Page 59 of On a Deadline

“Garrison,” Henry called from across the bullpen. “That question of yours made the morning briefing. ‘WCVB’s question leads to transparency.’ You should frame it.”

Jamie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Guess that’s one for the reel.”

He didn’t notice the stiffness in her tone. “Anyway, you’re on something calm today. Parks department. New playground, green initiative, five o’clock live hit. Should be a quick in-and-out.”

“Got it,” she said, grateful for something that didn’t involve flashing lights or a press crowd.

As Henry walked away, Harper leaned around her monitor, mug in hand. “You keep landing questions like that, they’ll put your name on a banner.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

Harper laughed, but Jamie’s stomach twisted.

The clip ran again on another screen. She didn’t mean to look, but she caught it anyway. Erin at the podium, voice steady until the wordwarrant. The brief flicker across her face. The sharp end to the briefing.

Jamie turned back to her laptop. She’d spent most of yesterday pretending not to read every headline. Everyone else had called it a win, but she hadn’t slept well since. She kept wondering if Erin had watched her segment that night, if she thought Jamie had handled it fairly.

Her cursor blinked on a blank script page. She forced her focus back towork, typing the slug line for the parks story. Something quiet. Easy. A story that couldn’t hurt anyone.

The assignment took them to a small park tucked between a neighborhood and a community center. By the time Jamie and Tilly pulled in, most of the setup was already done. A few city workers in bright vests were arranging folding chairs, and someone was fighting with a banner that refused to stay straight against the podium rail.

Tilly killed the engine and looked out the window. “So, our big scoop of the day is new mulch and a recycled-plastic slide. You must be so proud.”

Jamie smiled. “Pulitzer stuff.”

“Pulitzer for fluff.” Tilly grabbed the camera bag from the back seat. “You want the fifty or the wide to start?”

“Fifty,” Jamie said. “Keep it pretty. If we’re going to do filler, it might as well look good.”

They worked quietly for a bit, falling into an easy rhythm. Jamie clipped her mic, tested levels, and scanned the park. Kids played in the distance, parents clustered near the shade. It was the kind of assignment that used to frustrate her. Now she was grateful for the calm.

“You’ve been quiet,” Tilly said finally, breaking the silence. “That usually means you’re either pissed about something or you’re thinking too hard.”

Jamie looked over the camera’s viewfinder. “Neither. Just tired.”

“Mm.” Tilly adjusted the tripod leg, not buying it. “You and the department’s favorite PIO stop talking again?”

Jamie hesitated, trying to sound casual. “No, we’re fine.”

Tilly’s eyebrow lifted. “That sounded like a lie.”

Jamie lined up a shot instead of answering. “We talked after the presser.”

“And?”

Jamie exhaled. “And I might’ve stayed over the night before that.”

Tilly froze mid-motion. “Stayed over?”

“Yeah.” Jamie lowered the camera. “We spent the night.”

Tilly blinked. “Oh.”

“It wasn’t casual,” Jamie said quickly. “It wasn’t some hookup or whatever you’re picturing. It just happened. And it mattered.”

Tilly’s expression softened. “All right. That’s different.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said quietly. “It was.”