’ backyard in case he needed me, to which he replied with a meme I couldn’t even begin to try to comprehend.

Having a beer with some of my employees was never something I imagined myself doing on a Friday night, but they seemed to genuinely want me there.

Or they might’ve just been too drunk to care.

I half-listened to Owen detailing the events of his bachelor party to Chase over by the fire pit while also watching Xander and Jillian interact beside me.

She was frowning.

I assumed they were fighting until he pushed her hair away from her eyes, asking her, “Do you want me to get my vape? A little THC could probably take the edge off your pain.”

Jill’s eyes widened and she shifted around in her seat, stealing a quick, uncomfortable glance in my direction. “No, I don’t do that.”

Xander scrunched up his face at her obvious lie. “Are you saying that because Graham’s sitting there? He doesn’t give a shit.”

Xander was right about that. With a shrug, I said, “I just assume all the journalists in Woodvale are on drugs. It’s the only way we can cope.

” When there was some discussion at a meeting about implementing random drug tests, I quickly shot that idea down, knowing I’d lose half my employees in one fell swoop.

My comment at least made Jill smile. But she turned back to Xander to say, “Actually… I think I want to go home and rest.”

“Oh.” Xander glanced from the fire pit to the beer in his hands before returning his gaze to Jill’s face. “You may have to wait for me to sober up. Do you want to lie down inside for a little bit?”

“Maybe I’ll just call an Uber.”

“Okay, you do realize this is Woodvale, right? We don’t have that here.”

“Yes we do,” she corrected. “There’s at least one guy who does it. I’ve interviewed him.”

They continued to go back and forth on this, and I considered standing up to join the guys by the fire until it dawned on me: I might be the only sober person in this backyard. Having only taken a few sips of the beer in my hand, I was more than capable of driving Jillian home.

If she wanted that, of course.

I cleared my throat, scooting closer to the edge of my chair. “Hey, if you need a ride home right now, I could drive you.”

Jill ran a hand through her hair, flashing a polite smile. “Thank you for offering, Graham, but I’m sure you need to stay with your son.”

“Ha. He’s been home alone before, and he hasn’t burned the house down yet.

” Normally when I’d leave Caleb home alone, it was during the day, and just for a quick errand, like picking Olivia up from choir practice or grabbing dinner.

This would be a little different, but I knew he’d hardly even notice my absence.

“You should let Graham take you home,” Xander urged, running his hand down Jill’s back. I held my breath as he continued. “And I’ll call you in the morning.”

She turned back to me, blinking a couple of times. “I mean—are you sure? I live on the opposite end of town.”

“Of course,” I said, setting my beer down on the little table beside me. I hoped my words sounded more relaxed than I was feeling, because my heart was racing. “I’d be happy to help.”

She finally accepted the offer, and I waited by the gate as she said her goodbyes, explaining she wasn’t feeling well. As she dashed inside for her purse, Owen hollered my name from across the yard, plumes of smoke half-obscuring his face. “Do you play poker?”

I grinned, resting my hand on the gate latch. “I’ve been known to lose spectacularly.”

“You should come next Friday and let us take some of your money, then,” Chase said, adjusting his glasses with a smirk.

The long-haired guy beside him, who was bent over opening a pack of fruit snacks for the little girl, let out a laugh.

I got the impression these guys had already discussed my invitation to their next poker night while I’d been distracted by Jillian.

“I might pop over for a couple hands.” I wouldn’t have the kids the next weekend, after all. It felt like joining a poker night with my employees breached protocol somehow, but did that really matter?

Besides, there was another reason I wouldn’t mind joining this particular group for one of their Friday night get-togethers.

“I’m ready,’ Jill said, emerging from the house again. Xander touched her waist, and I looked down at the ground as the two of them shared a quick peck on the lips.

I only looked up when Xander spoke directly to me. “Thanks for getting her home.” I could tell he didn’t really want to say it. I wasn’t one of his favorite people.

But when I thought about it, there weren’t many people Xander seemed to like. I tried not to take it personally.

“Yeah,” I said, withholding every sarcastic response on the tip of my tongue.

He turned back to Jillian, dropping his hands from her hips. “I’ll call you,” he told her, and everyone else said goodbye as Jillian and I made our way through the wooden gate.

