Page 60 of On a Deadline

For a second, neither of them spoke. The sound of a leaf blower started somewhere down the path, and a little kid let out a shriek-laugh near the swings.

Tilly busied themself with focus. “You like her.”

Jamie didn’t deny it. “I do.”

Tilly nodded, not unkindly. “She looked rough that morning. Guess I know why now.”

Jamie smiled faintly. “Probably for more than one reason.”

Tilly shifted their weight, pretending to fiddle with the lens even though it was already perfect. “She… reached out to me,” they said finally.

Jamie’s head snapped up. “She told me she was going to, but I didn’t want to assume—”

“It surprised me,” Tilly admitted. “In a good way.” They offered a small, crooked smile. “She didn’t make excuses. Just… said what she needed to say. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear it.”

Jamie let the air ease out of her chest. “I’m glad. You deserved that.”

Tilly nodded. “Yeah. And look—” They met her eyes fully now, steady. “If you two are trying something… I’m not against it.”

Jamie blinked. “Really?”

Tilly shrugged, almost embarrassed by the sincerity. “I’m not handing her a gold star, but… she’s trying. And you’re happy. That counts.”

Warmth rose under Jamie’s skin before she could stop it. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get mushy on me,” Tilly muttered, grabbing the handle of the tripod. “We’ve got a playground to immortalize.”

By the time they wrapped their b-roll, most of the crowd had thinned. The parks director waved them over to film a short interview before the ribbon cutting. Jamie lobbed a few quick questions about the new equipment and grant funding. He gave the same answer she’d heard a dozen times before. Safe, soundbite-ready, nothing anyone could twist.

While Tilly packed up the tripod, Jamie pulled her phone from her pocket and saw a new message.

Heard the park’s the big story today. National-level journalism.

Jamie smiled before she could stop herself.

Somebody’s been reading my rundown.

Somebody needed a distraction from a day full of apologies.

Rough morning?

Rough week. I’m fine. Just tired.

“Fine” is a cop word.

Don’t profile me.

Jamie grinned at the screen.

You walked into that one.

You’re insufferable.

You like me that way.

A pause, then:

Unfortunately.