“I really appreciate this,” Jillian said one we were in the car. I started typing her address into the GPS on my phone.

“It’s really no problem,” I assured her, turning the key in the ignition. I quickly lowered the volume of the early 2000s alt-rock song that blasted from the speakers the second my phone connected. “Sorry.”

Jill let out a giggle, leaning back against the headrest. She seemed tired, but her eyes were wide open, watching my hand shift into reverse to back out of the driveway.

The car was filled with warm, stagnant air, so I reached for the A/C controls just as her hand shot up toward the volume button.

My fingers awkwardly crashed into hers, and we both laughed.

“Oops,” I blurted.

She folded her hands between her thighs. “Sorry, I was going to turn it back up. I love this song.”

“Ah,” I said, like I was making a new discovery about her. I didn’t know what kind of music I assumed Jillian liked. But her not only knowing but loving a song by The Strokes was a surprise. They were from back in my day. Not hers.

“I just thought the music might make your headache worse,” I said, rolling up to the stop sign at the end of my street.

Jill sighed. “It’s not a headache. Well, not really.”

Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure what made me assume she had a headache in the first place.

I didn’t want to press her for details about whatever symptoms she was experiencing, either, just in case she wasn’t willing to share.

So I just uttered a weak, “Oh, okay,” as I drove through the quiet subdivision.

Jill sighed. “I just get these random aches and pains… everywhere. I think it’s my mattress.”

“Sounds like you need a new mattress.”

“That would be smart, wouldn’t it?” she replied with a grin. She settled back into her seat some more, staring up at the ceiling. “Gosh, I think the pain medication I took is finally kicking in. This is the best I’ve felt all night.”

My hands shifted on the steering wheel. “I can take you back, if you want.”

“No, no. Thank you, but I’m exhausted. I get up at five for the morning broadcast, so it’s almost my bedtime.

” She glanced at her phone with a yawn. I thought about making a joke about her shitty mattress calling her name, but she spoke again before I could get any words out.

“I can’t hang like the rest of those guys,” she said with a little laugh.

“I’m always the first one to call it a night.

I’m the official party pooper of the group. ”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, they’ve invited me to come next Friday night, so I’m happy to steal that title from you. I can’t ‘hang’ very late, either.”

Jill smiled, shaking her head. “A few of them are talking about going clubbing after the ECJ conference in New York, and I’m like, what about ordering room service and going to bed? That’s my idea of a good time.”

“Wait, you’re going to that?”

“To the ECJ conference?” Her brows furrowed, and suddenly I felt like an idiot for not already knowing.

For weeks I’d assumed it would just be Meghan, Xander, and me attending the journalism conference in NYC, but it made sense that the WWTV folks were coming along.

“Marco gave Chase and me tickets ages ago. I think we all have a block of rooms together. You didn’t know that? ”

“Evidently not.” I swallowed, imagining how this trip to NYC might go down now that I knew Jillian was coming along. “But that makes sense. I saw the expense report for the trip, and it wasn’t adding up.”

“Just wait until you see my room service bill.”

“I’m sure it’ll be right up there with mine. I won’t be ‘clubbing’ with the youngsters.”

This made Jill throw her head back with a hearty laugh, clutching her stomach. “Youngsters? What the hell are you even saying? We’re not that much younger than you.”

“I’d feel like a chaperone,” I muttered, glancing at the map on the screen before turning right.

As I turned back to the road, my eyes flicked briefly to Jillian’s crossed legs, faintly illuminated by the streetlights.

I swallowed, trying not to think about all the ways those thighs could ruin a man.

“Graham, come on. You can’t be more than a couple years older than Xander. What are you, thirty-six? Thirty-seven?”

“Try forty.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you want to see my ID?”

She shook her head, crossing her arms against her chest. With her head turned toward me, she rested it against the headrest, studying me. “You don’t look forty.”

Was she blind? “You’ve seen these gray hairs, right?”

“People can go gray in their thirties! And it’s not like you have a full head of gray. The few gray hairs you have make you look… distinguished.”

I gripped the steering wheel, letting her words linger for a moment. Distinguished . It felt like a compliment—one I had to deflect with a self-effacing joke. “You know, people only ever use that word to describe old guys, so you’re not helping your case.”

“And guests.”

“What?”